Tannhäuser

Then, scorpion-stunj^ of its own terrible tang, Burnt of its own fire, soiled of its own stain, Falls conquered as a bird Bolt-stricken through the brain. To the resounding plain : The double word, The see-saw of all misery —begin The alluring mysteries of lust and sin ; Ends their delight !— and are they clear to sight ? Or mixed with death, compact of night ? Begin — the bitter tears of impotence. The sad permuted sense Of this despair—what would you ? and renew The long soft warfare—the enchanted arms. The silken body's charms. The lips that murmur and the breasts that sting ; The eyes that sink so deep Beyond the steeps and avenues of sleep, And of their wonder bring No ultimation from the halls of night, The slippery staircase, and the Fatal Throne, The Evil House, the Fugitive of Light, The great Unluminous, the Formless One! Stoop not ! Beneath, a precipice is set. The Seven Steps. Stoop not, forget Never the splendid Image, and the realm Where lightnings overwhelm iiS