Tannhäuser

Tannhauser. My soul is sick of riddling. Fare you well ! \^£xtt the Unknown Minstrei. Wake, wake, poor child, poor child, Elizabeth ! Elizabeth. What says my dear one ? I have been with God. Tannhauser {aside). How shall I speak ? A violent good-bye, As one distraught, ashamed .-* I had unbared My bosom to these folk, but the sole pride, My father's gift —to be a gentleman — Forbade the dying, welcome otherwise, At any despicable hands as theirs. They, they might boast —we hundred swords or so Set on the mighty Tannhauser, and slew him. We, scarce an hundred ! Yes, believe it, sirs We are not so feeble ! — But death anyhow Cuts and not loosens the entangled life. Be mine the harder and the better way, The single chance : not hope ; appeal no more ; Hardly the arrowy wisdom of despair ; Hardly the cowardice or courage yet To drift, nor cursing nor invoking God. 126