Venus.
Mere thunder on the mountain top.
Do this,
And I will come
in sleep, in sleep renew
The carnal joys of day.
Tannhauser.
Hast Thou forgot
?
It is the fleshly I would
flee !
Venus.
Forget ?
But I strive fleshwards.
Let our sleep renew
The endless struggle —and perhaps, for thee,
For thee
!—the veil may lift another fold.
Tannhauser.
Why dost Thou hate this vision
?
Venus.
She would take
Thee from these arms !
Tannhauser.
But she is beautiful
With Thine own beauty : yet as if the God
Cancelled
its mortal comeliness,
and came
More intimate than matter,
closing in
45