TANNHAUSER
261
That glowed with most internal brilliance ;
Borne up, borne up by hands invisible
Into a firmament of secret light
Manifest, open, permeating me !
Then, then, I cried upon the mystic Word !
(That once begot in me the Venusberg)
And lo! that light was darkness—in the
, face
Of That which gleamed above. And verily
My life was borne on the dark stream of
death
Down whirling aeons, linked abysses, columns
Built of essential time. © And lo! the light
Shed from Her shoulders whom I dimly saw ;
Crowned with twelve stars and horndd as
the moon;
Clothed with a sun to which the sun of
earth
Were tinsel; and the moon was at Her
feet 1—
A moon whose brilliance breaks the sword
of song
Into a million fragments ; so transcends
Music, that starlight-sandalled majesty !
Then—shall I contemplate the face of Her?
O Nature! Self-begotten! Spouse of God,
The Glory of thy Countenance unveiled !
Thy face, O mother ! Splendour of the Gods!
Behold ! amid the glory of her hair
And light shed over from the crown thereof,
Wonderful eyes less passionate than Peace
That wept! That weot! O mystery of
Love!
Clasping my hands upon the-scarlet rose
That flamed upon my bosom, the keen thorns
Pierced me and slew! My spirit was with-
drawn
Into Her godhead, and my soul made One
With the Great Sorrow of the Universe,
The Love of Isis! Then I fell away
Into some old mysterious abyss
Rolling between the heights of starry space ;
Flaming above, beyond the Tomb of Time,
Blending the darkness into the profound
Chasms of matter—so I fell away
Through many strange eternities of Space,
1 Revelations xii. I,
Limitless fields of Time. I knew in me
That I must fall into the ground and die ;
Dwell in the deep a-many years, at last
To rise again—Osiris, slain and risen !
Light of the Cross, I see Thee in the
sky,
My future! I must perish from the earth,
Abide in desolate halls, until the hour
When a new Christ must needs be crucified.—
So weep I ever with Our Lady’s tears,
Weep for the pain, the travail, the old
curse ;
Weep, weep, and die.
Grail,
The Glory of the Crucified ! Dear friend,
Be happy, for my heart goes out to you,
And most to that poor pale Elizabeth—
Were it not only that the selflessness
That fills me now, forbids the personal,
Casts out the individual, and weeps on
For the united sorrow of all things.
For if I die, it is not Tannhduser,
Rather a spark of the supreme white light
That dwelt and flickered in him in old
time ;
That Light, I say, that hides its flame
awhile
To shine more fully—to redeem the world !
I say, then, ‘‘ I”; and yet it is not “I”
Distinct, but ‘‘ I” incorporate in All.
I am the Resurrection and the Life !
The Work is finished, and the Night rolled
back !
I am the Rising Sun of Life and Light,
The Glory of the Shining of the Dawn!
Iam Osiris! I the Lord of Life
Triumphant over death—
O Sorrow, Sorrow, Sorrow of the World!
So dawns at last the
HEINRICH.
This was my friend. Deep night descends,
perfused
With unsubstantial glory from beyond.
The stars are buried in the mist of light.
Beyond the hill the world is, and laments
Existence—the wide firmament of woe!