Tannhäuser
A Legend
I
Good Christians all, be not entrapped
In Satan’s cunning snare.
I sing the lay of Tannhäuser,
To bid your souls beware.
Brave Tannhäuser, a noble knight,
Would love and pleasure win.
These lured him to the Venusberg.
Seven years he bode therein.
“Dame Venus, loveliest of dames,
Farewell, my life, my bride.
Oh give me leave to part from thee,
No longer may I bide.”
“My noble knight, my Tannhäuser,
Thou’st kissed me not to-day.
Come, kiss me quick, and tell me now,
What lack’st thou here, I pray?
“Have I not poured the sweetest wine
Daily for thee, my spouse?
And have I not with roses, dear,
Each day enwreathed thy brows?”
“Dame Venus, loveliest of dames,
My soul is sick, I swear,
Of kisses, roses and sweet wine,
And craveth bitter fare.
“We have laughed and jested far too much,
And I yearn for tears this morn.
Would that my head no rose-wreath wore,
But a crown of sharpest thorn.”
“My noble knight, my Tannhäuser,
To vex me thou art fain.
Hast thou not sworn a thousand times
To leave me never again?
“Come! to my chamber let us go;
Our love shall be secret there.
And thy gloomy thoughts shall vanish at sight
Of my lily-white body fair.”
“Dame Venus, loveliest of dames,
Immortal thy charms remain.
As many have loved thee ere to-day,
So many shall love again.
“But when I think of the heroes and gods,
Who feasted long ago,
Upon thy lily-white body fair,
Then sad at heart I grow.
Thy lily-white body filleth me
With loathing, for I see
How many more in years to come
Shall enjoy thee, after me.”
“My noble knight, my Tannhäuser,
Such words thou should’st not say.
Far liefer had I thou dealt’st me a blow,
As often ere this day.
“Far liefer had I thou should’st strike me low,
Than such an insult speak;
Cold, thankless Christian that thou art,
Thus the pride of my heart to break.
“Because I have loved thee far too well,
To hear such words is my fate,
Farewell! I give thee free leave to go.
Myself, I open the gate!”
II
In Rome, in Rome, in the holy town,
To the music of chimes and of song,
A stately procession moves,—the Pope
Strides in the midst of the throng.
This is the pious Pope Urbain;
The triple crown he wears,
The crimson robe,—and many a lord
The train of his garment bears.
“Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain,
I have a tale to tell;
I stir not hence, till thou shrivest me,
And savest me from hell.”
The people stand in a circle near,
And the priestly anthems cease;
Who is the pilgrim wan and wild,
Who falleth upon his knees?
“Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain,
Who canst bind and loose as well,
Now save me from the evil one,
And from the pains of hell.
“I am the noble Tannhäuser,
Who love and lust would win,
These lured me to the Venusberg,
Seven years I bode therein.
“Dame Venus is a beauteous dame,
Her charms have a subtle glow.
Like sunshine with fragrance of flowers blent
Is her voice so soft and low.
“As the butterfly flutters anigh a flower,
From its delicate chalice sips,
In such wise ever fluttered my soul
Anigh to her rosy lips.
“Her rich black ringlets floating loose,
Her noble face enwreath.
When once her large eyes rest on thee,
Thou canst not stir nor breathe.
“When once her large eyes rest on thee,
With chains thou art bounden fast;
’Twas only in sorest need I chanced
To flee from her hill at last.
“From her hill at last I have escaped,
But through all the livelong day,
Those beautiful eyes still follow me.
‘Come back!’ they seem to say.
“A lifeless ghost all day I pine,
But at night I dream of my bride,
And then my spirit awakes in me.
She laughs and sits by my side.
“How hearty, how happy, how reckless her laugh!
How the pearly white teeth outpeep!
Ah! when I remember that laugh of hers,
Then sudden tears must I weep.
“I love her, I love her with all my might,
And nothing my love can stay,
’Tis like to a rushing cataract,
Whose force no man can sway.
“For it dashes on from cliff to cliff,
And roareth and foameth still.
Though it break its neck a thousand times,
Its course it would yet fulfill.
“Were all of the boundless heavens mine,
I would give them all to her,
I would give her the sun, I would give her the moon
And each star in its shining sphere.
“I love her, I love her with all my might,
With a flame that devoureth me.
Can these be already the fires of hell,
That shall glow eternally?
“Oh, holy Father, Pope Urbain,
Who canst bind and loose as well,
Now save me from the evil one,
And from the pains of hell!”
Sadly the Pope upraised his hand,
And sadly began to speak:
“Tannhäuser, most wretched of all men,
This spell thou canst not break.
“The devil called Venus is the worst
Amongst all we name as such.
And nevermore canst thou be redeemed
From the beautiful witch’s clutch.
“Thou with thy spirit must atone
For the joys thou hast loved so well;
Accursed art thou! thou are condemned
Unto everlasting hell!”
III
So quickly fared Sir Tannhäuser,—
His feet were bleeding and torn—
Back to the Venusberg he came,
Ere the earliest streak of morn.
Dame Venus, awakened from her sleep,
From her bed upsprang in haste.
Already she hath with her arms so white
Her darling spouse embraced.
Forth from her nose outstreams the blood,
The tears from her eyelids start;
She moistens the face of her darling spouse
With the tears and blood of her heart.
The knight lay down upon her bed,
And not a word he spake;
Dame Venus to the kitchen went
A bowl of broth to make.
She gave him broth, she gave him bread,
She bathed his wounded feet;
She combed for him his matted hair,
And laughed so low and sweet:
“My noble knight, my Tannhäuser,
Long hast thou left my side.
Now tell me in what foreign lands
So long thou couldst abide.”
“Dame Venus, loveliest of dames,
I tarried far from home.
In Rome I had some business, dear,
But quickly back have come.
“On seven hills great Rome is built,
The Tiber flows to the sea.
And while in Rome I saw the Pope;
He sent his love to thee.
“Through Florence led my journey home,
Through Milan, too, I passed;
And glad at heart, through Switzerland
I clambered back at last.
“But as I went across the Alps,
The snow began to fall;
Below, the blue lakes smiled on me;
I heard the eagles call.
“When I upon St. Gothard stood,
I heard the Germans snore;
For softly slumbered there below
Some thirty kings and more.
“To Frankfort I on Schobbas came,
Where dumplings were my food.
They have the best religion there:
Goose-giblets, too, are good.
“In Weimar, the widowed muse’s seat,
Midst general grief I arrive.
The people are crying ‘Goethe’s dead,
And Eckermann’s still alive!’”A
Notes
A There are eight more verses to this poem, which I take the liberty of omitting. E. L.