Heinrich monologue (Act 5) — Tannhäuser : $b A story of all time

Well, I am lost! The whistle brings no hound, The horn no hunter! North and South are mixed In this low twilight and the hanging boughs. I have slept worse than this. Poor Tannhäuser! I met him walking, as in dream, across The courtyard, while behind him skulked that crew That lurked, and itched to kill him, him unarmed, Not daring! But he reached his hand to me! “Good luck, old friend!” and, smiling, he was gone. Gone to the Pope—Great soul to mountebank! It was her wish, they whisper. Well-a-day! He’s gone, and not a friend have I again. This bank is soft with delicate white moss, No pillow better in broad Germany. Were Madeline but here! What rustle stirs These leaves? A strong man sobbing! The earth quakes Responsive. Hillo-ho! Who comes by there?