Tannhäuser monologue (Act 2) — Tannhäuser : $b A story of all time

Already I have tasted once of this In its own lesser way. Ten years ago I loved a maiden called Elizabeth. A child she was, so delicate and frail, Far, white, and lonely as the coldest star Set beyond gaze of any eye but God’s; And, to forget her, found due somnolence In such a warm brown bosom as thine own Is fire and amber. Then I came away:— I heard of knights no better horsed than I, No better sworded, with no gift of song, Who, caught by one ineffable desire, Rode on by old mysterious watersheds, Traversed strange seas, or battled with strange folk, Held vigil in wild forests, all to seek The vision of the Holy Grail. And I Rode forth on that same foolish wandering; And found a-many ventures on the way; At last an old Egyptian; who bestowed The magic word, which, when I had pronounced, Called up thine evil corpse-light in the sky. He riddled me—ah God! I see it now! The bloody winepress? The ascending sun? Thy dawning beauty and thine evil bed! The double meaning! I had evil thoughts When I pronounced it—else had She Herself, Hathoör or Mary, risen. Misery! Incessant mystery of the search for Truth!