Tannhäuser monologue (Act 3) — Tannhäuser : $b A story of all time

The love of Isis! No mere love to Her That is inborn in every soul of us! It is Her love to Christ that we must taste, Uniting us with Her eternal sigh. There is a problem infinite again. I have not gained one jot since first I saw The stately bosom of the Venusberg, Save that mine eyes have seen a little truth, My body found a little weariness. I am very feeble! Hither comes the hunt! [_A horn winds quite close by._ The noble, doomed, swift beauty! Closer yet Pant the long hounds! What heart he has! One, two! See the brach dying by his bloody flank! So could not Tannhäuser awhile ago. My help lay outside and above myself. What skills him he is brave? He ends the same. Poor stag! Here sweep the foremost hunters up. My very kinsmen! There rides Wolfram too! The proper minstrel! The ideal lover! The pure, unsullied soul. Even so, forsooth! They tell no secrets in the scullery. And there is Heinrich, wastrel of the Court, Yet hides a heart beneath the foolish face. And lo! The Landgrave! Flushed, undignified! The chase was long—if he could see himself! Wind, wind the mort! What call will answer me When I step forward? Am I dead, I wonder, Or merely on my hare-brain quest? Three years Since I was seen in Germany! [_He descends the hill and enters the company._ Hail, friends! Good cousin Landgrave, merry be the meet!