Classic Poem

Now full of hope and deep repentance too,
Tannhauser hastened on his pilgrimage
To Rome. The road was long and rough and full
Of weariness, with none to aid him save
His staff. But his own deep remorse, also
His reborn faith in God, his reverent love
Now for Elizabeth made easy all the way
When other pilgrims through the meadows went
And sought the gentle paths, he turned aside
To bruise his feet in thorns and stony ways.
The wayside streams he passed and bore his thirst.
In silence and contrition pressing on,
He filled his mind with hope and noble thoughts
Of future deeds and life all free from sin.

At last when many days were passed he came
To Rome. The bells were pealing forth in joy,
And anthems filled the air in promise of

The pardons for the weary pilgrim band,
As one by one they sought the presence of the Pope
And from him found the full assurance of
Forgiveness for their sins. Then came at last
Tannhauser's turn. In deep repentance now
He humbly knelt and told of all his sin:
The Venusburg, its dark and evil spells,
His wasted year, his fearful seizure in
The minstrel hall. For mercy now he begged
The Pope, and from enchantment to be freed.
But sternly spoke his papal lord, " If you
Have been into the Venusburg, and there
Enchanted by its magic powers and spells,
You will succumb again, and you may hope
For God's forgiveness when my staff puts forth
Green leaves. " Struck dumb with grief and deep despair
Tannhauser staggered forth. In hopelessness
He fell upon the ground and wished for death.
At last when he arose, the pilgrim band
Had passed its way toward home, and from afar
Its chorus of thanksgiving faintly reached
His ears. Tannhauser took his staff, alone
To wander on he knew not where, bereft
Of consolation, and of hope and love.

And far, far away in secret prayed
Elizabeth in agonizing love
To God that He might save Tannhauser's soul,
And bring him back to her from magic powers

Redeemed. The year passed on and bringing near
The time the pilgrims must return from Rome.
Elizabeth more anxious grew; there spread
Upon her face a greater sign of fear
And growing sadness, which Von Eschenbach
Was quick to see. He sought to comfort her
With gentle words, and unobtrusive love,
And ever watchful care. Elizabeth
Was grateful for his deep solicitude
And love, but could not give him love for love.
Thus, day by day, down to the Virgin's shrine,
Where passed the pilgrims on their road from Rome,
She came to pray, until one day there came
Upon the wind the echo of a song
Which she well knew. " It is their song, " she cried
With heart half bursting with its hope and fear,
Its pent-up agony and love. She strained
Her eyes to see the coming pilgrim band,
And of the band the pilgrim whom she loved.
Still onward came the pilgrims as they sang
Triumphantly of God — His mighty love,
And His forgiveness of their sins. And they,
Unseeing, passed her by while she saw them,
But saw not with them that dear pilgrim face
She sought. " No more will he return, " she said,
And, with the wound of death upon her face,
She sought the palace hall to wait and die.
For die she must, she knew, without his love.
To see his face no more; to hear his voice
No more; was more than she could bear and live.

A few more days were passed so quietly
None in the palace thought Elizabeth
Was near the end of life, or that her grief
And love were yet so great that she must die.
They thought her youth would yet assert itself
And time would bring a solace to her love,
And heal her broken heart. But scarcely was
The sun up from the glowing East when she
One morning called the Landgrave to her bed,
And all the household dear, and bade tham all,
A last farewell. And while they wept for her
She closed her eyes and died. So gently did
She pass she seemed as one who slept.
And then Elizabeth was laid to rest
With swelling music, and with holy mass,
And gorgeous obsequies becoming to
Her princely race and noble line of kings.

Wolfram von Eschenbach stood on a hill
One day above the shrine more sacred now
To him because in prayer Elizabeth
Had knelt so often there. The twilight hour
Came on and brightly shone the evening star,
And as he watched he felt as if it were
The shining spirit of Elizabeth.
He struck his harp and softly sang a song
In which he made the lovely evening star
In its soft radiance to symbolize
Elizabeth in purity and love.
And, while he sang, he saw in ragged garb

A pilgrim leaning hard upon his staff
As he approached, and on his haggard face
The marks of deep despair and hopelessness.
And when the pilgrim spoke he recognized
Tannhauser, whom he kindly welcomed home.
" Tell me the story of your pilgrimage, "
He said. Briefly Tannhauser told him all,
And said, " When I have seen Elizabeth
Once more, I leave this valley never to
Return again. " " Alas, " Von Wolfram said,
" Elizabeth is dead. She died for you.
In daily prayer for you and faithful love,
She pined her life away, and now a saint
In heaven she pleads with everlasting love
For you. " Tannhauser fell upon the earth
With grief too much to bear. And while he lay,
Behold, swift messengers came from the Pope
And bore aloft the papal staff and sang
Of a great marvel wrought by God, for now
The staff put forth green leaves in token of
Tannhauser's full redemption from his sins.
The evening star in gentle radiance
Shone down upon the pilgrim's face at last
Reposing in the calm and peace of death.