him once more, so ready to forgive
him at the very first word of repentance, that Tannhaeuser cannot
but see how dearly she loves him, and they soon unite in a
duet of complete bliss, rejoicing openly over their reunion,
and vowing to love each other forever, and never to part again.

The Landgrave appears just as their song is ended, to
congratulate Elizabeth upon having at last left her seclusion
and honoured the minstrels with her presence. In conclusion,
he declares that, as all the contestants know she will be there
to bestow the prize, the rivalry will be greater than ever. He
is interrupted in this speech, however, by the entrance of
knights and nobles, who file in singing a chorus in praise of
the noble hall, and of Hermann, Landgrave of Thuringia, the
patron of song, whom they repeatedly cheer. When they have all
taken their appointed places, the Landgrave, rising in his seat,
addresses them, bidding them welcome, reminding them of the high
aims of their art, and telling them that, while the theme he is
about to propose for their lays is love, the princess herself
will bestow as prize whatever the winner may ask:--

'Therefore hear now the theme you all shall sing.
Say, what is love? by what signs shall we know it?
This be your theme. Whoso most nobly this can tell,
Him shall the princess give the prize.
He may demand the fairest guerdon:
I vouch that whatsoe'er he ask is granted.
Up, then, arouse ye! sing, O gallant minstrels!
Attune your harps to love. Great is the prize,'

At the summons of the heralds, Wolfram von Eschenbach first takes
up the strain, and as for him love is an ardent desire to see
the loved one happy, a longing to sacrifice himself if need be,
and an attitude of worshipful devotion, he naturally sings an
exalted strain. It finds favour with all his hearers,--with all
except Tannhaeuser, who, having tasted of the passionate joys
of unholy love, cannot understand the purity of Wolfram's lay,
which he stigmatises as cold and unsatisfactory.

In his turn, he now attunes his harp to love, and sings
a voluptuous strain, which not only contrasts oddly with
Wolfram's performance, but shows love merely as a passion,
a gratification of the senses. The minstrels, jealous for
their art, indignantly interrupt him, and one even challenges
Tannhaeuser to mortal combat:--

'To mortal combat I defy thee!
Shameless blasphemer, draw thy sword!
As brother he