ver more behold
Salvation or thy sin's relief.'

Tannhaeuser now passionately describes his utter despair, after
hearing this awful verdict, his weary homeward journey, and
his firm determination, since he is utterly debarred from ever
seeing Elizabeth again, either in this world or in the next, to
hasten back to the hill of Venus, where he can at least deaden
his remorse with pleasure, and steep his sinful soul in sensual
love. In vain Wolfram pleads with him not to give up all hope
of ultimate salvation, and still to repent of his former sin;
he insists upon returning to the enchantress who warned him
of the intolerance of man, and whom he now calls upon to guide
his steps to the entrance of her abode.

This invocation does not remain unheard by the fair goddess of
beauty. She appears in the distance with her shadowy train,
singing her old alluring song, and welcoming him back to
her realm. Tannhaeuser is about to obey her beckoning hand,
and to hasten after her in the direction of the Hoerselberg,
when the sound of a funeral chant falls upon his ear. A long
procession is slowly winding down the hill. The mourners are
carrying the body of the fair Elizabeth, who has died of grief,
to its last resting place.

While Tannhaeuser, forgetting all else, is gazing spellbound
at the waxen features of his beloved, thus slowly borne down
the hill, Wolfram tells him how the pure maiden interceded for
him in her last prayer on earth, and declares that he knows
her innocent soul is now pleading for his forgiveness at the
foot of the heavenly throne. This hope of salvation brings
such relief to Tannhaeuser's tormented heart, that he turns his
back upon Venus, who, realising her prey has escaped, suddenly
vanishes in the Hoerselberg with all her demon train.

Kneeling by Elizabeth's bier, Tannhaeuser fervently prays for
forgiveness, until the bystanders, touched by his remorse, assure
him that he will be forgiven,--an assurance which is confirmed as
he breathes his last, by the arrival of the Pope's messenger. He
appears, bearing the withered staff, which has miraculously
budded and has burst forth into blossoms and leaves:--

'The Lord himself now thy bondage hath riven.
Go, enter in with the blest in His heaven.'

[Illustration: ORTRUD KNEELING BEFORE ELSA.]

LOHENGRIN.

During a summer vacation at Teplitz in Bohemia, in 1845, Wagner
wrote the first sketch of the opera of 'Lohengrin.' The poem
wa