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 was written at Dresden in 1845, but the score was finished only in 1848.  The opera was first performed at Weimar in 1850, under the leadership of Liszt, who was greatly interested in it, and determined to make it a success.