Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/107

Rh But he, with both hands pressed upon his eyes, Against that blinding lustre, heeded not Her thundered words, and cried in sharp despair, &quot; Help me, Virgin Mary ! &quot; and thereat, The very bases of the hall gave way, The roof was rived, the goddess disappeared, And Tannhauser stood free upon the cliff, Amidst the morning sunshine and fresh air. Around him were the tumbled blocks and crags, Huge ridges and sharp juts of flinty peaks, Black caves, and masses of the grim, bald rock. The ethereal, unfathomable sky, Hung over him, the valley lay beneath, Dotted with yellow hayricks, that exhaled Sweet, healthy odors to the mountain-top. He breathed intoxicate the infinite air, And plucked the heather blossoms where they blew, Reckless with light and dew, in crannies green, And scarcely saw their darling bells for tears. No sounds of labor reached him from the farms And hamlets trim, nor from the furrowed glebe ; But a serene and sabbath stillness reigned, Till broken by the faint, melodious chimes Of the small village church that called to prayer. He hurried down the rugged, scarped cliff. And swung himself from shelving granite slopes To narrow foot-holds, near wide-throated chasms,