Page:The poems of Emma Lazarus volume 1.djvu/115

Rh That Christ s large charity can reach your sin, But I know naught. I cannot but believe That the enchantress who first tempted you Must be the Evil one,—your early doubt Was the possession of your soul by him. Travel across the mountain to the town, The first cathedral town upon the road That leads to Rome,—a sage and reverend priest, The Bishop Adrian, bides there. Say you have come From his leal servant, Friar Lodovick; He hath vast lore and great authority, And may absolve you freely of your sin.&quot; Over the rolling hills, through summer fields, By noisy villages and lonely lanes, Through glowing days, when all the landscape stretched Shimmering in the heat, a pilgrim fared Towards the cathedral town. Sir Tannhauser Had donned the mournful sackcloth, girt his loins With a coarse rope that ate into his flesh, Muffled a cowl about his shaven head, Hung a great leaden cross around his neck; And bearing in his hands a knotty staff, With swollen, sandaled feet he held his course. He snatched scant rest at twilight or at dawn, When his forced travel was least difficult. But most he journeyed when the sky, o’ercast,