himself has long loved the fair Elizabeth, but such is
his unselfish devotion that he would fain see her happy even with
a rival. To win the light back to her eyes and the smile to her
lips, he now tells Tannhaeuser how she has drooped ever since he
went away, and generously confesses that she took pleasure in
his music only, and has persistently avoided the minstrel hall
since his departure. His eloquent pleading touches Tannhaeuser's
reawakening heart, and he finally consents to accompany the
Landgrave and his minstrels back to the Wartburg. Hither
they now make their way on foot and on horseback, singing a
triumphal chorus:--

'He doth return, no more to wander;
Our loved and lost is ours again.
All praise and thanks to those we render
Who could persuade, and not in vain.
Now let your harps indite a measure
Of all that hero's hand may dare,
Of all that poet's heart can pleasure,
Before the fairest of the fair.'

The second act is played in the great hall of the Wartburg
castle, which is festively decorated, for the minstrels are
again to contend for the prize of song, a laurel wreath which
will again be bestowed as of yore by the fair hands of the
beloved Princess Elizabeth. As the curtain rises she is alone in
the hall, no longer pale and wan, but radiant with happiness,
for she knows that Tannhaeuser, her lover, has returned, and
she momentarily expects him to appear. While she is greeting
the well known hall, the scene of her lover's former triumphs,
with a rapturous little outburst of song, the door suddenly
opens and Wolfram appears, leading the penitent Tannhaeuser,
who rushes forward and falls at Elizabeth's feet, while his
friend discreetly withdraws. Elizabeth would fain raise the
knight, telling him it is unbecoming for him to assume so
humble an attitude beneath the roof where he has triumphed
over all rivals, and she tenderly asks where he has lingered
so long. Tannhaeuser, ashamed of the past, and absorbed in the
present, declares that he has been far away, in the land of
oblivion, where he has forgotten all save her alone:--

'Far away in strange and distant regions,
And between yesterday and to-day oblivion's veil hath fallen.
Every remembrance hath forever vanished,
Save one thing only, rising from the darkness,--
That I then dared not hope I should behold thee,
Nor ever raise mine eyes to thy perfection.'

Elizabeth is so happy to see