Unruffled in his heart beneath it all. No outward object now had farther power To wound him there, for the brooding o'er those deeps Of vast contrition was boundless hope. Yet not to leave a human chance untried, He sought the absolution of the Pope. In a great hall with airy galleries, Thronged with high dignitaries of the Church, He took his seat amidst the humblest friars. Through open windows came sweet garden smells, Bright morning light, and twittered song of birds. Around the hall flashed gold and sunlit gems, And splendid wealth of color,--white-stoled priests, And scarlet cardinals, and bishops clad In violet vestments,--while beneath the shade Of the high gallery huddled dusky shapes, With faded, travel-tattered, sombre smocks, And shaven heads, and girdles of coarse hemp; Some, pilgrims penitent like Tannhauser; Some, devotees to kiss the sacred feet. The brassy blare of trumpets smote the air, Shrill pipes and horns with swelling clamor came, And through the doorway's wide-stretched tapestries Passed the Pope's trumpeters and mace-bearers, His vergers bearing slender silver wands, Then mitred bishops, red-clad cardinals, The stalwart Papal Guard with halberds raised, And then, with white head crowned with gold ingemmed, The vicar of the lowly Galilean, Holding his pastoral rod of smooth-hewn wood, With censer swung before and peacock fans Waved constantly by pages, either side. Attended thus, they bore him to his throne, And priests and laymen fell upon their knees. Then, after pause of brief and silent prayer, The pilgrims singly through the hall defiled, To kiss the borders of the papal skirts, Smiting their foreheads on the paven stone; Some silent, abject, some accusing them Of venial sins in accents of remorse, Craving his grace, and passing pardoned forth. Sir Tannhauser came last, no need for him To cry "Peccavi," and crook suppliant knees. His gray head rather crushed than bowed, his face Livid and wasted, his deep thoughtful eyes, His tall gaunt form in those unseemly weeds, Spake more than eloquence. His hollow voice Brake silence, saying, "I am Tannhauser. For seven years I lived apart from men, Within the Venusberg." A horror seized The assembled folk; some turbulently rose; Some clamored, "From the presence cast him forth!" But the knight never ceased his steady gaze Upon the Pope. At last,--"I have not spoken To be condemned," he said, "by such as these. Thou, spiritual Father, answer me. Look thou upon me with the eyes of Christ. Can I through expiation gain my shrift, And work mine own redemption?" "Insolent man!" Thundered the outraged Pope, "is this the tone Wherewith thou dost parade thy loathsome sin?