In Venusberg: changing afterward to a woodland cross-way.
Venus.
G ONE to his Goddess! the poor worm’s asleep.
And yet—I cannot follow him. Not even
Into the dreamland that these mortals use.
There, I am barred. The flaming sword of Light
Is set against me, and new pangs consume
This nest of scorpions where my heart once was.
Yet to my fearful task of hate I set
No faltering bosom. I will have this man,