With new electric fervour? Will she be
My equal? She is mortal and a child.
Her arms are frail and white. Her lily cheeks
Could never take thy kiss. Thy love would shock,
Repel. I scorn to say her love were less
Than mine: I tell thee that she could not love
Thee even at all as thou wouldst understand.
Tannhäuser.
So certain art thou? Let me go to her,
Try, and come back!