Doth now some new illusion haunt my soul,
Although I prayed so ardently for truth?
Hath Benedictus’ brother roused in me
Only those powers, which in the souls of men
Do but create illusion and deceit?
(The following is a spirit voice coming from the heights.)
Spirit:
To founts of world primeval
Thy surging thoughts do mount.
What unto illusion urged,