[_The curtains are now drawn wide apart; the whole ship is covered
with knights and sailors, who, with shouts of joy, make signs
over towards the shore which is now seen to be quite near, with
castle-crowned cliffs. Tristan and Isolda remain absorbed in mutual
contemplation, perceiving nothing that is passing_.]
BRANGÆNA (_to the women, who at her bidding ascend from below_).
Quick--the mantle!
the royal robe!--
(_Rushing between_ TRISTAN _and_ ISOLDA.)
Up, hapless ones!
See where we are!
(_She places the royal mantle on_ ISOLDA, _who notices nothing_.)
ALL THE MEN. Hail! Hail!
Hail our monarch!
Hail to Mark the king!
KURVENAL (_advancing gaily_). Hail, Tristan,
knight of good hap!
Behold King Mark approaching,
in a bark
with brave attendance.
Gladly he stems the tide,
coming to seek his bride.
TRISTAN (_looking up in bewilderment_). Who comes?
KURVENAL. The king 'tis.
TRISTAN. What king mean you?
(KURVENAL _points over the side_. TRISTAN _gazes stupefied at
the shore_.)
ALL THE MEN (_waving their hats_). Hail to King Mark!
All hail!
ISOLDA (_bewildered_). What is't, Brangæna?
What are those cries?
BRANGÆNA. Isolda--mistress!
Compose thyself!
ISOLDA. Where am I! living?
What was that draught?
BRANGÆNA (_despairingly_). The love-potion!
ISOLDA (_staring with horror at_ TRISTAN). Tristan!
TRISTAN. Isolda!
ISOLDA. Must I live, then?
(_Falls fainting upon his breast_.)
BRANGÆNA (_to the women_). Look to your lady!
TRISTAN. O rapture fraught with cunning!
O fraud with bliss o'er-running!
ALL THE MEN (_in a general burst of acclamation_).
Hail to King Mark!
Cornwall, hail!
[_People have clambered over the ship's side, others have extended
a bridge, and the aspect of all indicates the immediate arrival of the
expected ones, as the curtain falls_.]
ACT II.
[_A Garden before ISOLDA'S Chamber which lies at one side and is
approached by steps. Bright and pleasant summer night. At the open
door a burning torch is fixed. Sounds of hunting heard_.]
SCENE I.
[BRANGÆNA, _on the steps leading to the chamber, is watching the
retreat of the still audible hunters. She looks anxiously back into
the chamber as ISOLDA emerges thence in ardent animation_.]
ISOLDA. Yet do you hear?
I lost the sound some time.
BRANGÆNA (_listening_). Still do they stay:
clearly rings the horns.
ISOLDA (_listening_). Fear but deludes
thy anxious ear;
by sounds of rustling
leaves thou'rt deceived,
aroused by laughter of winds.
BRANGÆNA. Deceived by wild
desire art thou,
and but hear'st as would thy will:--
I still hear the sound of horns.
ISOLDA (_listens_). No sound of horns
were so sweet:
yon fountain's soft
murmuring current
moves so quietly hence.
If horns yet brayed,
how could I hear that?
In still night alone
it laughs on mine ear.
My lov'd one hides
in darkness unseen:
wouldst thou hold from my side my dearest?
deeming that horns thou hearest?
BRANGÆNA. Thy lov'd one hid--
oh heed my warning!--
for him a spy waits by night.
Listening oft
I light upon him:
he lays a secret snare.
Of Melot oh beware!
ISOLDA. Mean you Sir Melot?
O, how you mistake!
Is he not Tristan's
trustiest friend?
May my true love not meet me,
with none but Melot he stays.
BRANGÆNA. What moves me to fear him
makes thee his friend then?
Through Tristan to Mark's side
is Melot's way:
he sows suspicion's seed.
And those who have
to-day on a night-hunt
so suddenly decided,
a far nobler game
than is guessed by thee
taxes their hunting skill.
ISOLDA. For Tristan's sake
contrived was this scheme
by means of
Melot, in truth:
now would you decry his friendship?
He serves Isolda
better than you
his hand gives help
which yours denies:
what need of such delay?
The signal, Brangæna!
O give the signal!
Tread out the torch's
trembling gleam,
that night may envelop
all with her veil.
Already her peace reigns
o'er hill and hall,
her rapturous awe
the heart does enthral;
allow then the light to fall!
Let but its dread lustre die!
let my beloved draw nigh!
BRANGÆNA. The light of warning suppress not!
Let it remind thee of peril!--
Ah, woe's me! Woe's me!
Fatal folly!
The fell pow'r of that potion!
That I framed
a fraud for once
thy orders to oppose!
Had I been deaf and blind,
thy work
were then thy death:
but thy distress,
thy distraction of grief,
my work
has contrived them, I own it!
ISOLDA. Thy--act?
O foolish girl!
Love's goddess dost thou not know?
nor all her magic arts?
The queen who grants
unquailing hearts,
the witch whose will
the world obeys,
life and death
she holds in her hands,
which of joy and woe are wove?
she worketh hate into love.
The work of death
I took into my own hands;
Love's goddess saw
and gave her good commands
The death--condemned
she claimed as her prey,
planning our fate
in her own way.
How she may bend it,
how she may end it,
what she may make me,
wheresoe'er take me,
still hers am I solely;--
so let me obey her wholly.
BRANGÆNA. And if by the artful
love-potion's lures
thy light of reason is ravished,
if thou art reckless
when I would warn thee,
this once, oh, wait
and weigh my pleading!
I implore, leave it alight!--
The torch! the torch!
O put it not out this night!
ISOLDA. She who causes thus
my bosom's throes,
whose eager fire
within me glows,
whose light upon
my spirit flows,
Love's goddess needs
that night should close;
that brightly she may reign
and shun the torchlight vain.
(_She goes up to the door and takes down the torch_.)
Go watch without--
keep wary guard!
The signal!--
and were it my spirit's spark,
smiling
I'd destroy it and hail the dark!
[_She throws the torch to the ground where it slowly dies out.
BRANGÆNA turns away, disturbed, and mounts an outer flight of steps
leading to the roof, where she slowly disappears. ISOLDA listens and
peers, at first shyly, towards an avenue. Urged, by rising impatience,
she then approaches the avenue and looks more boldly. She signs with
her handkerchief, first slightly, then more plainly, waving it quicker
as her impatience increases. A gesture of sudden delight shows that
she has perceived her lover in the distance. She stretches herself
higher and higher, and then, to look better over the intervening
space, hastens back to the steps, from the top of which she signals
again to the on-comer. As he enters, she springs to meet him_.]
SCENE II.
TRISTAN (_rushing in_). Isolda! Beloved!
ISOLDA. Tristan! Beloved one!
(_Passionate embrace, with which they come down to the front_.)
BOTH. Art thou mine?
Do I behold thee?
Do I embrace thee?
Can I believe it?
At last! At last!
Here on my breast!
Do I then clasp thee!
Is it thy own self?
Are these thine eyes?
These thy lips?
Here thy hand?
Here thy heart?
Is't I?--Is't thou,
held in my arms?
Am I not duped?
Is it no dream?
O rapture of spirit!
O sweetest, highest,
fairest, strongest,
holiest bliss?
Endless pleasure!
Boundless treasure!
Ne'er to sever!
Never! Never!
Unconceived,
unbelieved,
overpowering
exaltation!
Joy-proclaiming,
bliss-outpouring,
high in heaven,
earth ignoring!
Tristan mine!
Isolda mine!
Tristan!
Isolda!
Mine alone!
Thine alone!
Ever all my own!
TRISTAN. The light! The light!
O but this light,
how long 'twas let to burn!
The sun had sunk,
the day had fled;
but all their spite
not yet was sped:
the scaring signal
they set alight,
before my belov'd one's dwelling,
my swift approach repelling.
ISOLDA. Thy belov'd one's hand
lowered the light,
for Brangæna's fears
in me roused no fright:
while Love's goddess gave me aid,
sunlight a mock I made.
But the light its fear
and defeat repaid;
with thy misdeeds
a league it made.
What thou didst see
in shadowing night,
to the shining sun
of kingly might
must thou straightway surrender,
that it should
exist in bright
bonds of empty splendor.--
Could I bear it then?
Can I bear it now?
TRISTAN. O now were we
to night devoted,
the dishonest day
with envy bloated,
lying, could not mislead,
though it might part us indeed.
Its pretentious glows
and its glamouring light
are scouted by those
who worship night.
All its flickering gleams
in flashes out-blazing
blind us no more
where we are gazing.
Those who death's night
boldly survey,
those who have studied
her secret way,
the daylight's falsehoods--
rank and fame,
honor and all
at which men aim--
to them are no more matter
than dust which sunbeams scatter,
In the daylight's visions thronging
only abides one longing;
we yearn to hie
to holy night,
where, unending,
only true,
Love extendeth delight!
(TRISTAN _draws_ ISOLDA _gently aside to a flowery bank, sinks
on his knee before her and rests his head on her arm_.)
(TRISTAN _and_ ISOLDA _sink into oblivious ecstasy, reposing on
the flowery bank close together_.)
BRANGÆNA (_from the turret, unseen_). Long I watch
alone by night:
ye enwrapt
in love's delight,
heed my boding
voice aright.
I forewarn you
woe is near;
waken to
my words of fear.
Have a care!
Have a care!
Swiftly night doth wear!
ISOLDA. List, beloved!
TRISTAN. Let me die thus!
ISOLDA (_slowly raising herself a little_). Envious
watcher!
TRISTAN (_remaining in reclining position_). I'll ne'er
waken.
ISOLDA. But the Day
must dawn and rouse thee?
TRISTAN (_raising his head slightly_). Let the Day
to Death surrender!
ISOLDA. Day and Death
will both engender
feud against
our passion tender.
TRISTAN (_drawing_ ISOLDA _gently towards him with expressive
action_). O might we then
together die,
each the other's
own for aye!
never fearing,
never waking,
blest delights
of love partaking,--
each to each be given,
in love alone our heaven!
ISOLDA (_gazing up at him in thoughtful ecstasy_).
O might we then
together die!
TRISTAN. Each the other's--
ISOLDA. Own for aye,--
TRISTAN. Never fearing--
ISOLDA. Never waking--
TRISTAN. Blest delights
of love partaking--
ISOLDA. Each to each be given;
in love alone our heaven.
(ISOLDA, _as if overcome, droops her head on his breast._)
BRANGÆNA'S VOICE (_as before_).
Have a care!
Have a care!
Night yields to daylight's glare.
TRISTAN (_bends smilingly to ISOLDA_).
Shall I listen?
ISOLDA (looking fondly up at TRISTAN).
Let me die thus!
TRISTAN. Must I waken?
ISOLDA. Nought shall wake me!
TRISTAN. Must not daylight
dawn, and rouse me?
ISOLDA. Let the Day
to Death surrender!
TRISTAN. May thus the Day's
evil threats be defied?
ISOLDA (_with growing enthusiasm_).
From its thraldom let us fly.
TRISTAN. And shall not its dawn
be dreaded by us?
ISOLDA (_rising with a grand gesture_).
Night will shield us for aye!
(TRISTAN _follows her; they embrace in fond exaltation_.)
BOTH. O endless Night!
blissful Night!
glad and glorious
lover's Night!
Those whom thou holdest,
lapped in delight,
how could e'en the boldest
unmoved endure thy flight?
How to take it,
how to break it,--
joy existent,
sunlight distant,
Far from mourning,
sorrow-warning,
fancies spurning,
softly yearning,
fear expiring,
sweet desiring!
Anguish flying,
gladly dying;
no more pining,
night-enshrining,
ne'er divided
whate'er betided,
side by side
still abide
in realms of space unmeasured,
vision blest and treasured!
Thou Isolda,
Tristan I;
no more Tristan,
no more Isolda.
Never spoken,
never broken,
newly sighted,
newly lighted,
endless ever
all our dream:
in our bosoms gleam
love delights supreme!
SCENE III.
[BRANGÆNA _utters a piercing cry_. TRISTAN _and_ ISOLDA
_remain in their absorbed state_. KURVENAL _rushes in with
drawn sword_.]
KURVENAL. Save yourself, Tristan!
[_He looks fearfully off behind him_. MARK, MELOT, _and
courtiers, in hunting dress, come swiftly up the avenue and pause in
the foreground in consternation before the lovers_. BRANGÆNA _at
the same time descends from the roof and hastens towards_ ISOLDA.
_The latter in involuntary shame leans on the flowery bank with
averted face_. TRISTAN _with an equally unconscious action
stretches his mantle wide out with one arm, so as to conceal_
ISOLDA _from the gaze of the new-comers. In this position he remains
for some time, turning a changeless look upon the men, who gaze at him
in varied emotion. The morning dawns_.]
TRISTAN. The dreary day--
its last time comes!
MELOT (_to Mark_). Now say to me, my sov'reign,
was my impeachment just?
I staked my head thereon:
How is the pledge redeemed?
Behold him in
the very act:
honor and fame,
faithfully I
have saved from shame for thee.
MARK (_deeply moved, with trembling voice_). Hast thou
preserved them?
Say'st thou so?--
See him there,
the truest of all true hearts!
Look on him
the faithfulest of friends, too
His offence
so black and base
fills my heart
with anguish and disgrace.
Tristan traitor,
what hope stayeth
that the honor
he betrayeth
should by Melot's rede
rest to me indeed?
TRISTAN (_with convulsive violence_). Daylight phantoms--
morning visions
empty and vain--
Avaunt! Begone!
MARK (_in deep emotion_). This--blow.
Tristan, to me?
Where now has truth fled,
if Tristan can betray?
Where now are faith
and friendship fair,
when from the fount of faith,
my Tristan, they are gone?
The buckler Tristan
once did don,
where is that shield
of virtue now?
when from my friends it flies,
and Tristan's honor dies?
(TRISTAN _slowly lowers his eyes to the ground. His features
express increasing grief while MARK continues_.)
Why hast thou noble
service done,
and honor, fame
and potent might
amassed for Mark, thy king?
Must honor, fame,
power and might,
must all thy noble
service done
be paid with Mark's dishonor?
Seemed the reward
too slight and scant
that what thou hast won him--
realms and riches--
thou art the heir unto, all?
When childless he lost
once a wife,
he loved thee so
that ne'er again
did Mark desire to marry.
When all his subjects,
high and low,
demands and pray'rs,
on him did press
to choose himself a consort--
a queen to give the kingdom,
when thou thyself
thy uncle urged
that what the court
and country pleaded
well might be conceded,
opposing high and low,
opposing e'en thyself,
with kindly cunning
still he refused,
till, Tristan, thou didst threaten
forever to leave
both court and land
if thou receivedst
not command
a bride for the king to woo:
then so he let thee do.--
This wondrous lovely wife,
thy might for me did win,
who could behold her,
who address her,
who in pride
and bliss possess her,
but would bless his happy fortune?
She whom I have
paid respect to ever,
whom I owned,
yet possess'd her never
she, the princess
proud and peerless,
lighting up
my life so cheerless,
'spite foes,--without fear,
the fairest of brides
thou didst bring me here.
Why in hell must I bide,
without hope of a heaven?
Why endure disgrace
unhealed by tears or grief?
The unexplained,
unpenetrated
cause of all these woes,
who will to us disclose?
TRISTAN (_raising his eyes pitifully towards_ MARK).
O monarch! I--
may not tell thee, truly;
what thou dost ask
remains for aye unanswered.--
(_He turns to_ ISOLDA, _who looks tenderly up at him_.)
Where Tristan now is going,
wilt thou, Isolda, follow?
The land that Tristan means
of sunlight has no gleams;
it is the dark
abode of night,
from whence I first
came forth to light,
and she who bore me
thence in anguish,
gave up her life,
nor long did languish.
She but looked on my face,
then sought this resting-place.
This land where Night doth reign,
where Tristan once hath lain--
now thither offers he
thy faithful guide to be.
So let Isolda
straight declare
if she will meet him there.
ISOLDA. When to a foreign land
before thou didst invite,
to thee, traitor,
resting true,
did Isolda follow.
Thy kingdom now art showing,
where surely we are going!
why should I shun that land
by which the world is spann'd?
For Tristan's house and home
Isold' will make her own.
The road whereby
we have to go
I pray thee quickly show!--
(TRISTAN _bends slowly over her and kisses her softly on the
forehead_. MELOT _starts furiously forward_.)
MELOT (_drawing his sword_). Thou villain! Ha!
Avenge thee, monarch!
Say, wilt suffer such scorn?
TRISTAN (_drawing his sword and turning quickly
round_)
Who's he will set his life against mine?
(_casting a look at MELOT_).
This was my friend;
he told me he loved me truly:
my fame and honor
he upheld more than all men.
With arrogance
he filled my heart,
and led on those
who prompted me
fame and pow'r to augment me
by wedding thee to our monarch.--
Thy glance, Isolda,
glamoured him thus;
and, jealous, my friend
played me false
to King Mark, whom I betrayed.--
(_He sets on_ MELOT.)
Guard thee, Melot!
[_As_ MELOT _presents his sword_ TRISTAN _drops his
own guard and sinks wounded into the arms of_ KURVENAL. ISOLDA
_throws herself upon his breast_. MARK _holds_ MELOT
_back. The curtain falls quickly_.]
ACT III.
_A Castle-Garden_.
[_At one side high castellated buildings, on the other a low
breastwork interrupted by a watch tower; at back the castle-gate. The
situation is supposed to be on rocky cliffs; through openings the
view extends over a wide sea horizon. The whole gives an impression
of being deserted by the owner, badly kept, and here and there
dilapidated and overgrown_.]
SCENE I.
[_In the foreground, in the garden, lies_ TRISTAN _sleeping
on a couch under the shade of a great lime-tree, stretched out as if
lifeless. At his head sits_ KURVENAL, _bending over him in grief
and anxiously listening to his breathing. From without comes the
mournful sound of a shepherd's pipe_.
_Presently the shepherd comes and looks in with interest, showing
the upper half of his body over the wall_.]
SHEPHERD. Kurvenal, ho!--
Say, Kurvenal,--
tell me, friend!
Does he still sleep?
KURVENAL (_turning a little towards him and shaking his head
sadly_). If he awoke
it would be
but for evermore to leave us,
unless we find
the lady-leech;
alone can she give help.--
See'st thou nought?
No ship yet on the sea?
SHEPHERD. Quite another ditty
then would I play
as merry as ever I may.
But tell me truly,
trusty friend,
why languishes our lord?
KURVENAL. Do not ask me;--
for I can give no answer.
Watch the sea,
if sails come in sight
a sprightly melody play.
SHEPHERD (_turns round and scans the horizon, shading his eyes with
his hand_).
Blank appears the sea!
(_He puts the reed pipe to his mouth and withdraws, playing_.)
TRISTAN (_motionless--faintly_).
The tune so well known--
why wake to that?
(_opens his eyes and slightly turns his head_).
Where am I?
KURVENAL (_starting in joyous surprise_).
Ha!--who is speaking?
It is his voice!--
Tristan! lov'd one!
My lord! my Tristan!
TRISTAN (_with effort_). Who--calls me?
KURVENAL. Life--at last--
O thanks be to heaven!--
sweetest life
unto my Tristan newly given!
TRISTAN (_faintly_). Kurvenal!--thou?
Where--was I?--
Where--am I?
KURVENAL. Where art thou?
In safety, tranquil and sure!
Kareol 'tis;
dost thou not know
thy fathers' halls?
TRISTAN. This my fathers'?
KURVENAL. Look but around.
TRISTAN. What awoke me?
KURVENAL. The herdsman's ditty
hast thou heard, doubtless;
he heedeth thy herds
above on the hills there.
TRISTAN. Have I herds, then?
KURVENAL. Sir, I say it!
Thine are court,
castle--all.
To thee yet true,
thy trusty folk,
as best they might,
have held thy home in guard:
the gift which once
thy goodness gave
to thy serfs and vassals here,
when going far away,
in foreign lands to dwell.
TRISTAN. What foreign land?
KURVENAL. Why! in Cornwall;
where cool and able,
all that was brilliant,
brave and noble,
Tristan, my lord, lightly took.
TRISTAN. Am I in Cornwall?
KURVENAL. No, no; in Kareol.
TRISTAN. How came I here?
KURVENAL. Hey now! how you came?
No horse hither you rode:
a vessel bore you across.
But on my shoulders
down to the ship
you had to ride: they are broad,
they carried you to the shore.
Now you are at home once more;
your own the land,
your native land;
all loved things now are near you,
unchanged the sun doth cheer you.
The wounds from which you languish
here all shall end their anguish.
(_He presses himself to_ TRISTAN'S _breast_.)
TRISTAN. Think'st thou thus!
I know 'tis not so,
but this I cannot tell thee.
Where I awoke
ne'er I was,
but where I wandered
I can indeed not tell thee.
The sun I could not see,
nor country fair, nor people;
but what I saw
I can indeed not tell thee.
It was--
the land from which I once came
and whither I return:
the endless realm
of earthly night.
One thing only
there possessed me:
blank, unending,
all-oblivion.--
How faded all forebodings!
O wistful goadings!--
Thus I call
the thoughts that all
t'ward light of day have press'd me.
What only yet doth rest me,
the love-pains that possess'd me,
from blissful death's affright
now drive me toward the light,
which, deceitful, bright and golden,
round thee, Isolda, shines.
Accurséd day
with cruel glow!
Must thou ever
wake my woe?
Must thy light
be burning ever,
e'en by night
our hearts to sever?
Ah, my fairest,
sweetest, rarest!
When wilt thou--
when, ah, when--
let the torchlight dwindle,
that so my bliss may kindle?
The light, how long it glows!
When will the house repose?
(_His voice has grown fainter and he sinks back gently,
exhausted_.)
KURVENAL (_who has been deeply distressed, now quickly rousts
himself from his dejection_).
I once defied,
through faith in thee,
the one for whom
now with thee I'm yearning.
Trust in my words,
thou soon shalt see her
face to face.
My tongue that comfort giveth,--
if on the earth still she liveth.
TRISTAN (_very feebly_). Yet burns the beacon's spark:
yet is the house not dark,
Isolda lives and wakes:
her voice through darkness breaks.
KURVENAL. Lives she still,
then let new hope delight thee.
If foolish and dull you hold me,
this day you must not scold me.
As dead lay'st thou
since the day
when that accursed Melot
so foully wounded thee.
Thy wound was heavy:
how to heal it?
Thy simple servant
there bethought
that she who once
closed Morold's wound
with ease the hurt could heal thee
that Melot's sword did deal thee.
I found the best
of leeches there,
to Cornwall have I
sent for her:
a trusty serf
sails o'er the sea,
bringing Isold' to thee.
TRISTAN (_transported_). Isolda comes!
Isolda nears! (_He struggles for words_.)
O friendship! high
and holy friendship!
(_Draws_ KURVENAL _to him and embraces him_.)
O Kurvenal,
thou trusty heart,
my truest friend I rank thee!
Howe'er can Tristan thank thee?
My shelter and shield
in fight and strife;
in weal or woe
thou'rt mine for life.
Those whom I hate
thou hatest too;
those whom I love
thou lovest too.
When good King Mark
I followed of old,
thou wert to him truer than gold.
When I was false
to my noble friend,
to betray too thou didst descend.
Thou art selfless,
solely mine;
thou feel'st for me
when I suffer.
But--what I suffer,
thou canst not feel for me!
this terrible yearning in my heart,
this feverish burning's
cruel smart,--
did I but show it,
couldst thou but know it,
no time here wouldst thou tarry,
to watch from tow'r thou wouldst hurry;
with all devotion
viewing the ocean,
with eyes impatiently spying,
there, where her ship's sails are flying.
Before the wind she
drives to find me;
on the wings of love she neareth,--
Isolda hither steereth!--
she nears, she nears,
so boldly and fast!
It waves, it waves,
the flag from the mast!
Hurra! Hurra!
she reaches the bar!
Dost thou not see?
Kurvenal, dost thou not see?
(_As_ KURNEVAL _hesitates to leave_ TRISTAN, _who is
gazing at him in mute expectation, the mournful tune of the shepherd
is heard, as before_.)
KURVENAL (_dejectedly_). Still is no ship in sight.
TRISTAN (_has listened with waning excitement and now
recommences with growing melancholy_).
Is this the meaning then,
thou old pathetic ditty,
of all thy sighing sound?--
On evening's breeze
it sadly rang
when, as a child,
my father's death-news chill'd me;
through morning's mist
it stole more sadly,
when the son
his mother's fate was taught,
when they who gave me breath
both felt the hand of death
to them came also
through their pain
the ancient ditty's
yearning strain,
which asked me once
and asks me now
which was the fate before me
to which my mother bore me?--
What was the fate?--
The strain so plaintive
now repeats it:--
for yearning--and dying!
(_He falls back senseless_.)
KURVENAL (_who has been vainly striving to calm_ TRISTAN, _cries
out in terror_).
My master! Tristan!--
Frightful enchantment!--
O love's deceit!
O passion's pow'r!
Most sweet dream 'neath the sun,
see the work thou hast done!--
Here lies he now,
the noblest of knights,
with his passion all others above:
behold! what reward
his ardor requites;
the one sure reward of love!
(_with sobbing voice_.)
Art thou then dead?
Liv'st thou not?
Hast to the curse succumbed?--
(_He listens for_ TRISTAN'S _breath_.)
O rapture! No!
He still moves! He lives!
and gently his lips are stirr'd.
TRISTAN (_very faintly_). The ship--is't yet in sight?
KURVENAL. The ship? Be sure
t'will come to-day:
it cannot tarry longer.
TRISTAN. On board Isolda,--
see, she smiles--
with the cup
that reconciles.
Dost thou see?
Dost thou see her now?
Full of grace
and loving mildness,
floating o'er
the ocean's wildness?
By billows of flowers
lightly lifted,
gently toward
the land she's drifted.
Her look brings ease
and sweet repose;
her hand one last
relief bestows.
Isolda! Ah, Isolda!
How fair, how sweet art thou!--
And Kurvenal, why!--
what ails thy sight?
Away, and watch for her,
foolish I see so well and plainly,
let not thine eye seek vainly
Dost thou not hear?
Away, with speed!
Haste to the watch-tow'r!
Wilt thou not heed?
The ship, the ship!
Isolda's ship!--
Thou must discern it,
must perceive it!
The ship--dost thou see it?--
(_Whilst_ KURVENAL, _still hesitating, opposes_ TRISTAN,
_the Shepherd's pipe is heard without, playing a joyous strain_.)
KURVENAL (_springing joyously up_).
O rapture! Transport!
(_He rushes to the watch-tower and looks out_.)
Ha! the ship!
From northward it is nearing.
TRISTAN. So I knew,
so I said!
Yes, she yet lives,
and life to me gives.
How could Isold'
from this world be free,
which only holds
Isolda for me?
KURVENAL (_shouting_). Ahoy! Ahoy!
See her bravely tacking!
How full the canvas is filled!
How she darts! how she flies!
TRISTAN. The pennon? the pennon?
KURVENAL. A flag is floating at mast-head,
joyous and bright.
TRISTAN. Aha! what joy!
Now through the daylight
comes my Isolda.
Isolda, oh come!
See'st thou herself?
KURVENAL. The ship is shut
from me by rocks.
TRISTAN. Behind the reef?
Is there not risk!
Those dangerous breakers
ships have oft shattered.--
Who steereth the helm?
KURVENAL. The steadiest seaman.
TRISTAN. Betrays he me?
Is he Melot's ally?
KURVENAL. Trust him like me.
TRISTAN. A traitor thou, too!--
O caitiff!
Canst thou not see her?
KURVENAL. Not yet.
TRISTAN. Destruction!
KURVENAL. Aha! Halla-halloa I
they clear! they clear!
Safely they clear!
Inside the surf
steers now the ship to the strand.
TRISTAN (_shouting in joy_). Hallo-ho! Kurvenal!
Trustiest friend!
All the wealth I own
to-day I bequeath thee.
KURVENAL. With speed they approach.
TRISTAN. Now dost thou see her?
See'st thou Isolda?
KURVENAL. 'Tis she! she waves!
TRISTAN. O woman divine!
KURVENAL. The ship is a-land!
Isolda.'--ha!--
With but one leap
lightly she springs to land!
TRISTAN. Descend from the watch-tow'r,
indolent gazer!
Away! away
to the shore!
Help her! help my belov'd!
KURVENAL. In a trice she shall come;
Trust in my strong arm!
But thou, Tristan,
hold thee tranquilly here!
(_He hastens off_.)
TRISTAN (_tossing on his couch in feverish excitement_).
O sunlight glowing,
glorious ray!
Ah, joy-bestowing
radiant day!
Boundeth my blood,
boisterous flood!
Infinite gladness!
Rapturous madness!
Can I bear to lie
couched here in quiet?
Away, let me fly
to where hearts run riot!
Tristan the brave,
exulting in strength,
has torn himself
from death at length.
(_He raises himself erect_.)
All wounded and bleeding
Sir Morold I defeated;
all bleeding and wounded
Isolda now shall be greeted.
(_He tears the bandage from his wound_.)
Ha, ha, my blood!
Merrily flows it.
(_He springs from his bed and staggers forward_.)
She who can help
my wound and close it,
she comes in her pride,
she comes to my aid.
Be space defied:
let the universe fade!
(_He reels to the centre of the stage_.)
ISOLDA'S VOICE (_without_).
Tristan! Tristan! Belovéd!
TRISTAN (_in frantic excitement_).
What! hails me the light?
The torchlight--ha!--
The torch is extinct!
I come! I come!
SCENE II.
[ISOLDA _hastens breathlessly in_. TRISTAN, _delirious with
excitement, staggers wildly towards her. They meet in the centre of
the stage; she receives him in her arms, where he sinks slowly to the
ground_.]
ISOLDA. Tristan! Ah!
TRISTAN (_turning, his dying eyes on_ ISOLDA). Isolda!--
(_He dies_.)
ISOLDA. 'Tis I, 'tis I--
dearly belov'd!
Wake, and once more
hark to my voice!
Isolda calls.
Isolda comes,
with Tristan true to perish.--
Speak unto me!
But for one moment,
only one moment
open thine eyes!
Such weary days
I waited and longed,
that one single hour
I with thee might awaken.
Betrayed am I then?
Deprived by Tristan
of this our solitary,
swiftly fleeting,
final earthly joy?--
His wound, though--where?
Can I not heal it?
The rapture of night
O let us feel it?
Not of thy wounds,
not of thy wounds must thou expire!
Together, at least,
let fade life's enfeebled fire!--
How lifeless his look!--
still his heart!--
Dared he to deal me
Buch a smart?
Stayed is his breathing's
gentle tide!
Must I be wailing
at his side,
who, in rapture coming to seek him,
fearless sailed o'er the sea?
Too late, too late!
Desperate man!
Casting on me
this cruelest ban!
Comes no relief
for my load of grief?
Silent art keeping
while I am weeping?
But once more, ah!
But once again!--
Tristan!--ha!
he wakens--hark!
Beloved--
--dark!
(_She sinks down senseless upon his body_.)
SCENE III.
[KURVENAL, _who reëntered close behind_ ISOLDA, _has remained
by the entrance speechless and petrified, gazing motionless on_
TRISTAN. _From below is now heard the dull murmur of voices and the
clash of weapons. The Shepherd clambers over the wall_.]
SHEPHERD (_coming hastily and softly to_ KURVENAL).
Kurvenal! Hear!
Another ship!
(KURVENAL _starts up in haste and looks over the rampart, whilst
the Shepherd stands apart, gazing in consternation on_ TRISTAN
_and_ ISOLDA.)
KURVENAL. Fiends and furies!
(_In a burst of anger_.)
All are at hand!
Melot and Mark
I see on the strand,--
Weapons and missiles!--
Guard we the gate!
(_He hastens with the Shepherd to the gate, which they both try
quickly to barricade_.)
THE STEERSMAN (_rushing in_).
Mark and his men
have set on us:
defence is vain!
We're overpowered.
KURVENAL. Stand to and help!--
While lasts my life
I'll let no foe enter here!
BRANGÆNA'S VOICE (_without, calling from below_).
Isolda! Mistress!
KURVENAL. Brangæna's voice! (_Falling down_.)
What want you here?
BRANGÆNA. Open, Kurvenal!
Where is Isolda?
KURVENAL. With foes do you come?
Woe to you, false one!
MELOT'S VOICE (_without_). Stand back, thou fool!
Bar not the way!
KURVENAL (_laughing savagely_). Hurrah for the day
on which I confront thee!
(MELOT, _with armed men, appears under the gateway_.
KURVENAL _falls on him and cuts him down_.)
Die, damnable wretch!
SCENE IV.
MELOT. Woe's me!--Tristan! (_He dies_.)
BRANGÆNA (_still without_). Kurvenal! Madman!
O hear--thou mistakest!
KURVENAL. Treacherous maid! (_To his men_.)
Come! Follow me!
Force them below! (_They fight_.)
MARK (_without_). Hold, thou frantic man!
Lost are thy senses?
KURVENAL. Here ravages Death!
Nought else, O king,
is here to be holden!
If you would earn it, come on!
(_He sets upon_ MARK _and his followers_.)
MARK. Away, rash maniac!
BRANGÆNA (_has climbed over the wall at the side and hastens in the
front_).
Isolda! lady!
Joy and life!--
What sight's here--ha!
Liv'st thou, Isolda! (_She goes to_ ISOLDA'S _aid_.)
MARK (_who with his followers has driven_ KURVENAL _and his men
back from the gate and forced his way in_).O wild mistake!
Tristan, where art thou?
KURVENAL (_desperately wounded, totters before_ MARK _to the
front_).
He lieth--there--
here, where I lie too.--
(_Sinks down at_ TRISTAN'S _feet_.)
MARK. Tristan! Tristan!
Isolda! Woe!
KURVENAL (_trying to grasp_ TRISTAN'S _hand_).
Tristan! true lord!
Chide me not
that I try to follow thee! (_He dies_.)
MARK. Dead together!--
All are dead!
My hero Tristan!
truest of friends,
must thou again
be to thy king a traitor?
Now, when he comes
another proof of love to give thee!
Awaken! awaken.
O hear my lamentation,
thou faithless, faithful friend!
(_Kneels down sobbing over the bodies_.)
BRANGÆNA (_who has revived_ ISOLDA _in her arms_).
She wakes! she lives!
Isolda, hear!
Hear me, mistress beloved!
Tidings of joy
I have to tell thee:
O list to thy Brangæna!
My thoughtless fault I have atoned;
after thy flight
I forthwith went to the king:
the love potion's secret
he scarce had learned
when with sedulous haste
he put to sea,
that he might find thee,
nobly renounce thee
and give thee up to thy love.
MARK. O why, Isolda,
Why this to me?
When clearly was disclosed
what before I could fathom not,
what joy was mine to find
my friend was free from fault!
In haste to wed
thee to my hero
with flying sails
I followed thy track:
but howe'er can
happiness
o'ertake the swift course of woe?
More food for Death did I make:
more wrong grew in mistake.
BRANGÆNA. Dost thou not hear?
Isolda! Lady!
O try to believe the truth!
ISOLDA (_unconscious of all around her, turning her eyes with,
rising inspiration on_ TRISTAN'S _body_).
Mild and softly
he is smiling;
how his eyelids sweetly open!
See, oh comrades,
see you not
how he beameth
ever brighter--
how he rises
ever radiant
steeped in starlight,
borne above?
See you not
how his heart
with lion zest,
calmly happy
beats in his breast?
From his lips
in heavenly rest
sweetest breath
he softly sends.
Harken, friends!
Hear and feel ye not?
Is it I
alone am hearing
strains so tender
and endearing?
Passion swelling,
all things telling,
gently bounding,
from him sounding,
in me pushes,
upward rushes
trumpet tone
that round me gushes.
Brighter growing,
o'er me flowing,
are these breezes
airy pillows?
Are they balmy
beauteous billows?
How they rise
and gleam and glisten!
Shall I breathe them?
Shall I listen?
Shall I sip them,
dive within them,
to my panting
breathing win them?
In the breezes around,
in the harmony sound
in the world's driving
whirlwind be drown'd--
and, sinking,
be drinking--
in a kiss,
highest bliss!
(ISOLDA _sinks, as if transfigured, in_ BRANGÆNA'S _arms
upon_ TRISTAN'S _body. Profound emotion and grief of the
bystanders_. MARK _invokes a blessing on the dead. Curtain_.)