Richard Wagner - Tristan and Isolda
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Richard Wagner >> Tristan and Isolda
[Transcriber's note: The German text is not included in this eBook.]
GRAND OPERA
LIBRETTOS
GERMAN
AND ENGLISH TEXT
AND MUSIC OF THE LEADING MOTIVES
TRISTAN
UND ISOLDE
(TRISTAN AND ISOLDA)
BY
WAGNER
OLIVER DITSON COMPANY
BOSTON
CHAS. H. DITSON & CO
_New York_
LYON & HEALY
_Chicago_
TRISTAN
AND ISOLDA
_OPERA IN THREE ACTS_
BY
RICHARD WAGNER
BOSTON
OLIVER DITSON COMPANY
CHAS. H. DITSON & CO.
NEW YORK
LYON & HEALY
CHICAGO
THE STORY OF
"TRISTAN AND ISOLDA"
ACT I
Tristan, a valiant Cornish knight, is bringing Isolda, princess of
Ireland, over as a bride for his uncle, King Mark. He is himself in
love with her, but owing to a blood feud between them, forces himself
to conceal his passion. Isolda, in anger at his seeming unkindness,
attempts to poison herself and him, but her attendant, Brangaena,
changes the draft for a love potion, which enflames their passion
beyond power of restraint.
ACT II
Isolda has been wedded to King Mark, but holds stolen interviews with
Tristan, during one of which they are surprised, for Tristan has been
betrayed by a jealous friend, Melot. Touched by King Mark's bitter
reproaches, Tristan provokes Melot to fight and suffers himself to be
mortally wounded.
ACT III
Tristan's faithful servant, Kurvenal, has carried his wounded master
to his native home in Brittany, where he is carefully tended. Isolda
has also been sent for, as being skilled above all others in the
healing art. The excitement of her approach only hastens Tristan's
death, and he breathes his last sigh in her arms. Mark has followed
Isolda; he has had matters explained, and is prepared to reunite the
lovers, but it is too late. Isolda utters her lament over the body of
her lover, and her heart breaks: in death alone are they united.
* * * * *
DRAMATIS PERSONAE
TRISTAN
KING MARK
ISOLDA
KURVENAL
MELOT
BRANGAENA
A SHEPHERD
A STEERSMAN
SAILORS, KNIGHTS, AND ESQUIRES
TRISTAN AND ISOLDA.
ACT I.
[_A pavilion erected on the deck of a ship, richly hung with
tapestry, quite closed in at back at first. A narrow hatchway at one
side leads below into the cabin_.]
SCENE I.
ISOLDA _on a couch, her face buried in the cushions.
--_BRANGAENA_ holding open a curtain, looks over the side of the
vessel_.
THE VOICE OF A YOUNG SAILOR (_from above as if at the
mast-head_).
ISOLDA (_starting up suddenly_).
What wight dares insult me?
(_She looks round in agitation_.)
Brangaena, ho!
Say, where sail we?
BRANGAENA (_at the opening_).
Bluish stripes
are stretching along the west:
swiftly sails
the ship to shore;
if restful the sea by eve
we shall readily set foot on land.
ISOLDA. What land?
BRANGAENA. Cornwall's verdant strand.
ISOLDA. Never more!
To-day nor to-morrow!
BRANGAENA. What mean you, mistress? say!
(_She lets the curtain fall and hastens to_ ISOLDA.)
ISOLDA (_with wild gaze_).
O fainthearted child,
false to thy fathers!
Ah, where, mother,
hast given thy might
that commands the wave and the tempest?
O subtle art
of sorcery,
for mere leech-craft followed too long!
Awake in me once more,
power of will!
Arise from thy hiding
within my breast!
Hark to my bidding,
fluttering breezes!
Arise and storm
in boisterous strife!
With furious rage
and hurricane's hurdle
waken the sea
from slumbering calm;
rouse up the deep
to its devilish deeds!
Shew it the prey
which gladly I proffer!
Let it shatter this too daring ship
and enshrine in ocean each shred!
And woe to the lives!
Their wavering death-sighs
I leave to ye, winds, as your lot.
BRANGAENA (_in extreme alarm and concern for_ ISOLDA).
Out, alas!
Ah, woe!
I've ever dreaded some ill!--
Isolda! mistress!
Heart of mine!
What secret dost thou hide?
Without a tear
thou'st quitted thy father and mother,
and scarce a word
of farewell to friends thou gavest;
leaving home thou stood'st,
how cold and still!
pale and speechless
on the way,
food rejecting,
reft of sleep,
stern and wretched,
wild, disturbed;
how it pains me
so to see thee!
Friends no more we seem,
being thus estranged.
Make me partner
in thy pain!
Tell me freely
all thy fears!
Lady, thou hearest,
sweetest and dearest;
if for true friend you take me,
your confidant O make me!
ISOLDA. Air! air!
or my heart will choke!
Open! open there wide!
(BRANGAENA _hastily draws the centre curtains apart_.)
SCENE II.
[_The whole length of the ship is now seen, down to the stern, with
the sea and horizon beyond. Round the mainmast sailors are ensconced,
busied with ropes; beyond them in the stern are groups of knights and
attendants, also seated; a little apart stands_ TRISTAN_ folding
his arms and thoughtfully gazing out to sea; at his feet_ KURVENAL
_reclines carelessly. From the mast-head above is once more heard
the voice of the young sailor_.]
THE YOUNG SAILOR (_at the mast-head invisible_).
The wind so wild
blows homewards now;
my Irish child,
where waitest thou?
Say, must our sails be weighted,
filled by thy sighs unbated?
Waft us, wind strong and wild!
Woe, ah woe for my child!
ISOLDA (_whose eyes have at once sought_ TRISTAN _and fixed
stonily on him--gloomily_). Once beloved--
now removed--
brave and bright,
coward knight!--
Death-devoted head!
Death-devoted heart!--
(_laughing unnaturally_).
Think'st highly of yon minion?
BRANGAENA (_following her glance_).
Whom mean'st thou?
ISOLDA. There, that hero
who from mine eyes
averts his own:
in shrinking shame
my gaze he shuns--
Say, how hold you him?
BRANGAENA. Mean you Sir Tristan,
lady mine?
Extolled by ev'ry nation,
his happy country's pride,
The hero of creation,--
whose fame so high and wide?
ISOLDA (_jeeringly_).
In shrinking trepidation
his shame he seeks to hide,
While to the king, his relation,
he brings the corpse-like bride!--
Seems it so senseless
What I say?
Go ask himself,
our gracious host,
dare he approach my side?
No courteous heed
or loyal care
this hero t'wards
his lady turns;
but to meet her his heart is daunted,
this knight so highly vaunted!
Oh! he wots
well the cause!
To the traitor go,
bearing his lady's will!
As my servant bound,
straightway should he approach.
BRANGAENA. Shall I beseech him
to attend thee?
ISOLDA. Nay, order him:
pray, understand it:--
I, Isolda
do command it!
[_At an imperious sign from ISOLDA BRANGAENA withdraws and timidly
walks along the deck towards the stern, past the working sailors.
ISOLDA, following her with fixed gaze, sinks back on the couch,
where she remains seated during the following, her eyes still turned
sternward_.]
KURVENAL (_observing Brangaena's approach, plucks Tristan by the robe
without rising_.) Beware, Tristan!
Message from Isolda!
TRISTAN (_starting_). What is't?--Isolda?--
(_He quickly regains his composure as BRANGAENA approaches and
curtsies to him_.)
What would my lady?
I her liegeman,
fain will listen
while her loyal
woman tells her will.
BRANGAENA. My lord, Sir Tristan,
Dame Isolda
would have speech
with you at once.
TRISTAN. Is she with travel worn?
The end is near:
nay, ere the set of sun
sight we the land.
All that your mistress commands me,
trust me, I shall mind.
BRANGAENA. That you, Sir Tristan,
go to her,--
this is my lady's wish.
TRISTAN. Where yonder verdant meadows
in distance dim are mounting,
waits my sov'reign
for his mate:
to lead her to his presence
I'll wait upon the princess:
'tis an honor
all my own.
BRANGAENA. My lord, Sir Tristan,
list to me:
this one thing
my lady wills,
that thou at once attend her,
there where she waits for thee.
TRISTAN. In any station
where I stand
I truly serve but her,
the pearl of womanhood.
If I unheeding
left the helm,
how might I pilot her ship
in surety to King Mark?
BRANGAENA. Tristan, my master,
why mock me thus?
Seemeth my saying
obscure to you?
list to my lady's words:
thus, look you, she hath spoken:
"Go order him,
and understand it,
I--Isolda--
do command it."
KURVENAL (_springing up_). May I an answer make her?
TRISTAN. What wouldst thou wish to reply?
KURVENAL. This should she say
to Dame Isold':
"Though Cornwall's crown
and England's isle
for Ireland's child he chose,
his own by choice
she may not be;
he brings the king his bride.
A hero-knight
Tristan is hight!
I've said, nor care to measure
your lady's high displeasure."
[_While_ TRISTAN _seeks to stop him, and the offended_
BRANGAENA _turns to depart_, KURVENAL _sings after her at the
top of his voice, as she lingeringly withdraws_.]
"Sir Morold toiled
o'er mighty wave
the Cornish tax to levy;
In desert isle
was dug his grave,
he died of wounds so heavy.
His head now hangs
in Irish lands,
Sole were-gild won
at English hands.
Bravo, our brave Tristan!
Let his tax take who can!"
[KURVENAL, _driven away by_ TRISTAN'S _chidings, descends into
the cabin_. BRANGAENA _returns in discomposure to_ ISOLDA,
_closing the curtains behind her, while all the men take up the
chorus and are heard without_.]
KNIGHTS AND ATTENDANTS.
"His head now hangs
in Irish lands,
sole were-gild won
at English hands.
Bravo, our brave Tristan!
Let his tax take who can!"
SCENE III.
[ISOLDA _and_ BRANGAENA _alone, the curtain being again
completely closed_. ISOLDA _rises with a gesture of despair and
wrath_. BRANGAENA _falls at her feet_.]
BRANGAENA. Ah! an answer
so insulting!
ISOLDA (_checking herself on the brink of a fearful outburst_).
How now? of Tristan?
I'd know if he denies me.
BRANGAENA. Ah! question not!
ISOLDA. Quick, say without fear!
BRANGAENA. With courteous phrase
he foiled my will.
ISOLDA. But when you bade him hither?
BRANGAENA. When I had straightway
bid him come,
where'er he stood,
he said to me,
he truly served but thee,
the pearl of womanhood;
if he unheeded
left the helm
how could he pilot the ship
in surety to King Mark?
ISOLDA (_bitterly_).
"How could he pilot the ship
in surety to King Mark!"
And wait on him with were-gild
from Ireland's island won!
BRANGAENA.
As I gave out the message
and in thy very words,
thus spoke his henchman Kurvenal--
ISOLDA.
Heard I not ev'ry sentence?
it all has reached my ear.
If thou hast learnt my disgrace
now hear too whence it has grown.
How scoffingly
they sing about me!
Quickly could I requite them!
What of the boat
so bare and frail,
that floated by our shore?
What of the broken
stricken man,
feebly extended there?
Isolda's art
he gladly owned;
with herbs, simples
and healing salves
the wounds from which he suffered
she nursed in skilful wise.
Though "Tantris"
The name that he took unto him,
as "Tristan"
anon Isolda knew him,
when in the sick man's keen blade
she perceived a notch had been made,
wherein did fit
a splinter broken
in Morold's head,
the mangled token
sent home in hatred rare:
this hand did find it there.
I heard a voice
from distance dim;
with the sword in hand
I came to him.
Full well I willed to slay him,
for Morold's death to pay him.
But from his sick bed
he looked up
not at the sword,
not at my arm--
his eyes on mine were fastened,
and his feebleness
softened my heart:
the sword--dropped from my fingers.
Though Morold's steel had maimed him
to health again I reclaimed him!
when he hath homeward wended
my emotion then might be ended.
BRANGAENA.
O wondrous! Why could I not see this?
The guest I sometime
helped to nurse--?
ISOLDA.
His praise briskly they sing now:--
"Bravo, our brave Tristan!"--
he was that distressful man.
A thousand protestations
of truth and love he prated.
Hear how a knight
fealty knows!--
When as Tantris
unforbidden he'd left me,
as Tristan
boldly back he came,
in stately ship
from which in pride
Ireland's heiress
in marriage he asked
for Mark, the Cornish monarch,
his kinsman worn and old.
In Morold's lifetime
dared any have dreamed
to offer us such an insult?
For the tax-paying
Cornish prince
to presume to court Ireland's princess!
Ah, woe is me!
I it was
who for myself
did shape this shame!
with death-dealing sword
should I have stabbed him;
weakly it escaped me:--
now serfdom I have shaped me.
Curse him, the villain!
Curse on his head!
Vengeance! Death!
Death for me too!
BRANGAENA (_throwing herself upon_ ISOLDA _with impetuous
tenderness_).
Isolda! lady!
loved one! fairest!
sweet perfection!
mistress rarest!
Hear me! come now,
sit thee here.--
(_Gradually draws_ ISOLDA _to the couch_.)
What a whim!
what causeless railing!
How came you so wrong-minded
and by mere fancy blinded?
Sir Tristan gives thee
Cornwall's kingdom;
then, were he erst thy debtor,
how could he reward thee better?
His noble uncle
serves he so:
think too what a gift
on thee he'd bestow!
With honor unequalled
all he's heir to
at thy feet he seeks to shower,
to make thee a queenly dower.
(ISOLDA _turns away_.)
If wife he'd make thee
unto King Mark
why wert thou in this wise complaining?
Is he not worth thy gaining?
Of royal race
and mild of mood,
who passes King Mark
in might and power?
If a noble knight
like Tristan serves him,
who would not but feel elated,
so fairly to be mated.
ISOLDA (_gazing vacantly before her_).
Glorious knight!
And I must near him
loveless ever languish!
How can I support such anguish?
BRANGAENA.
What's this, my lady?
loveless thou?
(_Approaching coaxingly and kissing_ ISOLDA.)
Where lives there a man
would not love thee?
Who could see Isolda
And not sink
at once into bondage blest?
And if e'en it could be
any were cold,
did any magic
draw him from thee,
I'd bring the false one
back to bondage,
And bind him in links of love.--
(_Secretly and confidentially, close to_ ISOLDA.)
Mindest thou not
thy mother's arts?
Think you that she
who'd mastered those
would have sent me o'er the sea,
without assistance for thee?
ISOLDA (_darkly_).
My mother's rede
I mind aright,
and highly her magic
arts I hold:--
Vengeance they wreak for wrongs,
rest give to wounded spirits.--
Yon casket hither bear.
BRANGAENA.
It holds a balm for thee.--
(_She brings forward a small golden coffer, opens it, and points to
its contents_.)
Thy mother placed inside it
her subtle magic potions.
There's salve for sickness
or for wounds,
and antidotes
for deadly drugs.--
(_She takes a bottle_.)
The helpfullest draught
I hold in here.
ISOLDA.
Not so, I know a better.
I make a mark
to know it again--
This draught 'tis I would drain.
(_Seizes flask and shows it_.)
BRANGAENA (_recoiling in horror_).
The draught of death!
(ISOLDA _has risen from the sofa and now hears with increasing dread
the cries of the sailors_.)
VOICES OF THE CREW (_without_).
"Ho! heave ho! hey!
Reduce the sail!
The mainsail in!
Ho! heave ho! hey!"
ISOLDA.
Our journey has been swift.
Woe is me! Near to the land!
SCENE IV.
(KURVENAL _boisterously enters through the curtains_.)
KURVENAL.
Up, up, ye ladies!
Look alert!
Straight bestir you!
Loiter not,--here is the land!--
To dame Isolda
says the servant
of Tristan,
our hero true:--
Behold our flag is flying!
it waveth landwards aloft:
in Mark's ancestral castle
may our approach be seen.
So, dame Isolda,
he prays to hasten,
for land straight to prepare her,
that thither he may bear her.
ISOLDA (_who has at first cowered and shuddered on hearing the
message, now speaks calmly and with dignity_). My greeting take
unto your lord
and tell him what I say now:
Should he assist to land me
and to King Mark would he hand me,
unmeet and unseemly
were his act,
the while my pardon
was not won
for trespass black and base:
So bid him seek my grace.
(KURVENAL _makes a gesture of defiance_.)
Now mark me well,
This message take:--
Nought will I yet prepare me,
that he to land may bear me;
I will not by him be landed,
nor unto King Mark be handed
ere granting forgiveness
and forgetfulness,
which 'tis seemly
he should seek:--
for all his trespass base
I tender him my grace.
KURVENAL.
Be assured,
I'll bear your words:
we'll see what he will say!
(_He retires quickly_.)
SCENE V.
ISOLDA (_hurries to_ BRANGAENA _and embraces her vehemently_).
Now farewell, Brangaena!
Greet ev'ry one,
Greet my father and mother!
BRANGAENA.
What now? what mean'st thou?
Wouldst thou flee?
And where must I then follow?
ISOLDA (_checking herself suddenly_).
Here I remain:
heard you not?
Tristan will I await.--
I trust in thee
to aid in this:
prepare the true
cup of peace:
thou mindest how it is made.
BRANGAENA.
What meanest thou?
ISOLDA (_taking a bottle from the coffer_).
This it is!
From the flask go pour
this philtre out;
yon golden goblet 'twill fill.
BRANGAENA (_filled with terror receiving the flask_).
Trust I my wits?
ISOLDA.
Wilt thou be true?
BRANGAENA.
The draught--for whom?
ISOLDA. Him who betrayed!
BRANGAENA. Tristan?
ISOLDA. Truce he'll drink with me.
BRANGAENA (_throwing herself at_ ISOLDA'S _feet_). O horror!
Pity thy handmaid!
ISOLDA. Pity thou me,
false-hearted maid!
Mindest thou not
my mother's arts?
Think you that she
who'd mastered those
would have sent thee o'er the sea
without assistance for me?
A salve for sickness
doth she offer
and antidotes
for deadly drugs:
for deepest grief
and woe supreme
gave she the draught of death.
Let Death now give her thanks!
BRANGAENA (_scarcely able to control herself_). O deepest
grief!
ISOLDA. Now, wilt thou obey?
BRANGAENA. O woe supreme!
ISOLDA. Wilt thou be true?
BRANGAENA. The draught?
KURVENAL (_entering_). Sir Tristan!
(BRANGAENA _rises, terrified and confused_. ISOLDA _strives with
immense effort to control herself_.)
ISOLDA (_to Kurvenal_). Sir Tristan may approach!
SCENE VI.
[KURVENAL _retires again_. BRANGAENA, _almost beside herself,
turns up the stage_. ISOLDA, _mustering all her powers of
resolution, walks slowly and with dignity towards the sofa, by the
head of which she supports herself, turning her eyes firmly towards
the entrance_]
(TRISTAN _enters, and pauses respectfully at the entrance_.)
TRISTAN. Demand, lady,
what you will.
ISOLDA. While knowing not
what my demand is,
wert thou afraid
still to fulfil it,
fleeing my presence thus?
TRISTAN. Honor
Held me in awe.
ISOLDA. Scant honor hast thou
shown unto me;
for, unabashed,
withheldest thou
obedience unto my call.
TRISTAN. Obedience 'twas
forbade me to come.
ISOLDA. But little I owe
thy lord, methinks,
if he allows
ill manners
unto his own promised bride.
TRISTAN. In our land
it is the law
that he who fetches
home the bride
should stay afar from her.
ISOLDA. On what account?
TRISTAN. 'Tis the custom.
ISOLDA. Being so careful,
my lord Tristan,
another custom
can you not learn?
Of enemies friends make:
for evil acts amends make.
TRISTAN. Who is my foe?
ISOLDA. Find in thy fears!
Blood-guilt
gets between us.
TRISTAN. That was absolved.
ISOLDA. Not between us.
TRISTAN. In open field,
'fore all the folk
our old feud was abandoned.
ISOLDA. 'Twas not there
I held Tantris hid
when Tristan was laid low,
He stood there brawny,
bright and brave;
but in his truce
I took no part:
my tongue its silence had learnt.
When in chambered stillness
sick he lay
with the sword I stood
before him, stern;
silent--my lips,
motionless--my hand.
But that which my hand
and lips had once vowed,
I swore in stealth to adhere to:
lo! now my desire I'm near to.
TRISTAN. What hast thou sworn?
ISOLDA (_quickly_). Vengeance for Morold!
TRISTAN (_quietly_). Mindst thou that?
ISOLDA (_animated_). Dare you to flout me?--
Was he not my betrothed,
that noble Irish knight?
For his sword a blessing I sought;
for me only he fought.
When he was murdered
no honor fell.
In that heartfelt misery
my vow was framed;
if no man remained to right it,
I, a maid, must needs requite it.--
Weak and maimed,
when might was mine,
why at thy death did I pause?
Thou shalt know the secret cause.--
Thy hurts I tended
that, when sickness ended,
thou shouldst fall by some man,
as Isolda's revenge should plan.
But now attempt
thy fate to foretell me?
if their friendship all men do sell thee,
what foe can seek to fell thee?
TRISTAN (_pale and gloomy, offers her his sword_). If
thou so lovedst this lord,
then lift once more my sword,
nor from thy purpose refrain;
let the weapon not fail again.
ISOLDA. Put up thy sword
which once I swung,
when vengeful rancor
my bosom wrung,
when thy masterful eyes
did ask me straight
whether King Mark
might seek me for mate.
The sword harmless descended.--
Drink, let our strife be ended!
(ISOLDA _beckons_ BRANGAENA. _She trembles and hesitates to
obey_. ISOLDA _commands her with a more imperious gesture_.
BRANGAENA _sets about preparing the drink_.)
VOICES OF THE CREW (_without_). Ho! heave ho! hey!
Reduce the sail!
The foresail in!
Ho! heave ho! hey!
TRISTAN (_starting from his gloomy brooding_). Where
are we?
ISOLDA. Near to shore.
Tristan, is warfare ended?
Hast not a word to offer?
TRISTAN (_darkly_). Concealment's mistress
makes me silent:
I know what she conceals,
conceal, too, more than she knows.
ISOLDA. Thy silence nought
but feigning I deem.
Friendship wilt thou still deny?
(_Renewed cries of the Sailors_.)
(_At an impatient sign from_ ISOLDA BRANGAENA _hands
her the filled cup_.)
ISOLDA (_advancing with the cup to_ TRISTAN, _who gazes
immovably into her eyes_).
Thou hear'st the cry?
The shore's in sight:
we must ere long (_with slight scorn_)
stand by King Mark together.
SAILORS (_without_). Haul the warp!
Anchor down!
TRISTAN (_starting wildly_). Down with the anchor!
Her stern to the stream!
The sails a-weather the mast!
(_He takes the cup from_ ISOLDA.)
I know the Queen
of Ireland well,
unquestioned are
her magic arts:
the balsam cured me
which she brought;
now bid me quaff the cup,
that I may quite recover.
Heed to my all--
atoning oath,
which in return I tender
Tristan's honor--
highest truth!
Tristan's anguish--
brave distress!
Traitor spirit,
dawn-illumined!
Endless trouble's
only truce!
Oblivion's kindly draught,
with rapture thou art quaff'd!
(_He lifts the cup and drinks_.)
ISOLDA. Betrayed e'en here?
I must halve it!--
(_She wrests the cup from his hand_.)
Betrayer, I drink to thee!
[_She drinks, and then throws away the cup. Both, seized with
shuddering, gaze with deepest emotion, but immovable demeanor, into
one another's eyes, in which the expression of defiance to death
fades and melts into the glow of passion. Trembling seizes them,
they convulsively clutch their hearts and pass their hands over their
brows. Their glances again seek to meet, sink in confusion, and once
more turn with growing longing upon one another_.]
ISOLDA (_with trembling voice_). Tristan!
TRISTAN (_overpowered_). Isolda!
ISOLDA (_sinking upon his breast_). Traitor beloved!
TRISTAN. Woman divine!
(_He embraces her with ardor. They remain in a silent embrace_.)
ALL THE MEN (_without_). Hail! Hail!
Hail our monarch!
Hail to Mark, the king!
BRANGAENA (_who, filled with confusion and horror, has leaned over
the side with averted face, now turns to behold the pair locked in
their close embrace, and rushes to the front, wringing her hands in
despair_). Woe's me! Woe's me!
Endless mis'ry
I have wrought
instead of death!
Dire the deed
of my dull fond heart:
it cries aloud to heav'n!
(_They start from their embrace_.)
TRISTAN (_bewildered_). What troubled dream
of Tristan's honor?
ISOLDA. What troubled dream
Of Isolda's shame?
TRISTAN. Have I then lost thee?
ISOLDA. Have I repulsed thee?
TRISTAN. Fraudulent magic,
framing deceit!
BOTH. Languishing passion,
longing and growing,
love ever yearning,
loftiest glowing!
Rapture confess'd
rides in each breast!
Isolda! Tristan!
Tristan! Isolda!
World, I can shun thee
my love is won me!
Thou'rt my thought, all above:
highest delight of love!
SCENE VII.
[_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_.]
BRANGAENA (_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, Brangaena?
What are those cries?
BRANGAENA. Isolda--mistress!
Compose thyself!
ISOLDA. Where am I! living?
What was that draught?
BRANGAENA (_despairingly_). The love-potion!
ISOLDA (_staring with horror at_ TRISTAN). Tristan!
TRISTAN. Isolda!
ISOLDA. Must I live, then?
(_Falls fainting upon his breast_.)
BRANGAENA (_to the women_). Look to your lady!
TRISTAN. O rapture fraught with cunning!
O fraud with bliss o'er-running!