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diff --git a/16250.txt b/16250.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..41ae17c --- /dev/null +++ b/16250.txt @@ -0,0 +1,3090 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Tristan and Isolda, by Richard Wagner + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Tristan and Isolda + Opera in Three Acts + +Author: Richard Wagner + +Release Date: July 8, 2005 [EBook #16250] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRISTAN AND ISOLDA *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Michel Boto and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +[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! + +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. + +[BRANGAENA, _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. + +BRANGAENA (_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. + +BRANGAENA. 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? + +BRANGAENA. 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. + +BRANGAENA. 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, Brangaena! +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! + +BRANGAENA. 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. + +BRANGAENA. 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. +BRANGAENA 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 Brangaena'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_.) + +BRANGAENA (_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._) + +BRANGAENA'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. + +[BRANGAENA _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_. BRANGAENA _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. +Accursed 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! Beloved! + +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 reentered 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! + +BRANGAENA'S VOICE (_without, calling from below_). +Isolda! Mistress! + +KURVENAL. Brangaena's voice! (_Falling down_.) +What want you here? + +BRANGAENA. 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_.) + +BRANGAENA (_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! + +BRANGAENA (_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_.) + +BRANGAENA (_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 Brangaena! +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. + +BRANGAENA. 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_ BRANGAENA'S _arms +upon_ TRISTAN'S _body. Profound emotion and grief of the +bystanders_. MARK _invokes a blessing on the dead. Curtain_.) + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Tristan and Isolda, by Richard Wagner + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK TRISTAN AND ISOLDA *** + +***** This file should be named 16250.txt or 16250.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/6/2/5/16250/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Michel Boto and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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