Tristan and Isolda

TRISTAN (tossing on his couch in feverish excitement).O sunlight glowing,glorious ray!Ah, joy-bestowingradiant day!Boundeth my blood,boisterous flood!Infinite gladness!Rapturous madness!Can I bear to liecouched here in quiet?Away, let me flyto where hearts run riot!TRISTAN the brave,exulting in strength,has torn himselffrom death at length.

(He raises himself erect.)

All wounded and bleedingSir Morold I defeated;all bleeding and woundedIsolda 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 helpmy 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 morehark to my voice!Isolda calls.Isolda comes,with Tristan true to perish.—Speak unto me!But for one moment,only one momentopen thine eyes!Such weary daysI waited and longed,that one single hourI with thee might awaken.Betrayed am I then?Deprived by Tristanof this our solitary,swiftly fleeting,final earthly joy?—His wound, though—where?Can I not heal it?The rapture of nightO 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 meBuch a smart?Stayed is his breathing'sgentle tide!Must I be wailingat his side,who, in rapture coming to seek him,fearless sailed o'er the sea?Too late, too late!Desperate man!Casting on methis cruelest ban!Comes no relieffor my load of grief?Silent art keepingwhile 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 MarkI 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 menhave set on us:defence is vain!We're overpowered.KURVENAL. Stand to and help!—While lasts my lifeI'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 dayon 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 notthat I try to follow thee! (He dies.)MARK. Dead together!—All are dead!My hero Tristan!truest of friends,must thou againbe to thy king a traitor?Now, when he comesanother 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 joyI have to tell thee:O list to thy Brangæna!My thoughtless fault I have atoned;after thy flightI forthwith went to the king:the love potion's secrethe scarce had learnedwhen with sedulous hastehe put to sea,that he might find thee,nobly renounce theeand give thee up to thy love.MARK. O why, Isolda,Why this to me?When clearly was disclosedwhat before I could fathom not,what joy was mine to findmy friend was free from fault!In haste to wedthee to my herowith flying sailsI followed thy track:but howe'er canhappinesso'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 softlyhe is smiling;how his eyelids sweetly open!See, oh comrades,see you nothow he beamethever brighter—how he risesever radiantsteeped in starlight,borne above?See you nothow his heartwith lion zest,calmly happybeats in his breast?From his lipsin heavenly restsweetest breathhe softly sends.Harken, friends!Hear and feel ye not?Is it Ialone am hearingstrains so tenderand endearing?Passion swelling,all things telling,gently bounding,from him sounding,in me pushes,upward rushestrumpet tonethat round me gushes.Brighter growing,o'er me flowing,are these breezesairy pillows?Are they balmybeauteous billows?How they riseand gleam and glisten!Shall I breathe them?Shall I listen?Shall I sip them,dive within them,to my pantingbreathing win them?In the breezes around,in the harmony soundin the world's drivingwhirlwind 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.)