Tristan und Isolde (Wagner)/Act II
ACT II.
[A Garden before Isolda's Chamber which lies at one side and is approached by steps. Bright and pleasant summer night. At the open door a burning torch is fixed. Sounds of hunting heard.]
SCENE I.
[Brangæna, on the steps leading to the chamber, is watching the retreat of the still audible hunters. She looks anxiously back into the chamber as Isolda emerges thence in ardent animation.]
Isolda. Fet do you hear?
I lost the sound some time.
Brang. (listening). Still do they stay:
clearly ring the horns.
Isolda (listening). Fear but deludes
thy anxious ear;
by sounds of rustling
leaves thou'rt deceived,
aroused by laughter of winds.
Brang. 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?
Brang. 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.
Brang. 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:
how would you decry his friendship?
He serves Isolda
better than you:
his hand gives help
which yours denies:
what need of such delay?
The signal, Brangæna!
O give the signal!
Tread out the torch's
trembling gleam,
that night may envelop
all with her veil.
Already her peace reigns
o'er hill and hall,
her rapturous awe
the heart does enthral;
allow then the light to fall!
Let but its dread lustre die!
let my beloved draw nigh!
Brang. 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 magie 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.
Brang. 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!
I lost the sound some time.
Brang. (listening). Still do they stay:
clearly ring the horns.
Isolda (listening). Fear but deludes
thy anxious ear;
by sounds of rustling
leaves thou'rt deceived,
aroused by laughter of winds.
Brang. 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?
Brang. 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.
Brang. 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:
how would you decry his friendship?
He serves Isolda
better than you:
his hand gives help
which yours denies:
what need of such delay?
The signal, Brangæna!
O give the signal!
Tread out the torch's
trembling gleam,
that night may envelop
all with her veil.
Already her peace reigns
o'er hill and hall,
her rapturous awe
the heart does enthral;
allow then the light to fall!
Let but its dread lustre die!
let my beloved draw nigh!
Brang. 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 magie 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.
Brang. And if by the artful
love-potion's lures
thy light of reason is ravished,
if thou art reckless
when I would warn thee,
this once oh wait
and weigh my pleading!
I implore, leave it alight!—
The torch! the torch!
O put it not out this night!
Isolda. She who causes thus
my bosom's throes,
whose eager fire
within me glows,
whose light upon
my spirit flows,
Love's goddess needs
that night should close;
that brightly she may reign
and shun the torchlight vain.
(She goes up to the door and takes down the torch.)
Go watch without—
keep wary guard!
The signal!—
and were it my spirit's spark,
smiling
I'd destroy it and hail the dark!
[She throws the torch to the ground where it slowly dies out. Brangæna turns away, disturbed, and mounts an outer flights 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 than, 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.
Tris. (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!
Unconceivéd,
unbelievéd,
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!
Tris. The light! The light!
O but this light,
how long 'twas let to burn!
The sun had sunk,
the day had fled;
but all their spite
not yet was sped;
the scaring signal
they set alight,
before my belov'd one's dwelling,
my swift approach repelling.
Isolda. Thy belov'd one's hand
lowered the light,
for Brangæna's fears
in me roused no fright:
while Love's goddess gave me aid
sunlight a mock I made.
But the light its fear
and defeat repaid;
with thy misdeeds
a league it made.
What thou didst see
in shadowing night,
to the shining sun
of kingly might
must thou straightway surrender,
that it should
exist in bright
bonds of empty splendor.—
Could I bear it then?
Can I bear it now?
Tris. 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 cut-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 rame,
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.)
Both. O night of rapture
rest upon us!
lift our lives
remembrance from us;
let us but
abide with thee:
from the world
oh set us free!
Extinguished in
the twilight's streaming
all our doubting,
all our dreaming,
all our mem'ries,
all our fancies:
sacred twilight's
soft advances
bid vain fears to cease,—
from the world release.
Hid our hearts away
sunlight's streaming,
bliss would bloom
from stars' tender beaming.
To thy enchantment
we surrender,
beneath thy gaze
so wondrous tender;
heart to heart
and lip to lip,
each the other's
breath we sip.
Blissful beams
our eyes are binding,
abashed is earth
with radiance blinding:
lit by the daylight's
dazzling lie,
undaunted by falsehoods
which we defy
thou'rt my world,
thine am I
Wondrous rapture weaving,
cherished visions achieving,
ne'er daunted
by daylight's beam
by our undying dream.
(Tristan and Isolda sink into oblivious ecstasy reposing on the flowery bank close together).
Brang. (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, belovéd!
Tris. Let me die thus!
Isolda (slowly raising herself a little). Envious watcher!
Tris. (remaining in reclining position). I'll ne'er waken.
Isolde. But the Day
must dawn and rouse thee?
Tris. (raising his head slightly). Let the Day
to Death surrender!
Isolda. Day and Death
will both engender
feud against
our passion tender.
Tris. (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!
Tris. Each the other's—
Isolda. Own for aye,—
Tris. Never fearing—
Isolda. Never waking—
Tris. Blest delights
of love partaking—
Isolda. Each to each be given;
in love alone our heaven.
(Isolda, (as if overcome, droops her head on his breast.)
Brangæna's Voice (as before).
Have a care!
Have a care!
Night yields to daylight's glare.
Tris. (bends smilingly to Isolda).
Shall I listen?
Isolda (looking fondly up at Tristan).
Let me die thus!
Tris. Must I waken?
Isolda. Nought shall wake me!
Tris. Must not daylight
dawn, and rouse me?
Isolda. Let the Day
to Death surrender!
Tris. May thus the Day's
evil threats be defied?
Isolda (with growing enthusiasm).
From its thraldom let us fly.
Tris. 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 spoke,
never broken,
newly sighted,
newly lighted,
endless ever
all our dream:
in our bosoms gleam
love delights supreme!
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!
Unconceivéd,
unbelievéd,
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!
Tris. The light! The light!
O but this light,
how long 'twas let to burn!
The sun had sunk,
the day had fled;
but all their spite
not yet was sped;
the scaring signal
they set alight,
before my belov'd one's dwelling,
my swift approach repelling.
Isolda. Thy belov'd one's hand
lowered the light,
for Brangæna's fears
in me roused no fright:
while Love's goddess gave me aid
sunlight a mock I made.
But the light its fear
and defeat repaid;
with thy misdeeds
a league it made.
What thou didst see
in shadowing night,
to the shining sun
of kingly might
must thou straightway surrender,
that it should
exist in bright
bonds of empty splendor.—
Could I bear it then?
Can I bear it now?
Tris. 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 cut-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 rame,
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.)
Both. O night of rapture
rest upon us!
lift our lives
remembrance from us;
let us but
abide with thee:
from the world
oh set us free!
Extinguished in
the twilight's streaming
all our doubting,
all our dreaming,
all our mem'ries,
all our fancies:
sacred twilight's
soft advances
bid vain fears to cease,—
from the world release.
Hid our hearts away
sunlight's streaming,
bliss would bloom
from stars' tender beaming.
To thy enchantment
we surrender,
beneath thy gaze
so wondrous tender;
heart to heart
and lip to lip,
each the other's
breath we sip.
Blissful beams
our eyes are binding,
abashed is earth
with radiance blinding:
lit by the daylight's
dazzling lie,
undaunted by falsehoods
which we defy
thou'rt my world,
thine am I
Wondrous rapture weaving,
cherished visions achieving,
ne'er daunted
by daylight's beam
by our undying dream.
(Tristan and Isolda sink into oblivious ecstasy reposing on the flowery bank close together).
Brang. (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, belovéd!
Tris. Let me die thus!
Isolda (slowly raising herself a little). Envious watcher!
Tris. (remaining in reclining position). I'll ne'er waken.
Isolde. But the Day
must dawn and rouse thee?
Tris. (raising his head slightly). Let the Day
to Death surrender!
Isolda. Day and Death
will both engender
feud against
our passion tender.
Tris. (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!
Tris. Each the other's—
Isolda. Own for aye,—
Tris. Never fearing—
Isolda. Never waking—
Tris. Blest delights
of love partaking—
Isolda. Each to each be given;
in love alone our heaven.
(Isolda, (as if overcome, droops her head on his breast.)
Brangæna's Voice (as before).
Have a care!
Have a care!
Night yields to daylight's glare.
Tris. (bends smilingly to Isolda).
Shall I listen?
Isolda (looking fondly up at Tristan).
Let me die thus!
Tris. Must I waken?
Isolda. Nought shall wake me!
Tris. Must not daylight
dawn, and rouse me?
Isolda. Let the Day
to Death surrender!
Tris. May thus the Day's
evil threats be defied?
Isolda (with growing enthusiasm).
From its thraldom let us fly.
Tris. 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 spoke,
never broken,
newly sighted,
newly lighted,
endless ever
all our dream:
in our bosoms gleam
love delights supreme!
SCENE III.
[Brangæna utters a piercing cry. Tristan and Isolda remain in their absorbed state. Kurvenal rushes in with drawn sword.]
Kurv. Save yourself, Tristan!
(He looks fearfully off behind him. Mark, Melot and courtiers, in hunting dress, come swiftly up the avenue and pause in the foreground in consternation before the lovers. Brangæna at the same time descends from the roof and hastens towards Isolda. The latter in involuntary shame leans on the flowery bank with averted face. Tristan with an equally unconscious action stretches his mantle wide out with one arm, so as to conceal Isolda from the gaze of the new-comers. In this position he remains for some time, turning a changeless look upon the men, who gaze at him in varied emotion. The morning dawns.
Tris. The dready day—
its last time comes!
Melot (to Mark). Now say to me, my sov'reign,
was my impeachment just?
I staked my head thereon;
now is the pledge redeemed?
Behold him in
the very act:
honour 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 faithfullest of friends, too!
His offence
so black and base
fills my heart
with anguish and disgrace.
Tristan traitor,
what hope stayeth
that the honour
he betrayeth
should by Melot's rede
rest to me indeed?
Tris. (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 done,
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
he 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?
Tris. (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?
Tris. (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!
(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.)
Kurv. Save yourself, Tristan!
(He looks fearfully off behind him. Mark, Melot and courtiers, in hunting dress, come swiftly up the avenue and pause in the foreground in consternation before the lovers. Brangæna at the same time descends from the roof and hastens towards Isolda. The latter in involuntary shame leans on the flowery bank with averted face. Tristan with an equally unconscious action stretches his mantle wide out with one arm, so as to conceal Isolda from the gaze of the new-comers. In this position he remains for some time, turning a changeless look upon the men, who gaze at him in varied emotion. The morning dawns.
Tris. The dready day—
its last time comes!
Melot (to Mark). Now say to me, my sov'reign,
was my impeachment just?
I staked my head thereon;
now is the pledge redeemed?
Behold him in
the very act:
honour 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 faithfullest of friends, too!
His offence
so black and base
fills my heart
with anguish and disgrace.
Tristan traitor,
what hope stayeth
that the honour
he betrayeth
should by Melot's rede
rest to me indeed?
Tris. (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 done,
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
he 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?
Tris. (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?
Tris. (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!
(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.)