Tristan und Isolde (Wagner)/Act III


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.]Shep. Kurvenal, ho!—Say, Kurvenal,—tell me friend!Does he still sleep!Kurv. (turning a little towards him and shaking his head sadly). If he awokeit would bebut for evermore to leave us,unless we findthe lady-leech;alone can she give help.—See'st thou nought?No ship yet on the sea?Shep. Quite another dittythen would I playas merry as ever I may.But tell me truly,trusty friend,why languishes our lord?Kurv. Do not ask me;—for I can give no answer.Watch the sea,if sails come in sighta sprightly melody play.Shep. (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.)Tris. (motionless—faintly).The tune so well known—why wake to that?(opens his eyes and slightly turns his head.)Where am I?Kurv. (starting in joyous surprise.)Ha!—who is speaking?It is his voice!—Tristan! lov'd one!My lord! my Tristan!Tris. (with effort). Who—calls me?Kurv. Life—at last—O thanks be to heaven:—Sweetest lifeunto my Tristan newly given!Tris. (faintly). Kurvenal!—thou?Where—was I?—Where—am I?Kurv. Where art thou?In safety, tranquil and sure.Kareol 'tis:dost thou not knowthy fathers' halls?Tris. This my fathers'?Kurv. Look but around.Tris. What awoke me?Kurv. The herdsman's dittyhast thou heard, doubtless;he heedeth thy herdsabove on the hills there.Tris. Have I herds, then?Kurv. 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 oncethy goodness gaveto thy serfs and vassals here,when going far away,in foreign lands to dwell.Tris. What foreign land?Kurv. Why! in Cornwall;where cool and able,all that was brilliant,brave and noble,Tristan, my lord, lightly took.Tris. Am I in Cornwall?Kurv. No, no; in Kareol.Tris. How came I here?Kurv. Hey now! how you came?No horse hither you rode;a vessel bore you across.But on my shouldersdown to the shipyou 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 languishhere all shall end their anguish.(He presses himself to Tristan's breast.) Tris. Think'st thou thus!I know 'tis not so,but this I cannot tell thee.Where I awokene'er I was,but where I wanderedI can indeed not tell thee.The sun I could not see,nor paisage fair, nor people;but what I sawI can indeed not tell thee.It was— the land from which I once cameand whither I return:the endless realmof earthly night.One thing onlythere possessed me:blank, unending,all-oblivion.—How faded all forebodings!O wistful goadings!—Thus I callthe thoughts that allt'ward light of day have press'd me.What only yet doth rest me,the love-paints that possess'd me.from blissful death's affrightnow drive me toward the light,which, deceitful, bright and golden,round thee, Isolda, shines.Accurséd daywith cruel glow!Must thou everwake my woe?Must thy lightbe burning ever,e'en by nightour 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.)Kurv. (who has been deeply distressed, now quickly rouses himself from his dejection).I once defied,through faith in thee,the one for whomnow with thee I'm yearning.Trust in my words,thou soon shalt see herface to face.My tongue that comfort giveth,—if on the earth still she liveth.Tris. (very feebly). Yet burns the beacon's spark:yet is the house not dark,Isolda lives and wakes:her voice through darkness breaks.Kurv. 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 thousince the daywhen that accurséd Melotso foully wounded thee.Thy wound was heavy:how to heal it?Thy simple servantthere bethoughtthat she who onceclosed Morold's woundwith ease the hurt could heal thee.That Melot's sword did deal thee.I found the bestof leeches there,to Cornwall have Isent for her:a trusty serfsails o'er the sea,bringing Isold' to thee.Tris. (transported). Isolda comes!Isolda nears!(He struggles for words.)O friendship! highand 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 shieldin fight and strife;in weal or woethou'rt mine for life.Those whom I hatethou hatest too;those whom I lovethou lovest too.When good king MarkI followed of old,thou wert to him truer than gold.When I was flaseto my noble friend,to betray too thou didst descend.Thou art selfless,solely mine;thou feel'st for mewhen I suffer.but—what I suffer,thou canst not feel for me!this terrible yearning in my heart,this feverish burning'scruel smart,—did I but show it,couldst thou but know it,no time here wouldst thou tarry,to watch from tow'r thou wouldst hurrywith all devotionviewing the ocean,with eyes impatiently spying,there, where her ship's sails are dying.Before the wind shedrives 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 Kurvenal hesitates to leave Tristan, who is gazing at him in mute expectation, the mournful tone of the shepherd is heard, as before).Kurv. (dejectedly). Still is no ship in sight.Tris. (has listened with waning excitement and now recommences with growing melancholy.)Is this the meaning then,thou old pathetic dittyof all thy sighing sound?—On evening's breezeit sadly rangwhen, as a child,my father's death-news chill'd me:through morning's mistit stole more sadly, when the sonhis mother's fate was taught,when they who gave me breathboth felt the hand of deathto them came alsothrough their painthe ancient's ditty'syearning strain,which asked me onceand asks me nowwhich was the fate before meto which my mother bore me?—What was the fate?—The strain so plaintivenow repeats it:—for yearning—and dying!(He falls back senseless.) Kurv. (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 rewardhis 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.Tris. (very faintly). The ship—is't yet in sight?Kurv. The ship? Be sure'twill come to-day:it cannot tarry longer.Tris. On board Isolda,—see, she smiles—with the cupthat reconciles.Dost thou see?Dost thou see her now?Full of graceand loving mildness,floating o'erthe ocean's wildness?By billows of flowerslightly lifted,gently towardthe land she's drifted.Her look brings easeand sweet repose;her hand one lastrelief bestows.Isolda? Ah, Isolda!How fair, how sweet art thou!—And Kurvenal, why!—what ails thy sight?Away, and watch for her,foolish wight.What 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.)Kurv. (springing joyous up).O rapture! Transport!(He rushes to the watch-tower and looks out.)Ha! the ship!From northward it is nearing.Tris. 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 holdsIsolda for me?Kurv. (shouting). Ahoy! Ahoy!See her bravely tacking!How full the canvas is filled!How she darts! how she flies!Tris. The pennon? the pennon?Kurv. A flag is floating at mast-head,joyous and bright.Tris. Aha! what joy!Now through the daylightcomes my Isolda.Isolda, oh come!See'st thou herself?Kurv. The ship is shutfrom me by rocks.Tris. Behind the reef?Is there not risk!Those dangerous breakersships have oft shattered.—Who steereth the helm?Kurv. The steadiest seaman.Tris. Betrays he me?Is he Melot's ally?Kurv. Trust him like me.Tris. A traitor thou, too!—O caitiff!Canst thou not see her?Kurv. Not yet.Tris. Destruction!Kurv. Aha! Halla-halloa!They clear! they clear!Safely they clear!Inside the surfsteers now the ship to the strand.Tris. (shouting in joy). Hallo-ho! Kurvenal!Trustiest friend!All the wealth I ownto-day I bequeath to thee.Kurv. With speed thee approach.Tris. Now dost thou see her?See'st thou Isolda?Kurv. 'Tis she! she waves!Tris. O woman divine!Kuv. The ship is a-land!Isolda!—ha!—With but one leaplightly she springs to land!Tris. Descend from the watch-tow'r,idolent gazer!Away! awayto the shore!Help her! help my belov'd! Kurv. In a trice she shall come;Trust in my strong arm!But thou, Tristan,hold thee tranquilly here!(He hastens off.) Tris. (tossing on his couch in feverish excitement).O sunlight glowing,glorious ray!Ah, joy-bestowingradiant day!Boundeth my blood,boisterous flood!Infinite 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!Merrilly flows it.(He springs from his bed and staggers forward.) She who can helpmy wound and close it,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!Tris. (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!Tris. (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 mesuch 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 re-entered close behind Isolda has remained by the entrance speechless and petrified, gazing mationless 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 toe 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?Kurv. With foes do you come?Woe to you, false one!Melot's voice (without). Stand back, thou fool!Bar not the way!Kurv. (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.

(He dies.)Melot. Woe's me!—Tristan!Brang. (still without). Kurvenal! Madman!O hear—thou mistakest!(To his men.)Kurv. Treacherous maid!Come! Follow me!(They fight.)Force them below!Mark. (without). Hold, thou frantic man!Lost are thy senses?Kurv. 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!Brang. (has climbed over the wall at the side and hastens to 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?Kurv. (desperately wounded, totters before Mark to the front.)He lieth—there—here, where I lies too.—(Sinks down at Tristan's feet.) Mark. Tristan! Tristan!Isolda! Woe!Kurv. (trying to grasp Tristan's hand.)Tristan! true lord!Chide me not(He dies.)that I try to follow thee!Mark. Death 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 theenobly 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 makemore 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 radiantsteeeped 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 rushes trumpet tonethat round me gushes.Brighter growing,o'er me flowing,are these breezesairy pillows?Are they balmy,beauteous 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!(Isolde 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.)