Tristan und Isolde

Front matter

Tristan und Isolde

OPERA IN THREE ACTS

BY

Argument

ARGUMENT.

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, Brangæna, changes the draught 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 suffer 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

DRAMATIS PERSONÆ.

TRISTAN. | MELOT.

KING MARK. | BRANGÆNA.

ISOLDA. | A SHEPHERD.

KURVENAL. | A STEERSMAN.

Sailors, Knights and Esquires.

Act I

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 bellow into the cabin.]

SCENE I.

Isolda on a couch, her face buried in the cushions.—Brangæna 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). Westward surges slip, eastward speeds the ship. The wind so wild blows homeward now; my Irish child, where waitest thou? Say, must our sails be weighed, Filled by thy sighs unbated? Waft us, wind strong and wild! Woe, ah woe for my child! O Irish maid! my winsome, marvellous maid! Isolda starting up suddenly. What wight dares insult me? <> (she looks round in agitation). Brangæna, ho! Say, where sail we? Brangæna (at the opening). Blueish sripes 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? Brangæna Cornwall's verdant strand. Isolda. Never more! To-day nor to-morrow! Brangæna. 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. Brangæna (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 gaves; 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! <> (Brangæna 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 Kurneval reclines carelessly. From the mast-head above is once more head 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 on yon minion? Brangæna (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? Brangæna. 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 'twards 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. Brangæna. 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 Brangæna 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.]

Kurneval (observing Brangæna's approach, plucks Tristan by the robe without rising.) Begare, Tristan! Message from Isolda! Tristan (starting). What is't?—Isolda?— <> [He quickly regains his composure as Brangæna approaches and curtsies to him.] What would my lady? I her liegeman, fain will listen while her loyal woman tells her will. Brangæna. 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. Brangæna. 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. Brangæna. 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? Brangæna. 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. Thus 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 Brangæna turns to depart, Kurneval sings after her at the top of his voice, as she lingeringly withdraws.]

"Sir Morold toiled o'er mighty wave his 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. Brangæna 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 Brangæna alone, the curtain being again completely closed. Isolda rises with a gesture of despair and wrath. Brangæna falls at her feet.]

Brangæna. 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. Brangæna. Ah! question not! Isolda. Quick, say without fear! Brangæna. With courteous phrase he foiled my will. Isolda. But when you bade him hither? Brangæna. 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! Brangæna. 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 din; with the sword in hand I came to him. Full well I wished 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. Brangæna. 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! Brangæna (throwing herself upon Isolde 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 Corvwall'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? Brangæna. 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 mothers' 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. Brangæna. 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 out 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.) Brangæna (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 vhe Crew (without). "Ho! heave ho! hey! Reduce the sail! The mainsail in! Ho! heave ho! hey!" Isolda. Our journey has been swift. Woe's me! Near to the land!

SCENE IV.

(Kurvenal boisterously enters through the curtains.)

Kurvenal. Up, up, ye ladies! Look alert! Straight bestir yoy! 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 foregiveness and forgetfulness, which 'tis seemly he should seek:— for all his trespass base I tender him my grace. Kurv. Be assured, I'll bear your words: we'll see what he will say. >>> (He exits quickly.)

Scene V.

Isolda (hurries to Brangæna and embraces her vehemently.) Now farewell, Brangæne. Greet ev'ry one, Greet my father and mother! Brang. What now? What mean'st thou? Wouldst thou flee? And where must I then follow? Isolda (checking herself suddenly) Here 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. Brang. What meanest thou? Isolda (taking a bottle from the coffer). This it is! From the flask go pour this philtre out; you golden goblet 'twill fill. Brang. (filled with terror, receiving the flask). Trust I my wits? Isolda. Wilt thoa be true? Brang. The draught—for whom? Isolda. Him who betrayed! Brang. Tristan? Isolda Truce he'll drink with me. Brang. (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. Brang. (scarcely able to control herself). O deepest grief! Isolda. Now wilt thou obey? Brang. O woe supreme! Isolda. Wilt thou be true? Brang. The draught Kurv. (entering) Sir Tristan! <> (Brangæra rises, terrified and confused. Isolda strives with immense effort to control herself.) Isolda (to Kurvenal). Sir Tristan may approach.

SCENE VI.

[Kurvenal retires again. Brangæna, 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.)

Tris. Demand, lady what you will. Isolda. While knowing not what my demand is, wert thou afraid still to fulfil it, fleeing my presence thus? Tris. Honor Held me in awe. Isolda. Scant honor hast thou shown unto me; for, unabashed, withheldest thou obedience unto my call. Tris. Obedience 'twas forbade me to come. Isolda. But little I owe thy lord, methinks if he allows ill manners unto his own promised bride. Tris. In our land it is the law that he who fetches home the bride should stay afar from her. Isolda. On what account? Tris. '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. Tris. Who is my foe? Isolda. Find in thy fears Blood-guilt gets between us. Tris. That was absolved. Isolda. Not between us. Tris. In open field, 'fore all the folk our old feud was abandoned. Isolda. 'T was 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. Trist. What hast thou sworn? Isolda (quickly). Vengeance for Morold! Trist. (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 I fought. When he was murdered no honour 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? Trist. (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 rancour my bosom wrung, when thy masterful eyes did ask me straight whether King Mark might seek me for mate. The sword harmless decended— Drink, let our strife be ended! <> (Isolda beckons Brangæna. She trembles and hesitates to obey. Isolda commands her with a more imperious gesture. Brangæna sets about preparing the drink). Voices of the Crew (without). Ho! heave ho! hey! Reduce the sail! The foresail in! Ho! heave ho! hey! Trist. (starting from his gloomy brooding). Where are we? Isolda. Near to shore. Tristan, is warfare ended? Hast not a word to offer? Trist. (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 Brangæna hands her the filled cup). Isolda (advancing with the cup to Tristan, who gazed 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! Tris. (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 too 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 sup 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! Tris. (overpowered). Isolda! Isolda (sinking upon his breast). Traitor beloved! Tris. Woman divine! <> (He embraces her with ardor. They remain in a silent embrace.) All the Men (without). Hail! Hail! Hail to our monarch! Hail to Mark, the king! Brang. (who, filled with confusion and horror, has leaned over the side with averted face, now turns to behold the pair locked in their locked 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.)

Tris. (bewildered). What droubled dream of Tristan's honor? Isolda. What troubled dream Of Isolda's shame? Tris. Have I then lost thee? Isolda. Have I repulsed thee? Tris. Fraudulent magic, framing deceit? Both. Languishing passion, longing and growing, love ever yearning, loftiest glowing! Rapture confess'd rides in each breast! Tristan! Isolda! Isolda! Tristan! 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.]

Brang. (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! Kurv. (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. Tris. (looking up in bewilderment). Who comes? Kurv. The king 'tis. Tris. 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 Brangæna? What are those cries? Brang. Isolda—mistress! Compose thyself! Isolda Where am I? living? What was that draught? Brang. (despairingly). The love-potion! Isolda (staring with horror at Tristan). Tristan! Tris. Isolda! Isolda. Must I live, then? >>> (falls fainting upon his breast). Brang. (to the women). Look to your lady! Tris. O rapture fraught with cunning! O fraud with bliss o'er-running! All the Men (in a general bust 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 arrive of the expected ones, as the curtain falls.]

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!

[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.]