Tristan and Isolda

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!

(DrawsKURVENALto 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 leaveTRISTAN, 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 calmTRISTAN, cries

out in terror).

My master! Tristan!-

Frightful enchantment!-

O love's deceit!