Tristan and Isolda

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.

(ISOLDAturns 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?

BRANGAENA.

What's this, my lady?

loveless thou?

(Approaching coaxingly and kissingISOLDA.)

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 toISOLDA.)

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 mother's 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.

BRANGAENA.

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 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.)

BRANGAENA (recoiling in horror).

The draught of death!

(ISOLDAhas risen from the sofa and now hears with increasing dread

the cries of the sailors.)

VOICES OF THE CREW (without).

'Ho! heave ho! hey!

Reduce the sail!

The mainsail in!

Ho! heave ho! hey!'

ISOLDA.

Our journey has been swift.

Woe is me! Near to the land!

SCENE IV.

(KURVENALboisterously enters through the curtains.)

KURVENAL.

Up, up, ye ladies!

Look alert!

Straight bestir you!

Loiter not,-here is the land!-

To dame Isolda

says the servant

of Tristan,

our hero true:-

Behold our flag is flying!