Read Ebook: Tristan and Isolda: Opera in Three Acts by Wagner Richard

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Ebook has 328 lines and 10662 words, and 7 pages

TRISTAN. What wouldst thou wish to reply?

KURVENAL. This 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."

"Sir Morold toiled o'er mighty wave the 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!"

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!"

BRANGAENA. Ah! an answer so insulting!

ISOLDA . How now? of Tristan? I'd know if he denies me.

BRANGAENA. Ah! question not!

ISOLDA. Quick, say without fear!

BRANGAENA. With courteous phrase he foiled my will.

ISOLDA. But when you bade him hither?

BRANGAENA. 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 . "How could he pilot the ship in surety to King Mark!" And wait on him with were-gild from Ireland's island won!

BRANGAENA. 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 dim; with the sword in hand I came to him. Full well I willed 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.

BRANGAENA. 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!

BRANGAENA . Isolda! lady! loved one! fairest! sweet perfection! mistress rarest! Hear me! come now, sit thee here.--

What a whim! what causeless railing! How came you so wrong-minded and by mere fancy blinded? Sir Tristan gives thee Cornwall'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.

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 . Glorious knight! And I must near him loveless ever languish! How can I support such anguish?

BRANGAENA. What's this, my lady? loveless thou?

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.--

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 . 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.--

Thy mother placed inside it her subtle magic potions. There's salve for sickness or for wounds, and antidotes for deadly drugs.--

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.

BRANGAENA . The draught of death!

VOICES OF THE CREW . "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!

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! 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 . 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.

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 forgiveness and forgetfulness, which 'tis seemly he should seek:-- for all his trespass base I tender him my grace.

KURVENAL. Be assured, I'll bear your words: we'll see what he will say!

ISOLDA . Now farewell, Brangaena! Greet ev'ry one, Greet my father and mother!

BRANGAENA. What now? what mean'st thou? Wouldst thou flee? And where must I then follow?

ISOLDA . Here I 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.

BRANGAENA. What meanest thou?

ISOLDA . This it is! From the flask go pour this philtre out; yon golden goblet 'twill fill.

BRANGAENA . Trust I my wits?

ISOLDA. Wilt thou be true?

BRANGAENA. The draught--for whom?

ISOLDA. Him who betrayed!

BRANGAENA. Tristan?

ISOLDA. Truce he'll drink with me.

BRANGAENA . 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!

BRANGAENA . O deepest grief!

ISOLDA. Now, wilt thou obey?

BRANGAENA. O woe supreme!

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