Chapter 17

[_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_.]

SHEPHERD. Kurvenal, ho!-- Say, Kurvenal,-- tell me, friend! Does he still sleep?

KURVENAL (_turning a little towards him and shaking his head sadly_). If he awoke it would be but for evermore to leave us, unless we find the lady-leech; alone can she give help.-- See'st thou nought? No ship yet on the sea?

SHEPHERD. Quite another ditty then would I play as merry as ever I may. But tell me truly, trusty friend, why languishes our lord?

KURVENAL. Do not ask me;-- for I can give no answer. Watch the sea, if sails come in sight a sprightly melody play.

SHEPHERD (_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_.)

TRISTAN (_motionless--faintly_). The tune so well known-- why wake to that?

(_opens his eyes and slightly turns his head_).

Where am I?

KURVENAL (_starting in joyous surprise_). Ha!--who is speaking? It is his voice!-- Tristan! lov'd one! My lord! my Tristan!

TRISTAN (_with effort_). Who--calls me?

KURVENAL. Life--at last-- O thanks be to heaven!-- sweetest life unto my Tristan newly given!

TRISTAN (_faintly_). Kurvenal!--thou? Where--was I?-- Where--am I?

KURVENAL. Where art thou? In safety, tranquil and sure! Kareol 'tis; dost thou not know thy fathers' halls?

TRISTAN. This my fathers'?

KURVENAL. Look but around.

TRISTAN. What awoke me?

KURVENAL. The herdsman's ditty hast thou heard, doubtless; he heedeth thy herds above on the hills there.

TRISTAN. Have I herds, then?

KURVENAL. 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 once thy goodness gave to thy serfs and vassals here, when going far away, in foreign lands to dwell.

TRISTAN. What foreign land?

KURVENAL. Why! in Cornwall; where cool and able, all that was brilliant, brave and noble, Tristan, my lord, lightly took.

TRISTAN. Am I in Cornwall?

KURVENAL. No, no; in Kareol.

TRISTAN. How came I here?

KURVENAL. Hey now! how you came? No horse hither you rode: a vessel bore you across. But on my shoulders down to the ship you 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 languish here all shall end their anguish.

(_He presses himself to_ TRISTAN'S _breast_.)

TRISTAN. Think'st thou thus! I know 'tis not so, but this I cannot tell thee. Where I awoke ne'er I was, but where I wandered I can indeed not tell thee. The sun I could not see, nor country fair, nor people; but what I saw I can indeed not tell thee. It was-- the land from which I once came and whither I return: the endless realm of earthly night. One thing only there possessed me: blank, unending, all-oblivion.-- How faded all forebodings! O wistful goadings!-- Thus I call the thoughts that all t'ward light of day have press'd me. What only yet doth rest me, the love-pains that possess'd me, from blissful death's affright now drive me toward the light, which, deceitful, bright and golden, round thee, Isolda, shines. Accurséd day with cruel glow! Must thou ever wake my woe? Must thy light be burning ever, e'en by night our 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_.)

KURVENAL (_who has been deeply distressed, now quickly rousts himself from his dejection_). I once defied, through faith in thee, the one for whom now with thee I'm yearning. Trust in my words, thou soon shalt see her face to face. My tongue that comfort giveth,-- if on the earth still she liveth.

TRISTAN (_very feebly_). Yet burns the beacon's spark: yet is the house not dark, Isolda lives and wakes: her voice through darkness breaks.

KURVENAL. 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 thou since the day when that accursed Melot so foully wounded thee. Thy wound was heavy: how to heal it? Thy simple servant there bethought that she who once closed Morold's wound with ease the hurt could heal thee that Melot's sword did deal thee. 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!

(_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 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 leave_ TRISTAN, _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 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 reward his 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.

TRISTAN (_very faintly_). The ship--is't yet in sight?

KURVENAL. The ship? Be sure t'will come to-day: it cannot tarry longer.

TRISTAN. On board Isolda,-- see, she smiles-- with the cup that reconciles. Dost thou see? Dost thou see her now? Full of grace and loving mildness, floating o'er the ocean's wildness? By billows of flowers lightly lifted, gently toward the land she's drifted. Her look brings ease and sweet repose; her hand one last relief bestows. Isolda! Ah, Isolda! How fair, how sweet art thou!-- And Kurvenal, why!-- what ails thy sight? Away, and watch for her, foolish 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_.)

KURVENAL (_springing joyously up_). O rapture! Transport!

(_He rushes to the watch-tower and looks out_.)

Ha! the ship! From northward it is nearing.

TRISTAN. 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 holds Isolda for me?

KURVENAL (_shouting_). Ahoy! Ahoy! See her bravely tacking! How full the canvas is filled! How she darts! how she flies!

TRISTAN. The pennon? the pennon?

KURVENAL. A flag is floating at mast-head, joyous and bright.

TRISTAN. Aha! what joy! Now through the daylight comes my Isolda. Isolda, oh come! See'st thou herself?

KURVENAL. The ship is shut from me by rocks.

TRISTAN. Behind the reef? Is there not risk! Those dangerous breakers ships have oft shattered.-- Who steereth the helm?

KURVENAL. The steadiest seaman.

TRISTAN. Betrays he me? Is he Melot's ally?

KURVENAL. Trust him like me.

TRISTAN. A traitor thou, too!-- O caitiff! Canst thou not see her?

KURVENAL. Not yet.

TRISTAN. Destruction!

KURVENAL. Aha! Halla-halloa I they clear! they clear! Safely they clear! Inside the surf steers now the ship to the strand.

TRISTAN (_shouting in joy_). Hallo-ho! Kurvenal! Trustiest friend! All the wealth I own to-day I bequeath thee.

KURVENAL. With speed they approach.

TRISTAN. Now dost thou see her? See'st thou Isolda?

KURVENAL. 'Tis she! she waves!

TRISTAN. O woman divine!

KURVENAL. The ship is a-land! Isolda.'--ha!-- With but one leap lightly she springs to land!

TRISTAN. Descend from the watch-tow'r, indolent gazer! Away! away to the shore! Help her! help my belov'd!

KURVENAL. In a trice she shall come; Trust in my strong arm! But thou, Tristan, hold thee tranquilly here!

(_He hastens off_.)

TRISTAN (_tossing on his couch in feverish excitement_). O sunlight glowing, glorious ray! Ah, joy-bestowing radiant day! Boundeth my blood, boisterous flood! Infinite gladness! Rapturous madness! Can I bear to lie couched here in quiet? Away, let me fly to where hearts run riot! Tristan the brave, exulting in strength, has torn himself from death at length.

(_He raises himself erect_.)

All wounded and bleeding Sir Morold I defeated; all bleeding and wounded Isolda now shall be greeted.

(_He tears the bandage from his wound_.)

Ha, ha, my blood! Merrily flows it.

(_He springs from his bed and staggers forward_.)

She who can help my wound and close it, she comes in her pride, 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!

TRISTAN (_in frantic excitement_). What! hails me the light? The torchlight--ha!-- The torch is extinct! I come! I come!