SCENE IV
MELOT. Woe's me!—Tristan! (He dies.)
BRANGÆNA (still without).Kurvenal! Madman!O hear—thou mistakest!
KURVENAL. Treacherous maid! (To his men.)Come! Follow me!Force them below! (They fight.)
MARK (without). Hold, thou frantic man!Lost are thy senses?
KURVENAL. Here ravages Death!Nought else, O king,is here to be holden!If you would earn it, come on!
(He sets upon MARK and his followers.)
MARK. Away, rash maniac!
BRANGÆNA (has climbed over the wall at the side and hastens in the front).
ISOLDA! lady!Joy and life!—What sight's here—ha!Liv'st thou, Isolda! (She goes to ISOLDA'S aid.)
MARK (who with his followers has driven KURVENAL and his men back from the gate and forced his way in).O wild mistake! Tristan, where art thou?
KURVENAL (desperately wounded, totters before MARK to the front).He lieth—there—here, where I lie too.—
(Sinks down at TRISTAN'S feet.)
MARK. Tristan! Tristan!Isolda! Woe!
KURVENAL (trying to grasp TRISTAN'S hand).Tristan! true lord!Chide me notthat I try to follow thee! (He dies.)
MARK. Dead together!—All are dead!My hero Tristan!truest of friends,must thou againbe to thy king a traitor?Now, when he comesanother proof of love to give thee!Awaken! awaken.O hear my lamentation,thou faithless, faithful friend!
(Kneels down sobbing over the bodies.)
BRANGÆNA (who has revived ISOLDA in her arms).She wakes! she lives!Isolda, hear!Hear me, mistress beloved!Tidings of joyI have to tell thee:O list to thy Brangæna!My thoughtless fault I have atoned;after thy flightI forthwith went to the king:the love potion's secrethe scarce had learnedwhen with sedulous hastehe put to sea,that he might find thee,nobly renounce theeand give thee up to thy love.
MARK. O why, Isolda,Why this to me?When clearly was disclosedwhat before I could fathom not,what joy was mine to findmy friend was free from fault!In haste to wedthee to my herowith flying sailsI followed thy track:but howe'er canhappinesso'ertake the swift course of woe?More food for Death did I make:more wrong grew in mistake.
BRANGÆNA. Dost thou not hear?Isolda! Lady!O try to believe the truth!
ISOLDA (unconscious of all around her, turning her eyes with, rising inspiration on TRISTAN'S body).Mild and softlyhe is smiling;how his eyelids sweetly open!See, oh comrades,see you nothow he beamethever brighter—how he risesever radiantsteeped in starlight,borne above?See you nothow his heartwith lion zest,calmly happybeats in his breast?From his lipsin heavenly restsweetest breathhe softly sends.Harken, friends!Hear and feel ye not?Is it Ialone am hearingstrains so tenderand endearing?Passion swelling,all things telling,gently bounding,from him sounding,in me pushes,upward rushestrumpet tonethat round me gushes.Brighter growing,o'er me flowing,are these breezesairy pillows?Are they balmybeauteous billows?How they riseand gleam and glisten!Shall I breathe them?Shall I listen?Shall I sip them,dive within them,to my pantingbreathing win them?In the breezes around,in the harmony soundin the world's drivingwhirlwind be drown'd—and, sinking,be drinking—in a kiss,highest bliss!
(ISOLDA sinks, as if transfigured, in BRANGÆNA'S arms upon TRISTAN'S body. Profound emotion and grief of the bystanders. MARK invokes a blessing on the dead. Curtain.)
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