Act 3 — SCENE IV.
Reading edition
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 not that I try to follow thee! (He dies.)
MARK. Dead together!— All are dead! My hero Tristan! truest of friends, must thou again be to thy king a traitor? Now, when he comes another 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 joy I have to tell thee: O list to thy Brangæna! My thoughtless fault I have atoned; after thy flight I forthwith went to the king: the love potion's secret he scarce had learned when with sedulous haste he put to sea, that he might find thee, nobly renounce thee and give thee up to thy love.
MARK. O why, Isolda, Why this to me? When clearly was disclosed what before I could fathom not, what joy was mine to find my friend was free from fault! In haste to wed thee to my hero with flying sails I followed thy track: but howe'er can happiness o'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 softly he is smiling; how his eyelids sweetly open! See, oh comrades, see you not how he beameth ever brighter— how he rises ever radiant steeped in starlight, borne above? See you not how his heart with lion zest, calmly happy beats in his breast? From his lips in heavenly rest sweetest breath he softly sends. Harken, friends! Hear and feel ye not? Is it I alone am hearing strains so tender and endearing? Passion swelling, all things telling, gently bounding, from him sounding, in me pushes, upward rushes trumpet tone that round me gushes. Brighter growing, o'er me flowing, are these breezes airy pillows? Are they balmy beauteous billows? How they rise and gleam and glisten! Shall I breathe them? Shall I listen? Shall I sip them, dive within them, to my panting breathing win them? In the breezes around, in the harmony sound in the world's driving whirlwind 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.)