obeys,
life and death
she holds in her hands,
which of joy and woe are wove?
she worketh hate into love.
The work of death
I took into my own hands;
Love's goddess saw
and gave her good commands
The death--condemned
she claimed as her prey,
planning our fate
in her own way.
How she may bend it,
how she may end it,
what she may make me,
wheresoe'er take me,
still hers am I solely;--
so let me obey her wholly.

BRANGAENA. And if by the artful
love-potion's lures
thy light of reason is ravished,
if thou art reckless
when I would warn thee,
this once, oh, wait
and weigh my pleading!
I implore, leave it alight!--
The torch! the torch!
O put it not out this night!

ISOLDA. She who causes thus
my bosom's throes,
whose eager fire
within me glows,
whose light upon
my spirit flows,
Love's goddess needs
that night should close;
that brightly she may reign
and shun the torchlight vain.

(_She goes up to the door and takes down the torch_.)

Go watch without--
keep wary guard!
The signal!--
and were it my spirit's spark,
smiling
I'd destroy it and hail the dark!

[_She throws the torch to the ground where it slowly dies out.
BRANGAENA turns away, disturbed, and mounts an outer flight of steps
leading to the roof, where she slowly disappears. ISOLDA listens and
peers, at first shyly, towards an avenue. Urged, by rising impatience,
she then approaches the avenue and looks more boldly. She signs with
her handkerchief, first slightly, then more plainly, waving it quicker
as her impatience increases. A gesture of sudden delight shows that
she has perceived her lover in the distance. She stretches herself
higher and higher, and then, to look better over the intervening
space, hastens back to the steps, from the top of which she signals
again to the on-comer. As he enters, she springs to meet him_.]

SCENE II.

TRISTAN (_rushing in_). Isolda! Beloved!

ISOLDA. Tristan! Beloved one!

(_Passionate embrace, with which they come down to the front_.)

BOTH. Art thou mine?
Do I behold thee?
Do I embrace thee?
Can I believe it?
At last! At last!
Here on my breast!
Do I then clasp thee!
Is it thy own self?
Are these thine eyes?
These thy lips?
Here thy hand?
Here thy heart?
Is't I?--Is't thou,
held in my arms?
Am I not duped?
Is it no dream?
O rapture of spirit!
O sweetest, highest,
fairest, strongest,
holiest bliss?
Endless pleasure!
Boundless treasure!
Ne'er to sever!
Never! Never!
Unc