ews 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!