nward_.]

KURVENAL (_observing Brangaena's approach, plucks Tristan by the robe
without rising_.) Beware, Tristan!
Message from Isolda!

TRISTAN (_starting_). What is't?--Isolda?--

(_He quickly regains his composure as BRANGAENA approaches and
curtsies to him_.)

What would my lady?
I her liegeman,
fain will listen
while her loyal
woman tells her will.

BRANGAENA. My lord, Sir Tristan,
Dame Isolda
would have speech
with you at once.

TRISTAN. Is she with travel worn?
The end is near:
nay, ere the set of sun
sight we the land.
All that your mistress commands me,
trust me, I shall mind.

BRANGAENA. That you, Sir Tristan,
go to her,--
this is my lady's wish.

TRISTAN. Where yonder verdant meadows
in distance dim are mounting,
waits my sov'reign
for his mate:
to lead her to his presence
I'll wait upon the princess:
'tis an honor
all my own.

BRANGAENA. My lord, Sir Tristan,
list to me:
this one thing
my lady wills,
that thou at once attend her,
there where she waits for thee.

TRISTAN. In any station
where I stand
I truly serve but her,
the pearl of womanhood.
If I unheeding
left the helm,
how might I pilot her ship
in surety to King Mark?

BRANGAENA. Tristan, my master,
why mock me thus?
Seemeth my saying
obscure to you?
list to my lady's words:
thus, look you, she hath spoken:
"Go order him,
and understand it,
I--Isolda--
do command it."

KURVENAL (_springing up_). May I an answer make her?

TRISTAN. What wouldst thou wish to reply?

KURVENAL. This should she say
to Dame Isold':
"Though Cornwall's crown
and England's isle
for Ireland's child he chose,
his own by choice
she may not be;
he brings the king his bride.
A hero-knight
Tristan is hight!
I've said, nor care to measure
your lady's high displeasure."

[_While_ TRISTAN _seeks to stop him, and the offended_
BRANGAENA _turns to depart_, KURVENAL _sings after her at the
top of his voice, as she lingeringly withdraws_.]

"Sir Morold toiled
o'er mighty wave
the Cornish tax to levy;
In desert isle
was dug his grave,
he died of wounds so heavy.
His head now hangs
in Irish lands,
Sole were-gild won
at English hands.
Bravo, our brave Tristan!
Let his tax take who can!"

[KURVENAL, _driven away by_ TRISTAN'S _chidings, descends into
the cabin_. BRANGAENA _returns in discomposure to_ ISOLDA,
_closing the curtains behind her, while all the men take up the
chorus and are heard without_.]

KNIGHTS AND ATTENDAN