University of Virginia Library

Scene II

A glade in the woods. Kurvenal's hut, L., a great stag's antlers fixed over the door. Before it is an open space with heather in bloom. From the door a path leads through the heather into the wood at the back of the stage R. R. C., under tall bracken which stretches away into the woods beyond, lies a felled oak-log, and behind it in the bracken stand some young oak-trees. Another path from the door of the hut passes in front of the felled tree, and leads out into the woods R. The backcloth shows an oak-wood with undergrowth of bracken and holly. It is early autumn, the bracken is just beginning to turn. Moonlight from R. illumines the front of the stage and Kurvenal's hut, the back and R. of the stage being in shadow. A high wind is heard in the trees.
Enter from the hut, Kurvenal. He looks anxiously round and sees Caradoc who enters R. upper entrance.
Kur.

Ho, Caradoc!

Cara.

It will be just me.

Kur.

The horses are saddled these two hours or more;
and yet they do not come. What a night!

Cara.

And it will be wilder yet, for the autumn gales
are upon us.

[Horns heard in the distance.
Kur.
There goes the hunt. Will they pass this way?

[Listens.
Cara.
May be ay, may be no.

[After a pause the horns are heard more faintly.
Kur.
No, they are taking the way by the wolf's glen.
Well, this is a mad business. How's the sea?

Cara.
O, ay, the sea—I was just—

[He slowly sits down on the log R. C.
Kur.
[Listens again.]
Hark! someone comes.
[Goes up stage with his sword drawn.
Enter Tristram from behind the hut.
Sir Tristram!

Tris.
Ho, Kurvenal! Has she come?

Kur.
Not yet.

[They gradually come down stage as they talk.
Tris.

Not here? It grows late and time presses. Where
is my page?

Kur.

At watch in the woods. Did you think to go
aboard to-night?

Tris.

Aboard? To sea, to sea!

Kur.

Then the Lord have mercy on our souls! If we
needs must go to sea, let us take our swords in our
teeth, and swim for it at once.

Tris.

Is it so bad?

[Caradoc approaches
Kur.

Here comes our old sea-dog. Ask him what he
has seen.

Tris.

Well, friend, what news? How looks the sea?

Cara.
[Taking off his red cap and fumbling with it as he speaks.]

Oh, the sea! I was just coming from our
skipper to tell your honour how it looks. Oh, master,

but it looks bad enough—bad enough it looks.
Oh ay!

Tris.

What, there's a sea on?

Cara.

A sea, master? Oh, ay, there's a sea on to
frighten a mermaid or a bull seal.

Kur.

What did I tell you?

Tris.
[Makes an impatient gesture.]

And the ship, the
ship?

Cara.

Oh ay, the ship—that's what I came to tell
your honour. She began to drag her anchors, and the
skipper he ran her ashore and beached her.

Tris.

The ship ashore! No putting to sea to-night, then,
with treble pay for all hands?

Cara.

Put to sea is it? A right whale could get no
offing such a night as this. No, nor for a week's time
if this blows its bellyful. There are things crying in
this gale, bless you, that—Oh, ay!

Tris.

What things?

Cara.

Drownded souls, maybe, or maybe worser things.
Voices and prophesyings they have, for the ears that
can hear them.

Tris.

Where are the men?

Cara.

Safely housed, master, in the boat-house, asleep
or spinning yarns over a driftwood fire. There are
things to be seen in a fire of wreck timber, master,
eerie things—oh, ay! I saw a bloody sword in the
flames to-night.

Kur.

Well, I have seen many a bloody sword in my
day; but not in a driftwood fire.

Tris.
[To Cara.]

Go forage in the hut for some food,
and a draught of good mead.

Cara.
[Aside to Kurvenal, as he goes to the hut.]

The
shroud at his breast already. It mounts apace, oh, ay!

[Exit into the hut.
Tris.
How the lone moon fights with the scudding rack!
'Tis a wild night; the wind leagued with the sea,
The sea with the rude rocks, and all with fate.

Kur.
Where did you leave the hunt?

[The moon is obscured.
Tris.
In the Wolf's Glen.
This gathering darkness chills like heaven's own frown.
Not come! What subtle treachery of the woods
Stays her entangled feet? The wings of night
Beat slow with leaden languor, like the pulse
Of a man dying, every weary throb
Counted upon my heart. What unseen eye
Is fixed on me with furtive malison?

Kur.
No more sick fancies! I'll go watch.
[He retires up-stage, looks round and again comes down.
The queen!

Enter by the path R., Isolt of Ireland. As she approaches Tristram, the moon shines out.
Tris.
Isolt! At last!

[Kurvenal retires and keeps watch.
Is. of I.
O night, sweet secret night,
Seal treachery's eyes!
[They embrace passionately.
Free, free, and in thine arms!

Tris.
Thou dost renew the world, and budding spring
Invades again sere autumn's fated realm.
Yon trees, that loomed but now like spectral foes
Ambush'd in darkness, bend their guardian heads
Through the enchanted gloom, where glows thy face,
To keep love nested in sweet solitude.

Is. of I.
Come life, come death, I give myself to thee,
My rest, my home—sole haven of my heart!

Tris.
Come life, come death, I pledge myself thy love,
Whelmed in the bliss of one adoring thought.
Thou art the eternal bride my being claims.

Is. of I.
Thou art my life and I am lost in thee.

Tris.
Heart to heart, spirit to spirit, two mingling flames!

Is. of I.
One life, one love, one pulse, one ecstasy!

[Symphony.
[Tristram releasing her—they move apart. A pause —Isolt looks round her.
Is. of I.
O blissful night!
As through the woods I came, the forest balm
Breathed to my quickened sense one splendid word,
Liberty; life's full pulse stormed in my blood,
I never lived before, ne'er loved before.

Tris.
O that this moment might stretch out long years,
And we live on as now! It would fill time
But to behold the rapture of thy face.

Is. of I.
I stood and listened to the chanting wind
That bowed the trees, and searched me through and through
Like the invasion of some glorious thought.
I flung myself upon it, let my soul
Be lifted as a leaf, and, borne away,
Rest on its passion like a soaring bird.
I seemed to wing winds, free as themselves.
O Tristram take me, let me sail with thee
Beyond the utmost reaches of the world.
Away with thee, away—sail evermore!

Tris.
The wildness of the winds is in thy words,
My ocean child, and the salt ocean wind
Has revelled in thy hair. The sea, the sea!
There sounds the note of danger, which thy sight
Had lulled to sleep with old forgotten things.
Sit down awhile.
[He leads her to fallen tree.
Isolt, our destiny
Hangs in time's murmuring loom, a web half woven,
That in a moment may be ravelled up.

Is. of I.
[Half rising.]
O, we must fly! 'Tis late, we must begone!

Tris.
[Restraining her.]
Nay, sit and hear. We cannot sail to-night.

Is. of I.
Not sail!

Tris.
The wind's our jailer, and the rocks,
The mad waves thunder on, our dungeon walls.
But now a gaunt, grim-favoured mariner,
Came to me, like a wraith out of the sea.
Our ship's ashore.

[A pause. Isolt sits brooding.
Is. of I.
The sea, the sea! Tristram, the sea's our fate.
What must we do?

Tris.
Get presently to horse
And push for Launcelot's hold.

[Sheet-lightning begins to flash in the background. Isolt starts up.
Is. of I.
The lightning! See!

Tris.
The king's great angel draws his threatening sword—
That was the flash.

Is. of I.
No, no, it is my heart
That fills all heaven with palpitating flame;
Its own defiant lightnings are unsheathed
For battle with the thunderbolts of doom.
'Tis but the pale reflection thou seest there.

Tris.
Thy blood made bold the Irish warrior-queens,
Their haughty spirit lives again in thee.

[Distant thunder heard. A vivid flash shows the face of Melot who peeps out from the tree-stems at the back, makes a gesture of triumph and retires.
Is of I.
Let us take horse, and through the gathering storm,
Ride forth rejoicing.

Tris.
Ho, there! Kurvenal!
To horse, to horse!

[Distant horns heard.
[Kurvenal comes down-stage.
Kur.
'Tis the returning hunt.
They make for home before the blinding storm.
Let them go by. Here's safety for a while.

Tris.
That is good counsel.
[He takes Isolt's head in his hands and gazes into her face.
O my matchless one,
That rapture of revolt is in thine eyes,
Those glorious eyes, that might abash the stroke
Of Death himself!

Is. of I.
My love! Pulse of my heart!
I dare not think what thou hast lost for me!

Tris.
All's nothing, wanting thee. I would lose heaven
For that new world I find within thine eyes.

Is. of I.
Tristram, dare we live on? Can love endure
The changing seasons of our aftertime,
And fear no winter?

Tris.
Oh, love lives in change,
And every moment holds eternity,
A babe re-born upon its passing breast.

Is. of I.
They say men die at turning of the tide.
Comes there no hour at turning of Love's tide,
When lovers ought to die?

Tris.
Let life make answer!

[Tristram's page suddenly rushes in from back.
Page.
Sir Tristram, arm! The wood is full of men,
Bowmen and spearmen in a deadly ring
Close in on every hand.

Tris.
Ha! Treachery!
Quick, Kurvenal, my casque and coat of mail!

[Kurvenal runs to the hut.
Is. of I.
And arms for me! I'll be thy squire. Arms! arms!

Tris.
My warrior love! Break through? Perhaps—or die!

[As Kurvenal brings Tristram's armour, Melot skips in laughing. Caradoc stands at the door.
Melot.
Faggots and fire for the witch! Faggots and fire!

Kur.
[Stabbing him.]
That for thy currish tongue!

Is. of I.
Hold!

[Melot falls with a shriek.
Kur.
He betrayed us!

Melot.

Curses upon thee, coward! O that I might live
to see—

[Isolt looks at him scornfully.
Is. of I.

Poor heap of malice, thou art paid too late!

Melot.

O pity me, lady pity me! I am but a poor fool
—a child—a sick child. Hide my blood, I faint at
the sight of it.

[He dies. Kurvenal hands Tristram his helmet. He throws it down as the king enters, surrounded by Mariodoc and knights, with drawn swords.
Tris.
Too late—the king! Now is love's doomsday come.

Is. of I.
One kiss—the last!

[They embrace hastily, then remain standing side by side.
Mario.
The proof, Sir King!
[King Mark approaches sorrowfully and stands gazing silently at Tristram and Isolt of Ireland.
I here proclaim thee, Tristram,
A most foul traitor.
[He goes up to Tristram who draws his sword.
Yield thy recreant sword!

Tris.
To the king only. Back! I would not slay thee.

[As Tristram lowers his sword, Mariodoc makes a hasty thrust at him, wounding him in the side. Tristram disarms him. Mariodoc retires leaving the sword where it fell.
Is. of I.
O Tristram, dost thou bleed?

Tris.
A scratch, no more—
Dealt by a trembling hand. No hurt at all.

King M.
Here is my breast. Stab, Tristram! Aim that sword
Which gave thee knighthood, at my heart. Let forth
With its last desolate drops, the bitter grief
Thy sin hath planted there. The stroke of steel
Were but my ease, weapons can wound no more.

Tris.
My liege! my liege!

[He surrenders his sword to the king, who takes it mechanically.
King M.
What word is native to the lips of men,
Keen as an angel's falchion that can pierce
The mail of sin that sheathes thee, prick to life
Conscience, where yet perchance she sickly dwells.
O Tristram, Tristram, what a fall is thine!
Worse than man's first from Eden; yea, more like
His, who betrayed his Master with a kiss.
[Tristram remains silent with bowed head.
Thy treachery poisons the sweet air of heaven,
Makes life a wandering horror, and the earth
A quagmire overgreened with rank deceits.
I stand amazed at it. Is God a lie?

Tris.
I am a tree, by a resistless flood
Uprooted and swept down! No man more true,
Till Fate unsphered me with a mightier love!

King M.
Thou dost blaspheme the sacred name of love
In such vile use.

Is. of I.
[With scorn.]
How canst thou know that spirit,
That wind, that fire, that hurrying destiny?

King M.
O thou unblushing shame, thou subtle plague,
Painted so fair, sin hath a face like thine!

Is. of I.
Sin, sin! I had forgot that doleful word—
That name, that spectral fear. Talk'st thou of sin?
Sin follows sin, as wolf the wolf to prey,
Thy own grey sin the leader of the pack.

King M.
Oh, thou hast made my heart a torturing cell,
Where only groans inhabit. Murderess of love,
Murderess of trust in man, and faith in God,
Look on the wreck thy wantonness hath wrought!

Is. of I.
Count it but vengeance, vengeance for my land,
And my own wrong. Thou won'st me as a slave,
The slave will take the slave's way to be free.

Tris.
Enough of words. Uncle, the fault is mine,
Yet, were all told, I never meant thee wrong.

Is. of I.
Tristram, thou didst me wrong. A man may give
All to his friend, his goods, his hopes, his life,
Not his own bride. But now we two must die.

Tris.
Mine is the sin, uncle! Now, as thou lovest me,
Strike; let my blood cleanse my dishonoured sword.

King M.
My hand would honour thee in such a death,
As when I struck thy knighthood on thy shoulder.
It were no punishment for thy foul deed,
If tempting rage moved me to smite thee now.

[Tristram suddenly reels back and points to the sword used by Mariodoc.
Tris.
Isolt! What sword is that?

[Mariodoc laughs.
Is. of I.
[Picking up the sword].
Morough's!
[She flings it away.
Fate, fate!

Tris.
The venomed blade has done its work anew.
Its fire is in me! King, I demand my death;
Let one atone for both! O—were all told!

[He sinks on the ground. Isolt with a cry of despair throws herself down beside him, and takes his head on her lap. The king sheathes his sword and stands over him.
King M.
Be banished to thy lands in Brittany;
And if thou livest, yield thee to my mercy.

[Tristram faints. The spectators close around as the curtain falls quickly.
Curtain