ISOLDA. Put up thy sword
which once I swung,
when vengeful rancor
my bosom wrung,
when thy masterful eyes
did ask me straight
whether King Mark
might seek me for mate.
The sword harmless descended.—
Drink, let our strife be ended!
(ISOLDA beckons BRANGÆNA. She trembles and hesitates to obey. ISOLDA commands her with a more imperious gesture. BRANGÆNA sets about preparing the drink.)
VOICES OF THE CREW (without). Ho! heave ho! hey!
Reduce the sail!
The foresail in!
Ho! heave ho! hey!
TRISTAN (starting from his gloomy brooding). Where
are we?
ISOLDA. Near to shore.
Tristan, is warfare ended?
Hast not a word to offer?
TRISTAN (darkly). Concealment's mistress
makes me silent:
I know what she conceals,
conceal, too, more than she knows.
ISOLDA. Thy silence nought
but feigning I deem.
Friendship wilt thou still deny?
(Renewed cries of the Sailors.)
(At an impatient sign from ISOLDA BRANGÆNA hands her the filled cup.)
ISOLDA (advancing with the cup to TRISTAN, who gazes immovably into her eyes).
Thou hear'st the cry?
The shore's in sight:
we must ere long (with slight scorn)
stand by King Mark together.