Tristram and Iseult & Sohrab and Rustum

MP3 Audio CD. Tristram and Iseult & Sohrab and Rustum

TRISTRAM AND ISEULT

I

TRISTRAM


Tristram. Is she not come°? The messenger was sure--
Prop me upon the pillows once again--
Raise me, my page! this cannot long endure.
--Christ, what a night! how the sleet whips the pane!
What lights will those out to the northward be°?

The Page. The lanterns of the fishing-boats at sea.

Tristram. Soft--who is that, stands by the dying fire?

The Page. Iseult.°

Tristram. Ah! not the Iseult I desire.

* * * * *

What Knight is this so weak and pale,
Though the locks are yet brown on his noble head,
Propt on pillows in his bed,
Gazing seaward for the light
Of some ship that fights the gale
On this wild December night?
Over the sick man's feet is spread
A dark green forest-dress;
A gold harp leans against the bed,
Ruddy in the fire's light.
I know him by his harp of gold,
Famous in Arthur's court° of old;
I know him by his forest-dress--
The peerless hunter, harper, knight,
Tristram of Lyoness.°
What Lady is this, whose silk attire
Gleams so rich in the light of the fire?
The ringlets on her shoulders lying
In their flitting lustre vying
With the clasp of burnish'd gold
Which her heavy robe doth hold.
Her looks are mild, her fingers slight
As the driven snow are white°;
But her cheeks are sunk and pale.
Is it that the bleak sea-gale
Beating from the Atlantic sea
On this coast of Brittany,
Nips too keenly the sweet flower?