[_In the foreground, in the garden, lies_ TRISTAN _sleeping on a couch under the shade of a great lime-tree, stretched out as if lifeless. At his head sits_ KURVENAL, _bending over him in grief and anxiously listening to his breathing. From without comes the mournful sound of a shepherd's pipe_.
_Presently the shepherd comes and looks in with interest, showing the upper half of his body over the wall_.]
SHEPHERD. Kurvenal, ho!-- Say, Kurvenal,-- tell me, friend! Does he still sleep?
KURVENAL (_turning a little towards him and shaking his head sadly_). If he awoke it would be but for evermore to leave us, unless we find the lady-leech; alone can she give help.-- See'st thou nought? No ship yet on the sea?
SHEPHERD. Quite another ditty then would I play as merry as ever I may. But tell me truly, trusty friend, why languishes our lord?
KURVENAL. Do not ask me;-- for I can give no answer. Watch the sea, if sails come in sight a sprightly melody play.
SHEPHERD (_turns round and scans the horizon, shading his eyes with his hand_). Blank appears the sea!
(_He puts the reed pipe to his mouth and withdraws, playing_.)
TRISTAN (_motionless--faintly_). The tune so well known-- why wake to that?
(_opens his eyes and slightly turns his head_).
KURVENAL (_starting in joyous surprise_). Ha!--who is speaking? It is his voice!-- Tristan! lov'd one! My lord! my Tristan!
KURVENAL. Life--at last-- O thanks be to heaven!-- sweetest life unto my Tristan newly given!
TRISTAN (_faintly_). Kurvenal!--thou? Where--was I?-- Where--am I?
KURVENAL. Where art thou? In safety, tranquil and sure! Kareol 'tis; dost thou not know thy fathers' halls?
KURVENAL. The herdsman's ditty hast thou heard, doubtless; he heedeth thy herds above on the hills there.
KURVENAL. Sir, I say it! Thine are court, castle--all. To thee yet true, thy trusty folk, as best they might, have held thy home in guard: the gift which once thy goodness gave to thy serfs and vassals here, when going far away, in foreign lands to dwell.
KURVENAL. Why! in Cornwall; where cool and able, all that was brilliant, brave and noble, Tristan, my lord, lightly took.
KURVENAL. Hey now! how you came? No horse hither you rode: a vessel bore you across. But on my shoulders down to the ship you had to ride: they are broad, they carried you to the shore. Now you are at home once more; your own the land, your native land; all loved things now are near you, unchanged the sun doth cheer you. The wounds from which you languish here all shall end their anguish.