ISOLDA. Have I repulsed thee?

TRISTAN. Fraudulent magic,
framing deceit!

BOTH. Languishing passion,
longing and growing,
love ever yearning,
loftiest glowing!
Rapture confess'd
rides in each breast!
Isolda! Tristan!
Tristan! Isolda!
World, I can shun thee
my love is won me!
Thou'rt my thought, all above:
highest delight of love!


SCENE VII.

[_The curtains are now drawn wide apart; the whole ship is covered
with knights and sailors, who, with shouts of joy, make signs
over towards the shore which is now seen to be quite near, with
castle-crowned cliffs. Tristan and Isolda remain absorbed in mutual
contemplation, perceiving nothing that is passing_.]

BRANGÆNA (_to the women, who at her bidding ascend from below_).
Quick--the mantle!
the royal robe!--