his ardor requites;
the one sure reward of love!

(_with sobbing voice_.)

Art thou then dead?
Liv'st thou not?
Hast to the curse succumbed?--

(_He listens for_ TRISTAN'S _breath_.)

O rapture! No!
He still moves! He lives!
and gently his lips are stirr'd.

TRISTAN (_very faintly_). The ship--is't yet in sight?

KURVENAL. The ship? Be sure
t'will come to-day:
it cannot tarry longer.

TRISTAN. On board Isolda,--
see, she smiles--
with the cup
that reconciles.
Dost thou see?
Dost thou see her now?
Full of grace
and loving mildness,
floating o'er