ISEULT.
Tristram, ah! for love of heaven, speak kindly!
What! I hear these bitter words from thee?
Sick with grief I am, and faint with travel;
Take my hand—dear Tristram, look on me!
TRISTRAM.
I forgot, thou comest from thy voyage;
Yes, the spray is on thy cloak and hair.
But thy dark eyes are not dimmed, proud Iseult!
And thy beauty never was more fair.
ISEULT.
Ah, harsh flatterer! let alone my beauty!
I, like thee, have left my youth afar.
Take my hand, and touch these wasted fingers;
See my cheek and lips, how white they are!
TRISTRAM.
Thou art paler; but thy sweet charm, Iseult,
Would not fade with the dull years away.
Ah, how fair thou standest in the moonlight!
I forgive thee, Iseult! thou wilt stay?
ISEULT.
Fear me not, I will be always with thee;
I will watch thee, tend thee, soothe thy pain;
Sing thee tales of true, long-parted lovers,
Joined at evening of their days again.
TRISTRAM.
No, thou shalt not speak! I should be finding
Something altered in thy courtly tone.
Sit—sit by me! I will think, we've lived so
In the green wood, all our lives, alone.
