TRISTRAM AND ISEULT.

II.

Eseult of Ereland.

TRISTRAM.

RAISE the light, my Page, that I may see her.

Thou art come at last then, haughty Queen! Long I've waited, long I've fought my fever: Late thou comest, cruel thou hast been.

ISEULT.

Blame me not, poor sufferer, that I tarried:
I was bound, I could not break the band.
Chide not with the past, but feel the present:
we meet - I hold thy hand.

I am here

I

TRISTRAM.

Thou art come, indeed.

thou hast rejoin'd me ;

Thou hast dar'd it: but too late to save.

Fear not now that men should tax thy honour.
I am dying build-(thou may'st)-my grave!

ISEULT.

Tristram, for the 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 dimm'd, 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

Join'd at evening of their days again.'

TRISTRAM.

No, thou shalt not speak; I should be finding
Something alter'd in thy courtly tone.

Sit-sit by me: I will think, we've liv'd so
In the greenwood, all our lives, alone.

ISEULT.

Alter'd, Tristram? Not in courts, believe me,
Love like mine is alter'd in the breast.
Courtly life is light and cannot reach it.
Ah, it lives, because so deep suppress'd.

Royal state with Marc, my deep-wrong'd husband
That was bliss to make my sorrows flee!

Silken courtiers whispering honied nothings -
Those were friends to make me false to thee!

What, thou think'st, men speak in courtly chambers Words by which the wretched are consol'd?

What, thou think'st, this aching brow was cooler, Circled, Tristram, by a band of gold?

Ah, on which, if both our lots were balanc'd,
Was indeed the heaviest burden thrown,
Thee, a weeping exile in thy forest-

Me, a smiling queen upon my throne?

Vain and strange debate, where both have suffer'd; Both have pass'd a youth constrain'd and sad; Both have brought their anxious day to evening, And have now short space for being glad.

Join'd we are henceforth: nor will thy people,
Nor thy younger Iseult take it ill,

That an ancient rival shares her office,

When she sees her humbled, pale, and still.

I, a faded watcher by thy pillow,
I, a statue on thy chapel floor,

Pour'd in grief before the Virgin Mother,
Rouse no anger, make no rivals more.