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).

Where am I?

KURVENAL (starting in joyous surprise). 
Ha!—­who is speaking? 
It is his voice!—­
Tristan! lov’d one! 
My lord! my Tristan!

TRISTAN (with effort).  Who—­calls me?

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?

TRISTAN.  This my fathers’?

KURVENAL.  Look but around.

TRISTAN.  What awoke me?

KURVENAL.  The herdsman’s ditty hast thou heard, doubtless; he heedeth thy herds above on the hills there.

TRISTAN.  Have I herds, then?

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.

TRISTAN.  What foreign land?

KURVENAL.  Why! in Cornwall; where cool and able, all that was brilliant, brave and noble, Tristan, my lord, lightly took.

TRISTAN.  Am I in Cornwall?

KURVENAL.  No, no; in Kareol.

TRISTAN.  How came I here?

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.

(He presses himself to TRISTAN’S breast.)