seems to oppose them; shock after shock comes upon them; until in the end they are content, feel themselves blest, to be allowed to pass out of life.  We are shown them in four clearly defined phases:  first, loving one another but the love unconfessed; second, the love admitted and the world opposing it; third, love at its height and the world breaking in upon it; last, love beaten in the fight and retreating to the realms of death.  Throughout the drama there is no musical theme representing the idea of the antagonistic world.  There are a dozen love-themes and two death-themes and a great number of what in a symphony would be called subsidiary themes.  By far the most important theme in the whole opera is that with which the prelude opens, one made up of a couple of phrases (a, p. 274).

I shall not for the moment discuss the full significance of the themes as subsequently unfolded:  it suffices now to note the use they are put to in this prelude.  A continuation of this love subject presently is announced (b); then the poison motive (c); and finally yet another love theme.  A tremendous climax is worked up:  the very ecstasy and madness of love; it dies down, and the prelude ends with a sinister and tragic phrase (d), leading straight to a sea-song sung from the masthead of a vessel, on which the curtain rises.

No melody ever sang more clearly of the sea; no melody was ever less like a sailor’s chanty.  I have quoted words and tune in full (f).  The words set the drama a-going; out of the phrase marked (g) the main body of the music of the first scene is spun.  Isolda very naturally thinks an insult is aimed at herself:  it is the spark that sets a light to the explosive material that has been accumulating in her heart for heaven knows how long.  She curses the ship, Tristan, and every one concerned in the conspiracy that is to rob her of the man she loves and hand her over as a slave to the old man she has never seen.  Brangaena, her maid, scared out of her wits, begs to know the truth; Isolda screams for air, which she assuredly seems to need; the curtains at the back of her pavilion are opened, and there, on the stern of the vessel, stands Tristan, the enemy whom she loves.  From the masthead comes again the sailor’s song.  This time it does not immediately arouse Isolda to fury; for now her purpose is set—­to kill Tristan:  take her revenge and end her own life of misery.  “Once beloved, now removed, brave and bright, coward knight.  Death-devoted head, death-devoted heart,” she sings, gazing at Tristan; and at the last words we hear the tremendous death-or murder-theme (h), a theme whose sinister meaning is afterwards unfolded.  She sends Brangaena to order Tristan to come into her tent.  He bitterly avoids understanding her meaning; Brangaena becomes more urgent; Kurvenal, Tristan’s servant, a faithful watch-dog, asks to be allowed to reply; Tristan says he can.  Kurvenal bellows out a song praising