The curtain opens with a cry in the 12th Century.
I am the love child of Lord Rivalin of Brittany
and Lady Blanchefleur,
sister of the Cornish King Mark.
My mother dies in my birth,
My father is assassinated.
My name is Tristan.
Sorrow is inherent in my name.
Still, I grow to be carefree in the arts
and proficient with sword and lance.
I tell myself I’m contented…
until snatched by Norwegian kidnappers.
I make use of my mythic wits to escape,
and after being assaulted by an angry sea,
I join the court of my uncle King Mark
and defeat in a duel to the death
the king’s enemy, the Irish Duke Morolt.
Though bloodied, I manage to slay a dragon
ravishing the Irish kingdom, and
in gratitude, the queen Isolde heals me
with herbs and magic and entrusts to my care
her daughter, Isolde the Fair,
whom I tutor in music and assorted idiolects.
In Cornwall I praise the fair Isolde, her
eyes like blue stones washed in a windy place.
Salivating, King Mark hastens me back
to Ireland to insist she be his bride.
Isolde scoffs.
At sea,
I am the unwilling escort,
she the unwilling bride
urging the ship to sink rather than deliver her
to the lust of the Cornish king.
Isolde commands her servant Brangane
to prepare a poison for me
under the subterfuge of friendship.
In deep depression she shares the toast,
expecting both of us to die, but clever Brangane
exchanged the poisoned wine for a potent
love potion, which the Irish queen had intended
for Isolde and Mark on their wedding day.
We drink the potion and swoon in the ecstasy
of a passionate embrace.
We elude the king’s wrath by racing like the wind
to a convenient cave concealed in the woods,
secured one to the other in lasting love.
Alas, the king’s troops discover the cave,
and with the kisses of Isolde the Fair on my lips
and her emerald ring in my pocket,
I slip away in the night and soon encounter
the Duke of Brittany, help him win a war or two,
and receive as my trophy his daughter,
Isolde of the White Hands.
No, No, No, there are to many Isoldes in my life!
I flee to the sea, fly to the stars on the wings of a gull,
never to be seen again.
The curtain falls with a heavy sigh.
Adieu tristesse.
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and so is this sacred gift
of your imagination you so masterfully
share with us...this was awesome
as always
Love's Bounty
Vickie
Regis
I have always been fascinated by the two Isoldes, the contrast of the divine one and of the human one.
Blessings,
Christine
Your Newfie Friend Hugs, Rose
Libretto of Wagnerian class..now for the music, ah!
Scholarly, Gene, but not a dry dull moment, there's learning and joy and freshness here and i'm savouring this and how i'm saving it.
Kudos!
John