Isolda monologue (Act 3) — Tristan and Isolda: Opera in Three Acts

(_unconscious of all around her, turning her eyes with, rising inspiration on_ TRISTAN'S _body_) Mild and softly he is smiling; how his eyelids sweetly open! See, oh comrades, see you not how he beameth ever brighter-- how he rises ever radiant steeped in starlight, borne above? See you not how his heart with lion zest, calmly happy beats in his breast? From his lips in heavenly rest sweetest breath he softly sends. Harken, friends! Hear and feel ye not? Is it I alone am hearing strains so tender and endearing? Passion swelling, all things telling, gently bounding, from him sounding, in me pushes, upward rushes trumpet tone that round me gushes. Brighter growing, o'er me flowing, are these breezes airy pillows? Are they balmy beauteous billows? How they rise and gleam and glisten! Shall I breathe them? Shall I listen? Shall I sip them, dive within them, to my panting breathing win them? In the breezes around, in the harmony sound in the world's driving whirlwind be drown'd-- and, sinking, be drinking-- in a kiss, highest bliss!