CORNEL!. UNIVERSITY LIBRARY ?,,•!»* -i v BOUGHT WITH THE INCOME OF THE SAGE ENDOWMENT FUND GIVEN IN 1 89 1 BY HENRY WILLIAMS SAGE MUSIC ML 50.W?3R5 W?'*^ """"^ 3 1924 022 253 078 mus mus Cornell University Library The original of tiiis bool< is in tiie Cornell University Library. There are no known copyright restrictions in the United States on the use of the text. http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924022253078 THE NIBELUNG'S RING THE NIBELUNG'S RING ENGLISH WORDS TO RICHARD WAGNER'S RING DES NIBELUNGEN IN THE ALLITERATIVE VERSE OF THE ORIGINAL BY ALFRED FORMAN. A VERBATIM RE-ISSUE OF THE EDITION OF 1877. THE ONLY VERSION APPROVED BY THE. AUTHOR, AND THE FIRST TRANSLATION OF THE WORK INTO ANY LANGUAGE. LONDON SCHOTT & CO., IS9 REGENT STREET, W. MAYENCE PARIS BRUSSELLS B. SCHOTT'S SOHNE P. SCHOTT ET CIE. SCHOTT FRERES London : Hendersofi iSr= Spalding (Ltd.), Printers, S &' Si Marylebone Lane, W, All rights reserved. TO RICHARD WAGNER With A privately printed Copy of" The Walk yrie." {"Die Liebe lockte den Lenz.") Winter has waned upon his stormy wing — the woods are wild with flowers — before my eyes Spring on the world lies like a lover lies — the birds have bursts of song for everything — it seems as if the ceaseless blossoming, the splendour and the spell can never tire — for if night comes the moon is like a fire — and yet my sadness will not let me sing. Mine is the single sorrow — how shall I bring to my heart the heart I long to bring ? — My heart so bleeds at my own bitter cry I taste its blood — as Siegfried, for the ring, did Fafner's, and a bird, as it goes by, laughs " Love's enough — 'twas Love that lured the Spring ! " Spring, 1873. FORE-EVENING. THE RHINEGOLD. PERSONS. WOTAN, DONNER, Froh, LOGE, Fasolt, Fafner, Alberich, Mime, Fricka, Freia, Erda, woglinde, Wellgunde, Flosshilde, Gods. Giants. f Nibelungs. Goddesses. Rhine-Daughters. Nibelungs. THE RHINEGOLD. AT THE BOTTOM OF THE RHINE. [^Greenish iivilight— lighter ujnuards, darker downwards. The upper part isjilled with waves qf^noving "water that stream restlessly from right to left- Towards the bottom the water is dissolved into a gradually Jiner and finer wet mist, so that the space of a man's height from the ground seems to he quite free froyn water, which flows like a train of clouds over the dark depth. Everywhere rugged ridges of rock rise from the bottom, and form the boundary of the scene, 7 he whole floor is broken into a wilderness of jagged masses, so that it is nowhere perfectly level, and indicates in every direction deeper passages stretching into thickest dark- ness. In the middle of the scene, round a rid^e which, with its slender point, reaches up into the thicker and lighter water, one of the Rhine-Daughters s^ivims in gracefuc movement.) WOGLINDE. Weia ! Waga ! Waver, thou water ! Crowd to the cradle ! Wagalaweia ! Wallala weiala weia ! Wellgunde's {voicefrofn ahove). Watchest thou, Woglind', alone ? WOGLINDE. Till Wellgund' is with me below. Wellgunde {dives down from, the flood to the ridge). Is wakeful thy watch ? {She tries to catch Woglinde.) Woglinde {swi-ms out of her reacK), Safe from thee so. {They incite and seek playfully to catch each other). B 10 The Rhinegold. Flosshilde's ivoice/rotn above'). Heiala weia ! Wisdomless sisters ! Wellgunde. Flosshilde, swim ! Woglinde flies ; help me her flowing to hinder ! Flosshilde {dives down and swims between them as they Hay). The sleeping gold slightly you guard ; better beset the slumberer's bed, or grief will bring us your game ! (With merry cries they swijn away from each other; Flosshilde tries to catch Jirst one and then the other ; they slip from her, and then together give chase to Flosshilde ; so, laughing and playing, t/tey dart like Jlsh front ridge to ridge. Meanwhile Alberich has come out of a dark chasm from below, and clitnhs up a ridge. Still surrounded by the darkness, he stops and observes ■with growing pleasure the games of the water-maidens.) Alberich. Hi hi ! you Nodders ! How neat I find you ! Neighbourly folk ! From Nibelheim's night I soon will be near, if made I seem to your mind. (TVi^ viaidens, on hearing Alberich' s voice, stop their play.") Woglinde. Hi ! what is here ? Wellgunde. It whispered and gleamed. Flosshilde. Watch who gazes this way. (They dive deeper down, and perceive the Nibelung.) The Rhinegold. ii WOGLINDE and WELLGUNi^h. Fie ! what frightfulness ! Flosshilde (swimming swiftly up). Guard the gold ! Father said that such was the foe. ( The two others follow her^ and all three gather quickly round the -middle ridge.) Alberich. You there aloft ! The Three. What leads thee below ? Alberich. Spoil I your sport, if here you hold me in spell ? Dive to me deeper ; with you to dance and dabble the Nibelung yearns ! Wellgunde. Our play will he join in ? WOGLlNDE. Passed he a joke ? Alberich. How fast and sweetly you flash and swim ! The waist of one I would soon undauntedly wind, slid she dreadlessly down ! Flosshilde. Now laugh I at fear ; the foe is in love. (They laugh). B 2 12 The Rhmegold. Wellgunde. And look how he longs ! WOGLINDE. Now shall we near him ? She lets herself down to the foini of the feak, whose foot Alberich has reached.) Alberich. She lets herself low. WOGLINDE. Now come to me close ! Alberich iclimhs with imp-like agility^ but stopping often on the way, towards the *oint of the peak). Sleek as slime the slope of the slate is ! I slant and slide ! With foot and with fist I no safety can find on the slippery slobber ! {He sneezes.) A sniff of wet has set me sneezing ; the cursed snivel ! {He has reached the neighbourhood of tVoglinde.) WOGLINDE {la-ughing). With winning cough my wooer comes ! Alberich. My choice thou wert, thou womanly child ! {He tries to embrace her.) Woglinde (winding out of his way). Here, if thy bent I heed, it must be ! She has reached another ridge. The sisters laugh.) The Rhinegold. Albeuich {^scratches his head). grief ! thou art gone ! Come though again ! Large for me is the length of thy leap. WOGLINDE {springs to a third ridge lower down). Sink to my side, and fast thou shalt seize me ! Alberich {climbs quickly down). Below it is better ! WOGLINDE darts quickly upwards to a. high side-ridge). Aloft I must bring thee ! {All the maidens laugh.) Alberich. How follow and catch I the crafty fish ? Fly not so falsely ! {He attemps to climb hastily after her.) Wellgunde (has sunk down to a lower reef on the other side). Heia ! thou sweetheart ! Hear what I say ! Alberich {turning round). Wantest thou me ? Wellgunde. 1 mean to thee well ; this way turn thyself, try not for Woglind' ! Alberich {climbs quickly over the bottom to Wellgunde). More fair I find thee than her I followed. 14 The Rhinegold. who shines less sweetly and slips aside. — But glide more down, if good thou wilt do me ! Wellgunde (sinking down still lower towards him). And now am I near ? Alheeich. Not yet enough ! Thy slender arms set me within ; feel in thy neck how my fingers shall frolic ; in burying warmth shall bear me the wave of thy bosom. Wellgunde. Art thou in love, and aim'st at delight ? If so, thy sweetness 1 first must see ! — Fie ! how humpy and hidden in hair ! Black with brimstone and hardened with burns ! Seek for a lover liker thyself ! Alberich {tries to hold her by force). Unfit though I'm found I'll fetter thee safe ! Wellgunde {darting quickly up. to the Tjtiddle peak). Quite safe, or forth I shall swim ! {All three laugh.) Alberich out of temper J scolding after her). Fitful child ! Chafing and frosty fish ! The Rhinegold. ig Seem I not sightly, pretty and playful, smiling and smooth ? Eels I leave thee for lovers, if at my skin thou can scold ! Flosshilde. What say'st thou, dwarf? So soon upset? But two thou hast asked try for the other — • with healing hope let her allay thy harm ! Alberich. Soothing words to-wards me are sung. — How well in the end that you all are not one ! To one of a number I'm welcome ; though none of one were to want me !— Let me believe thee, and draw thee below ! Flosshilde [dives down to Alberich) What silly fancy, foolish sisters, fails to see he is fair ? Alberich {quickly approoiking her). Both dull and hateful here I may deem them, since I thy sweetness behold. Flosshilde {Jlatteringly) , O sound with length thy lovely song ; my sense it loftily lures ! !# The Rhinegold. Alberich {^touching her trustfully). My heart shakes and shrivels to hear showered so pointed a praise. Flosshilde {gently repulsing him). Thy charm besets me and cheers my sight; in thy leaping laughter my heart delights ! {She draws him tenderly to her). Sorrowless man ! Alberich Sweetest of maids ! Flosshilde. Art thou my own ? Alberich. All and for ever ! Flosshilde {holding him quite in her arms). I am Stabbed with thy stare, with thy beard I am stuck ; O let me not loose from the bliss ! In the hold of thy fixed and furrowing hair be Flosshild' floated to heaven ! At thy shape like a toad, to the shriek of thy tongue, O let me in answerless spell, look and hearken alone ! Wo^linde and Wellgunde have dived down close to them and novi break out inio ringing laughter.) Alberich {starting in alarm out of Flosshilde^ s arms). Make you laughter at me ? The Rhinegold. ij Flosshilde {breaking suddenly Jrojn him'). We send it as last of the song. {She darts upwards with her sisters and joins in their laughter. 'j Alberich (with shrieking z'oice). Woe ! Ah, Woe ! O grief ! O grief ! The third to my trust is treacherous too ? — You giggling, gliding gang of unmannerly maidens ! Feel you no touch, you truthless Nodders, of faith ? The Three Rhine-Daughters. Wallala ! Lalaleia ! I.,alei ! Heia! Heia ! Haha ! Lower thy loudness ! Bluster no longer ! Learn the bent of our bidding ! What made thee faintly free in the midst the maid who fixed thy mind ? True finds us and fit for trust the wooer who winds us tight. Freshen thy hope, and hark to no fear ; in the flood we hardly shall flee. They swim away from each other, hither and thither,, now higher an now lower ^ to provoke Alberich to chase them, ) Alberich. How in my body blistering heat upheaves the blood ! Lust and hate with heedless longing harrow my heart up ! i8 The Rhinegold. Laugh and lie as you will, wide alight is my want till ease from one of you end it ! (W/M desperate efforts he hegins to imrsue them, wiihfearfulnimhleness he climbs ridge after ridge, springs from one to the other, and tries to seize now this maiden, now that, mho always escape from him with mocking laughter; he stumbles, falls into the depth below, and then clijnbs hastily up again— till at last he loses all patience ; breathless, and foaming with rage, he stops, and stretches his clenched fist up towards the ??iaidens.) Alberich {almost beside himself). This fist on one to fix ! i,He remains looking upwards in speechless rage till his attention is suddenly caught and held by the following spectacle : Through tlie flood from above a gradually brighter light has penetrated, which now, at a high spot in the middle peak, kindles into a blinding golden i^lare ; a magical yellow light breaks thence through the water. ) WOGLINDE. Look, sisters ! The wakener's laugh is below. Wellgunde. Through the grassy gloom the slumberer sweetly it greets. Flosshilde. Now kisses its eye and calls it to open ; lo, it smiles in the smiting light ; through the startled flood flows the stream of its star. The Three {gracefully swimming round the peak together) Heiayaheia ! Heiayaheia ! Wallalallalala leiayahei ! Rhinegold ! Rhinegold ! Burning delight, The Rhinegold. 19 how bright is thy lordly laugh ! Holy and red the river behold in thy rise ! Heiayahei ! Heiayaheia ! Waken, friend, fully wake ! Gladdening games around thee we guide ; flames are aflow, floods are on fire ; with sound and with song, with dives and with dances, we bathe in the depth of thy bed. Rhinegold ! Rhinegold ! Heiayaheia ! Wallalaleia yahei ! Alberich (whose look is strongly attracted by the lights and remains fixed on the gold). What's that, you gliders, that there so gleams and glows ? The Three Maidens {]jy turns). Where is the wonderer's home, who of Rhinegold never has heard ? — He guessed not aught of the golden eye that wakes and wanes again ? Of the darting star that stands in the deep and lights the dark with a look ? — See how gladly we swim in its glances ! Bathe with us in the beam thy body, and fear no further its blaze ! (They lauefi.) The Rhinegold. Alberich. Is the gold but good for your landless games ? I lean to it little ! WOGLINDE. To the matchless toy more he would take, were he told of its wonder ! Wellgunde. The world's wealth is by him to be won, who has from the Rhinegold hammered the ring that helps him to measureless might. Flosshilde. Father it was who warned us, fast and whole to guard him the gleaming hoard that no foe from the flood might seize it ; so check your chattering song ! Wellgunde. What brings, besetting sister, thy blame ? Hast thou not learned who alone, that lives, to forge it is fit ? WOGLINDE. Who from delight of love withholds, who for its might has heed no more, alone he reaches the wonder that rounds the gold to a ring. The Rhinegold. 21 Wellgunde. No dread behoves it to daunt us here ; for life without love is unknown of ; none with its pastime will part. WOGLINDE. And hardest the deed to the hankering dwarf; with fire of love he looks to be faint 1 Flosshilde. I fear him not as I found him now ; with his love he soon would have set me alight. Wellgunde. Like a brimstone brand in the waves he burned ; with heat of love he hissed aloud. The Three. Wallalalleia ! Lahei ! Wildering lover, wilt thou not laugh ? In the swaying gold how softly thou gleam'st ! Why sound we our laughter alone ? {They laugh:) , Alberich with his eyes fixed on the i old has listened to the hurried chatter of the sisters). The world's wealth by the might of thy means I may win — 22 TJie Rhinegold. and forced I not love, yet delight at the least I might filch ! {Fear/itlly loud.) Laugh as you like ! The Nibelung nears you at last ! {With rage he leaps to the middle peak and climis with terrible speed towards its tap. The maidens dart asunder with cries and swim upwards in different directions.) The Three Rhine-Daughters. Heia ! Heia ! Heiahahei ! See to yourselves ! The dwarf is unsafe ! How the water spits where he has sprung ; with love his wits he has lost ! ( They laugh in maddest jnerriment.) Alberich {at the top of the peak stretching his hand towards the gold.') Dream you no dread ? Then smother the dark your drivelhng smiles ! Your light let I begone ; the gold I clutch from the rock and clench to the greatening ring ; for lo ! how I curse love, be witness the water ! {He seizes, with fearful force, the gold from the ridge, and plunges head- long with it into the depth where he swiftly disappears. Thick night breaks suddenly in on all sides. The maidens dart straight after the the thief down into the depth.) The Rhine-daughters {screavzing). Grasp the stealer ! Stop the gold ! Help! Help! Woe ! Woe ! {The Jlood falls with them down towards the bottom ; front the lowest depth is heard Alberich' s yelling laughter. The ridges disappear in thick- est darkness ; the whole scene, froin top to bottovz, is filled with black waves of water that for some tivie still seem to sink downwards.) The Rhinegold. 23 {By degrees the ivaves change into clouds which become gradually clearer ^ and when at last they have quite disappeared, as it were in fine ntist, AN OPEN DISTRICT ON MOUNTAIN-HEIGHTS becoTnes visible, at first still dim viith night. The breaking day lightens •with growing brightness a castle with shining battlements that stands upon apoint of rock in the background ; between this castle-croitmed rock andthe foreground of the scene lies, as is to be supposed, a deep valley, with the Rhine flowing through it. A t the side onfiowery ground lies Wotan with Fricka beside him ; both are asleep.) Fricka {awakes, her eye falls on thi castle ; she is surprised and alarmed) . Wotan ! Husband ! Awaken ! WOTAN (Rightly in his dream) The happy hall of delight is locked amid gate and guard ; manhood's worship, measureless might, mount to unfinishing fame ! Fricka [shakes hint). Up from the dreadless drift of thy dreams ! Awake, and weigh what thou doest ! Wotan iawakes, and raises himself a little ; his eye is immediately caught by sight of the castle). Behold the unwithering work ! With heeding towers the height is tipped ; broadly stands the stately abode ! As I drew it in dream — as it was in my will — safe and fair finds it my sight, — holy, sheltering home ! 24 The Rhinegold. Fricka. So meet thou deemest what most is my dread ? Thy welcomed walls for Freia beware of. Waken and be not unmindful to what a meed thou art bound ! The work is ended and owed for as well ; forgettest thou what thou must give ? WOTAN. Forgotten not is the guerdon they named who worked at the walls ; the unbending team by bargain I tamed, that here the lordly hall might be lifted ; they piled it — thanks befall them ; — for the pay fret not thy thought. Fricka. O light unmerciful laughter ! Loveless masterly mischief ! Had I but heard of your freak, its fraud would wholly have failed ; but boldly you worked it abroad from the women, — where safe from sight you were left alone with the giants to juggle. So without shame or shyness you sold them Freia, my flowering sister, — and deemed it sweetly was done. — What to you men for worship is meet, when your minds are on might ? WoTAN. Was Wotan's want The Rhinegold. 45 from Fricka so far, who sought for the fastness herself ? Fricka. Of my husband's truth was my heed ; I tried, in soundless sorrow, how to find him the fetters fittest to hold him at home ; lordly abode and blissful living lightly with bitless reins should bind thee to lingering rest; thy bent for the building leaned on fence and fight alone ; worship and might thou mean'st it to widen ; that steadier storm may betide thee thou turn'st to its towering strength. WOTAN {^smiling). Wert thou to grasp me in guard like a woman, thou yet must yield to my godhood that, in the bulwarks irked and bounded, the world it outwards should win. Freedom and freshness he loves who lives ; I part not lightly with pastime. Fricka. Hard, unmoved and harassing man ! For might and lordship's meaningless lure, thou scatter'st in loudness of scorn love and a woman's worth ! ad The Rhinegold. Wot AN ifiamestly). To earn a wife in thee was it my other eye went into pledge when I wooed ; how blindly passed is thy blame ! Women I worship too far for thy wish ; and Freia, the sweet'ner, sell I not forth ; I meant not such in my mind. Fricka. Then shield her to-day ; in shelterless dread hither she dashes for help ! Freia (^entering hurriedly). Ward me, sister ! See to me, Wotan ! For Fasolt roars, from the ridge of his fastness, his fist is ready to fetch me. Wotan. Let him howl ! — Beheld'st thou not Loge ? Fricka. How besettingly try'st thou his slyness with trust ! Though harm we have stood at his hands, he clouds thee still with his cunning. Wotan. Where manly mood counts I call none of my neighbours ; but to find in hate of foes a friendship, cunning only and craft. The Rhinegold. 27 with Loge to lead them, can aid. He, whom 1 hearkened to, swore to find a safety for Freia ; on him my hope I have set. Fricka. And he leaves thee alone. — Here stride instead the giants in storm ; where slinks thy slippery stay ? Freia. What hinders my brothers from help they should bring me, when of Wotan's my weakness is bare ? Behold me, Donner! Hither! Hither! Haste to Freia, my Froh ! Fricka. In the heartless bargain who bound thee, they hide their best from thee here. (Fasolt and Fafner enter, lath of giants' stature, and armed with strong stakes.) Fasolt. Soft sleep sealed thy sight ; we set meanwhile unslumb'ringly the walls. Nameless toil tired us not; strength of stone on high we stowed ; deep in towers, tight with doors, holds and seals the slender house its hall. Well stands what we steepened, c 2 28 T}ie Rhinegold. decked with light of laughing dawn , — pass the gate, and give the pay ! WOTAN. Name, neighbours, your meed ; what like you most to light on ? Fasolt. The rate we mean already is marked ; I find thy memory faint. Freia, the holder — Holda, the freer — we have thy word — her win we for home. WoTAN. Sick is thy brain with bargain and sale ? Think on fitter thanks ; Freia I sell not so. Fasolt {.for a moment speechless with rage a-Tid. surprise). What hear I? Ha! Brood'st thou on harm, on hurt to the bond ? On thy spear written read'st thou as sport the runes that bound the bargain ? Fafner {sniieriK^. My trusty brother ! Tells the blockhead a trap ? Fasolt. Light-son, lightly made and minded, hark with timely heed — The Rhinegold. ag and truthful be to bonds ! All thou art abides but under a bargain ; in measured mood wisely weighed was thy might. Thou warier wert than we in thy wits, wielded'st our freedom to friendly ways ; curses await thy wisdom, far I keep from thy friendship, find I thee aught but open and fair when faith to thy bargains is bid ! A senseless giant so has said ; though wiser, see it his way ! WOTAN. How slily thou say'st we meant what passed at playtime among us ! The flowery goddess, gleaming and fleet, would blind you both with a glance ! Fasolt. Must thou mock ? Ha ! is it meet ? — You who for fairness rule, young unfaltering race, like fools you strive for a fastness of stone, put for house and hall worth of woman in pledge ! We sorely hasten and sweat with hardening hand, till won is a woman with sweetening ways beside us to wait ; — and upset wilt thou the sale ? 30 The Rhinegold. Fafner. Balk thy worthless babble ! For wealth woo we no bit ! Faintly help us Freia's fetters ; yet much grows if once from the gods we can get her. Golden apples there are in her gleaming garden ; none but her has the knowledge to nurse them ; the kindly fruit kindles her fellows to youth that bears unyellowing blossom ; far at. once they wane from their flower, weak and low will they be left, when Freia feeds them no longer ; from their faces let her be led ! WOTAN {to khnself). Loge saunters long ! Fasolt. Make swiftly thy mind ! WOTAN. Point to lighter pay ! FASor.T. No lower ; Freia alone ! Fafner. Thou there, follow forth ! (They Jiress towards Freia.) Freia I^Jleeing). Help ! Help ! they will have me ! {Donner and Froh hurrv in.) The Rhinegold. Froh {taking Freia in his a-nns). To me, Freia ! — Meddle no further ! Froh saves his sister. DONNER {placing^ himself be/are the giants'). Fasolt and Fafner have halted before at my hammer's hearty fall ! Fafner. What wilt thou threat ? Fasolt. Who thrusts this way? Fight fits us not now ; we need what fairly we named. DONNER {swinging his hammer) . I judged oft what giants are owed ; rested no day in wretches' debt ; behold ! your guerdon here I give you in worthy weight ! WOTAN (stretching out his spear between the opponents'). Hold, thou haster ! Force is unfit ! I shield the words on my weapon's shaft j beware for thy hammer's hilt ! Freia. Sorrow ! Sorrow ! Wotan forsakes me ! 31 g2 T?ie Rhinegold. Fricka. As hitherto hard find I thy heart ? WOTAN {turns away and sees Loge coming. Loge at last ! — Com'st thou so soon to see me unclasped from the cursed bond of thy bargain ? I.OGE {has come in fro-m the background, out of the valley). Why ? from what bargain where I have bound thee ? The one that the giants joined thee wisely to work ? — For heights and for hollows hankers my heart ; house and hearth not a day I hold ; Donner and Froh are fonder of roof and room ; when they will woo, a house wait they to have ; a stately hall, a standing home, were what stirred Wotan's wish. — House and hall — wall and wing — the laughing abode — at last is broadly built ; the soaring towers I tested myself; if all was hard I asked with heed ; Fasolt and Fafner I found were fair ; not a stone flinched where it stood. No sloven was I like some I see ; he lies who says I was lame ! The Rhinegold. 33 WOTAN. So sUly slipp'st thou aside ? How thou betray'st me take the whole of thy heed! Among us all not another moved even with me to up-aid thee into our midst. — Now spur thy wits and speak ! When first as worth of their walls the workmen fixed upon Freia, thou saw'st I would no sooner be won than on thy oath I had put thee to loosen the lordly pledge. LOGE. With lasting heed to look for hints of how we might loose her — such wholly I swore ; but now to find thee what never fits — what needs must fail, a bond could nowhere have bound me ! Fricka l^to Wotcm). Wronged I lately the Ungering rogue ? Froh. Thou art known as Loge, but liar I name thee ! DONNER. Thou cursed fire, I'll crush thee flat ! 34 The Rhinegold. LOGE. Their blame to screen scold me the babies. Donner and Ffoh prepare to attack him.) WOTAN {/brbiddinff them). In freedom leave me my friend, and scorn not Loge's skill ; richer worth in his words is read when counted well as they come. Fafner. Push the counting ! Quickly pay 1 Fasolt. Much palters the meed ! WoTAN (Jo Loge). Await, harasser ! Hark to me well ! What was it that held thee away ? Loge. Threats are what Loge learns of thanks ! In heed for thy strait I hied like a storm, I drifted and drove through the width of the world, to find a ransom for Freia — fit for the giants and fair. I looked soundly, but see that at last in the wheeling world lies not the wealth, that can weigh in mind of a man for woman's wonder and worth. (,A II fall into surprise and confusion.') The Rhinegold. -jc Where life is to be lit on, in water, earth, and wind, I asked always, sought without end, where forces beset, and seeds are unfettered, what has in mind of man more weight than woman's wonder and worth ? But where hfe is to be lit on, to scorn I was laughed for my questioning skill ; in water, earth, and wind, nothing will loose from woman and love. — But one I learned of at last who had warred on love ; for gleaming gold from woman he widely goes. The Rhine's bemoaning children chattered to me their wrong ; the Nibelung, Night-Alberich, bade them in vain bend to his voice in their bath ; the Rhinegold then and there from the river he rent ; he holds its glance his holiest good, and greater than woman's worth. For the flickering toy, so torn from the flood, they sounded their tale of sorrow ; thy side, Wotan, soon they will seek ; thou wilt rightly see to the robber, its wealth again wilt give the water, and sink it away into safety. — Such are the tidings 3;6 The Rhinegold. I said I would take thee ;— so Loge told them no lie. WOTAN. Wanton thou art, or else bewildered ! Myself see'st thou in need ; what help is now in my hands ? Fasolt {who has carefully listened^ to Fafner) . The gold from the dwarf should be guarded, much wrong he has done us already ; but slily always slipped he out of reach of our wrath. Fafner. Harm anew the Niblung will hatch us, now that the gold he has got. — Swiftly, Loge, say without lies, what good is known of the gold, that the Niblung sought it so ? Loge. A lump was it below the water, children to laughter it charmed ; but when to a ring it rightly is welded, it helps to highest might and wins its master the world. WOTAN. Of the Rhinegold were already whispers ; runes of booty abide in its ruddy blaze. Might and riches would make without measure a ring. Ttie Rhinegold. %f Fricka. Would not as well the golden wealth be worn with its gleam by women for shining show ? LOGE. A wite might force her husband to faith, held she in hand the sparkling heaps that spring from hurrying hammers raised at the spell of the ring. Fricka. My husband will get the gold to him here ? WOTAN. The hoop to have with me hold I wholly for wisdom. — But hark, Loge, how shall I learn the means that let it be made ? Loge. By spell of runes is wrought the speeding ring ; none has known it ; yet each can wield its aid, who weans from love his life. ( IVotan Uirns away with disgust^ Thy loss were ill, and late moreover ; Alberich lingered not off ; swiftly he severed the wonder's seal ; and rightly welded the ring. 38 The Rhinegold. DONNER. Ill would dwell for us all in the dwarf, if long we the ring were to leave him. WOTAN. The robber must lose it ! Froh. Lightly lo without curse of love will it come. LOGE Gladly as laughter, without pain in a game of play ! WOTAN. But hear me, how ? LOGE. By theft ! What a thief stole thou steal'st from the thief; could gain be more thankfully got ? But with artful foil fences Alberich ; brisk and sly be in the business, call'st thou the robber to claim, that the river's maidens their ruddy mate, the gold, back may be given ; for so as I said they will beg. WOTAN. The river's maidens ? What mean they to me Fricka. Of the trickling breed bring me no tidings ; Ttie Rhinegold. 39 for many men, with loss to me already they reft from the light. {IVotan stands in silent conflict luith himself; the other gods^ in speech- less anxiety^ fix their eyes on him. Meanwhile^ Fa/ner, asides has con- sulted "With Fasolt.) Fafner. Mark that more than Freia fits us the glittering gold ; and endless youth is as good, though by spell of gold it be got. (^They come near again.) Hear, Wotan, a word while we halt ! Live with Freia in freedom ; lighter rate find I of ransom; for greedless giants enough is the Nibelung's ready gold. Wotan. Wander your wits ? What is not my wealth, to askers like you can I yield ? Fafner. Long work uplilted thy walls ; light were it, by warier ways than our hatred happened to know, to fetter the Niblung fast. Wotan. For such — now to seize on the Niblung ? For such — fight with the foe ? Unabashed and overbearing I think you under my thanks ! 40 The Rhinegold. Fasolt {^suddenly seizes Freia. and takes Jier with Fafner aside). To me, Maid ! For home we make ! In pledge rest for our toil, till thy ransom is paid. {Freia shrieks; all the gods are in the greatest alarm.) Fafner. Fast along let her be led ! Till evening — hear me out — her we pin as a pledge ; we back will bring her ; but if it be that we find ready no ransom of Rhinegold fit and red — Fasolt. We wrangle no further, Freia, as forfeit, for ever follows us off! Freia. Sister ! Brother ! Save me, both ! {The giants hurriedly drag her off: the troubled gods hear her cries of distress die away in the distance. ) Froh. Up, to her aid ! DONNER. Bar me not any ! {They question Wotan with their looks.) LOGE {looking after the giants). Over stump and stone they heave hence like a storm ; through the river's forded reach fiercely they flounder ; The Rhinegold. 41 Freia seems far from sweetly to sit the shape of their shoulders ! Heia! Hei ! How bluster the blockheads along ! In the land hang not their heels ; nought but Riesenheim's bound now will bring them to rest ! {He turns to the gods.) Why left is Wotan so wild ? How goes the luck of the gods ? {A pate mist with increasing thickness Jills the stage; in it the gods soon put on a. look 0/ grtnuing -whiteness and age ; all stand looking with trouble and expectation at Wotan^ wlio fixes his eyes on the ground in thought. ) LOGE. Mocks me a dream, or drowns me a mist ? How sick and sad you suddenly seem ! In your cheeks the light is checked ; the cheer of your eyes is at end ! — Up, my Froh, yet early it is ! — In thy hand, Donner, what deadens the hammer ? — Why grieved is Fricka ? Greets she so faintly the grayness Wotan has got, to warn him all must be old ? Frecka. Sorrow ! Sorrow ! Why are we so ? Donner. My hand is stayed. Froh. My heart is still. 42 The Rhinegold. LOGE. Behold it 1 Hark what has happened ! On Praia's fruit I doubt if you feasted to-day ; the golden apples out of her garden have yielded you dower of youth, ate you them every day. The garden's feeder in forfeit is guarded ; on the branches frets and browns the fruit — and rots right to its fall. — My need is milder ; to me never Freia has given gladly the fostering food ; for barely half so whole I was bred as you here ! But your welfare you fixed on the work of the fruit, and well were the giants ware ; a trap they laid to tangle your life, which look how to uphold ! Without the apples, old and hoar — hoarse and helpless — worth not a dread to the world, the dying gods must grow. Fricka. Wotan ! Husband ! Where is thy hope ? Own that thy laughing lightness has ended in wrong and wreck for all ■ Wotan {starting up -witH sudden decision). Up, Loge ! The Rhinegold. 43 And let us be off ! To Nibelheim now together 1 At hazards I'll have the gold. LOGE. The Rhine-maidens moan for their rights — and may they not hope for thy hearing ? WOTAN [impetuously). Tush, thou talker ! Freia — befriending Freia rests for her ransom. LOGE. Fast as thou like let it befall ; right below nimbly I lead through the Rhine. WOTAN. Not through the Rhine ! LOGE. Then come to the brim of the brimstone cleft, and slip inside with me so ! {He goes first and disappears sideways in a cleft j out of which immediatelv ^ows a sulphurous mist.) WOTAN. You Others, halt till evening here ; for faded youth the fresh'ner is yet to be found ! {He g-oes down after Loge into the cleft ; the mist that rises out of it spreads itself over the whole scene and quickly fills it with a thick cloud. Already those who stay iekinti have become invisible.) DONNER. Farewell, Wotan ! D 2 44 The Rhinegold. Froh. Good luck ! Good luck ! Fricka. O soon again be safe at my side ! (Xfie mist darkens till it becomes a perfectly black cloudy which moves from below upwards : this changes itself into a firm, datk chasm ofrock^ that still moves in an upward direction, so that it seems as if the stage were sinking deeper and deeper into the earth. At length from different directions in the distance dawns a dusky rea light : a vast far-stretching SUBTERRANEAN CAVERN. becomes visible., which on all sides seems to issue in narro^v passages. Alberich drags the shrieking Mime by the ear out of a side-cleft.) Alberich. Hihi ! Hihi ! To me ! To me ! Try not thy tricks ! Lustily now look to be lashed, find I not finished fitly and well at once the work that I fixed ! Mime (Jiowling). Oho ! Oho ! Oh ! Oh ! Let me alone ! Ready it lies ! Rightfully wrought, with sores and sweat not to be named ; off with thy nail from my ear I Alberich {loosing him). Why saunter so long to let me see ? The Rhinegold. ,^5 Mime. It struck me something might still beseem it. Alberich. What stays to be settled ? Mime {confused) . This . . . and that . . . Alberich. What " that and this " ? Hither the whole ! ^He seeks to seize hint dgain hy the ear : in fright Mime lets fait a piece of metal-ivork that he held convulsively in his hands. Alberich instantly Hcks it up and examines it ivith care,) So thou rogue ! See it is ready, and finished as most fits to my mind ! So fancied the sot shly to foil me, and take the masterly toy that he made only by help of a hint of my own ? Thoughtless and hasty thief ! i^He puts the work as " Tarn-helm " on his head.') The helm sets to my head ; see, if the wonder will work ? — " Night and darkness, know me none ! " {His figure disappears ; in his place a pillar of cloud is seen.) See'st thou me, brother ? Mime {looks wonderingly adout). What bars thee ? I see thee no bit. 46 The Rhinegold. Alberich's Then feel me instead, thou standing fool ! Be weaned from thy stealthy whims ! Mime screams and writhes under the strokes of a whip whose fall is heard, without the whip itself being visible.) Alberich's invoice., laughing). Thanks, thou thinker, for wise and thorough work. — Hoho! Hoho! Nibelungs all,, kneel now to Alberich ! Everywhere waits he and watches his workmen ; rest and room are you bereft of; now you must serve him though not in your sight ; when he seems to be far — he fully besets you ; under him all are for ever ! Hoho! Hoho! Lo he is near, the Nibelungs' lord ! {The pillar of cloud disappears towards the background ; AlbericKs angry scolding is heard gradually farther and farther off; from the lower clefts he is atiswered by howls and cries, the sound of which by degrees dies out in the further distance. Mime for pain has fallen to the ground; his whimpering and groaning are heard by Wotan and Lo^e who descend by a cleft frotn aiove.) LOGE. Nibelheim here ; through hindering film what a sputter of fiery sparkles ! Wotan. Who groans so loud ; what lies on the ground ? The Rhinegold. 47 LOGE {bends down to Mivte), Who is the whimperer here ? Mime. Oho! Oho! Oh ! Oh ! LOGE. Hi, Mime ! merry dwarf ! What frets and forces thee down ? Mime. Mind not the matter ! LoGE. Such is my meaning ; and more, behold ; help I have for thee, Mime ! Mime {raising himself a little^. Who sides with me ? I serve the mastering son of my mother, who bound me safely in bonds. LOGE. But, Mime, to bind thee what bred him the might ? Mime. With evil wit welded Alberich, of gold he wrung from the Rhine, a ring ; at its stubborn spell we stammer and stumble ; with it bridles he all of lis Nibelungs now to his bent. — 4® The Rhinegold. Once in our forges freely we welded gifts for our women, winningest gear ; neatly like Niblungs we toiled, and laughed for love of the time. Now hotly he works us in holes and in hollows ; for him alone we hammer and live. Through the golden ring his greed can guess what ore unhewn is withheld in the earth ; then straight we must strike it, grovel and stir it ; we smelt the booty and smite at the bars, without room or rest, to heap our ruler the hoard. LOGE. What laggard was latest under his lash ? Mime. He looks on me, alas ! without mercy ; a helm he wished heedfully welded ; he hinted well the way he would have it. I marked in mind what boundless might must be in the work, as I wove the brass ; so, hoped to save the helm for myself, and in its force from Alberich's fetter be free — perhaps, yes perhaps. The Rhinegold. 49 outwit my unwearying heeder — with fetters to rise and befall him — the ring wrench from his finger — so that, then, such as I find him, a master in me he might feel ! LOGE. What let thy wisdom limp by the way ? Mime. Ah, though the helm I had welded, the wonder, that in it hides, I read not aright how to hit ! Who bespoke the work, and spoiled it away, he led me to learn, when truly too late, what a trick lurked in the toy ; from my face he faded, and blows, that from nowhere known abounded, I bore. For such, my unthoughtful self I thank ! {IVith criesj h£ rubs his back. The gods laugh.) LOGE (to Wotan). To seize, not light at least he seems. Wotan. But the foe, ere fail thy wits, must fall. Mime struck with the laughter of the gods exatnitus them more carefully). Who are you that stir me so strongly for answers ? LOGE. Friends to thy kin ; go The Rhinegold. we come to free the Nibelungs forth from their need. {Aider ick's scoldings and beating approach c^ain.) Mime. Heed to yourselves ! He is at hand ! WOTAN. We wait for him here. {H e seats himself quietly on a stone; Loge leans at his side, Alberich, who has taken the tarn- helm frorn his head and hung it in his girdle^ with the swing of his whip drives before hint a crowd of Nibelungs upwards from the lower hollow ; they are laden with gold and silver treasure which, under Alberich^s continued aiuse and blame, they store all in a, pile and so heap to a hoard.') Alberich. To-wards ! Away ! Hihi! Hoho! Lazy lot, here aloft heighten the hoard ! Thou there ! On high ! Hinder not thus ! Harassing herd, down with it hither ! Am I to help you ? All of it here ! (^He suddenly sees Wotan and Loge^ • Hi ! Who beholds ? What walks this way ? — Mime ! To me, rubbishing rogue ! Ply'st thou thy tongue with the trespassing pair ? Forth, thou failer 1 Hence to thy forge and thy hammer ! {}Vith strokes of his whip he drives Mime in among the crowd of the Nibelungs^ Hi I to your work ! Wontedly hasten ! The Rhinegold. 51 Lighten below ! From the greedy places pluck me the gold ! The whip shall dint you, dig you not well ! If listlessly Mime lets you be minded, he hardly will shield from my hand his shoulders ; that I lurk like a neighbour when nobody looks, enough he lately has learned. — Linger you still ? Loiter and stay ? (//« drams his ring from his finger, kisses it, and stretches it threateningly out.) Shake in your harness, you shameful herd ; fitly fear the ruling ring ! IVith howling and crying, the Nibelungs, with Mime ajnong thetn, disperse and slip, in all directions, down into the pits.) Alberich {fiercely approachine; Woian and Loge). What hunt you here ? WOTAN. From Nibelheim's hiding land we lately in news have heard of endless wonders worked under Alberich, and greed to behold them gained thee hither thy guests. Alberich. Your grudge you ran rather to glut ; such nimble guests I know well enough. 52 The Rhitiegold. LOGE. Know me indeed, drivelling dwarf? What seems there, so to bark at, in sight ? When low in cowering cold thou lay'st, who fetched thee light and fostering fire, ere Loge laughed to thee first ? What for were thy hammer, had I not heated thy forge ? Kinsman I count thee, and friend I became, — I think but faulty thy thanks ! Alberich. For light-elves now is Loge's laughter, and slippery love ; art thou fully their friend, as once my own thou wert — ha ha ! behold ! — I fear no further their hate ! Loge. So me to hope in thou mean'st ! Alberich. In thy falsehood freely, not in thy faith ! — But at ease face I you all. Loge. Lofty mood has lent thee thy might ; great and grim thy strength has grown. Alberich. See'st thou the hoard The Rhinegold. 53 my sullen host set me on high ? LOGE. Such harvest I never have known. Alberich. A daylight's deed, of scanty deepness ; mighty measure must it end in hereafter. WOTAN. How helps thee now such a hoard in hapless Nibelheim, where nought for wealth can be won ? Alberich. Goods to gather and hide when together, helps me Nibelheim's night ; but from the hoard, in the hollow upheaped, unheard of wonders I wait for ; the world with all its wideness my own is for ever. WOTAN. To thy kindness how will it come ? Alberich. Though in listless breezes' breadth above me you live, laugh and love ; with golden fist you gods I will fall on together ! As love no more to me belongs, all that has breath must be without her ; though gold was your bane, for gold you blindly shall grapple. 54 The Rhinegold. On sorrowless heights in happy sway you hold yourselves ; and dark-elves you look in their deepnesses down on ; — have heed ! Have heed ! — When first you men have fall'n to my might, shall your frisking women who failed to be wooed, though dead is love to the dwarf, feed under force his delight. — Hahahaha ! Hear you not how ? Have heed ! Have heed of the night and her host, when Niblungs heave up the hoard from depth and dark into day ! WOTAN i^ekemently). The false, slandering fool ! Alberich. What says he ? LOGE {stepping between them). Thy senses see to ! (TV Alberich.) Who of wonder is empty, that haps on Alberich's work ? If half thou would'st meet from the hoard should come as means it thy cunning, of all I must own thee most mighty ; for moon and stars and the sun in the middle would, like everything other, work but under thy will. But weighty holds it my wisdom, The Rhinegold. 55 that the hoard's upheavers — the Nibelungs' host — hold thee not in hate. Thou hast raised fiercely a ring, and fear rose on thy folk ; but say, in sleep a thief on thee slipped and reft slily the ring, in safety would ward thee thy wits ? Alberich. The longest of head is Loge ; others holds he always unhinged ; if he were but wanted to help my work for heavy thanks, how high were his thievish heart ! — The safening helm I hit on myself, the heedfullest smith, Mime, had it to hammer ; ably to alter whither I aim, to be held for another, helps me the helm ; neighbours see me not when they search ; but everywhere am I, unsighted by all. So at my ease I settle at even thy side, my fond unslackening friend ! LOGK. Life I have looked on, much have been led to, but such a wonder not once I have seen. The helm to believe in hardly I hasten ; 56 The Rhinegold. if thou hast told me truly, for thy might is there no measure. Alberich. Deem'st thou I lie and drivel like Loge ? LOGE. Weight it with work, or, dwarf, I must doubt thy word. Alberich. The blockhead with wind of his wisdom will burst ; now grip thee thy grudge ! For say, in what kind of a shape shall I come to thy sight ? Loge. The most to thy mind ; but dumb must make me the deed ! Alberich IJtas put on. ike helm). " Wheeling worm wind and be with him ! " {He immediately disappears ; in kis place an enormous snake is seen wind- ing on the ground I it rears and stretches its open Jaws towards Wotan and Loge.) LoGE pretends to he seized •with/ear). Oho! Oho! Snap not so fiercely, thou fearful snake ! Leave my life to me further ! WoTAN {laughs). Right, Alberich ! Right, thou rascal ! How deftly waxed the dwarf to the width of the worm ! The Rhinegold. gy (The snake disappears, and in its place Alierich immediafely is seen again in his real/ortn.) Alberich. How now ! you doubters, did I enough? LOGE. My fear is fully the witness. The clumsy worm becam'st thou at once since what I watched, thy word I take for the wonder. But works it likewise when to be little and light thou wantest ? A safer trick were such, in time of danger or dread ; only too deep after all ! Alberich. Too deep indeed it sounds for a dunce ! How slight shall I seem ? LOGE. That the closest cleft may befit thee, a toad can take to in fear. Alberich. Nought is lighter ! Look at me now ! (He puis the tarn-helm on again.) " Grizzly toad twist and grovel ! " (He disappears; the gods perceive among the stones a toad creeping towards thijn.') LoGE (to Wotari). Trap with fleetest fetter the toad ! Wotanfuis his foot on the toad; Lege grasps at its head and seizes the tarn-helm in his hand.) 5^ The Rhinegold. Alberich ijiecomes suddenly visible in his real shape as he writhes under Wotan^sfoot). Oho ! Be cursed ! Behold me corded ! LOGE. Tread him hard, till he is tied. {.He has taken out a roJ>e and with it fastens A Iberich's amis and legs ; they both seize him as he writhes in his attetnjits to defend himself and drag hint with them towards the cleft by which they had descended.^ LOGE. Now swiftly up ! So he is ours ! {They disappear upwards.") {The scene graditally changes back to the OPEN DISTRICT ON MOUNTAIN HEIGHTS, as in the second scene ; it is however still veiled in a ^ale mist, as, before the second change, after Freia's disappearance, Wotan and Loge, dragging with them A Iberich in his bonds ^ come up out of the cleft.) LOGE. Here, kinsman, come to thy halt ! Watch, belovfed, and learn the world thou wilt bend to thy beggarly will ; bespeak the spot, where Loge his life may spend. Alberich. Rascally robber ! Thou wretch ! Thou rogue ! Loosen the rope, let me alone, or pay at the last for thy pastime. Wotan. With fetters hast thou The Rhinegold. 59 fairly been haltered, since to the world, that wheels and slides, thou meantest thy will for master. In fear thou art tied at my feet, and feel'st the truth as I tell it ; thy wriggling limbs now loose with a ransom. Alberich. Fie ! the dunce, the fool for my dream ! To think of trust in the treacherous thieves ! Withering vengeance wipe out the whim ! LOGE. Ere vengeance befall us thou first must vaunt thyself free ; to a foe in fetters pay the free for no plunder. , So for vengeance to find us, veer from thy fierceness and reach us a ransom in full ! Alberich (sharply). Unfold what fix you to have ? Wot AN. The hoard and thy glancing gold. Alberich. Wretched and ravening rogues ! (To himself) Yet let me but hold the ring, the hoard without risk I can lose ; for again it shall gather and sweetly shall grow in the might, of the mastering gold ; 6a The Rhinegold. and the trick were a way of turning me wise, no further than fittingly paid, if for it I part with the pile. WOTAN. The hoard shall we have ? Alberich. Loosen my hand and let it be here. (J^oge unties his right hand.) Alberich {touches the ring with his lips and mutters the command). — And now the Nibelungs hastily near ; my behest they bend to ; hark how they bring from the deepness the hoard into day. Now free me from press of the bonds ! WOTAN. No bit till first thou hast paid. ( 'I he Nibelungs rise out of the cleft laden with the treasure of the hoard. Alberich. O withering wrong — that the wary rascals should see me suffer such woe ! — Settle it here ! Hark what I say ! Strait and high stow up the hoard ! Move it not lamely, and look not at me ! — Downwards deep at once from the daylight ! Back to the work that waits in your burrows I The Rhinegold. 6i Harm to him that is faint, for I fast shall follow you home ! (77/^ Nibelungs, after they have piled up the hoard, slip eagerly down again into the clefts Alberich. The gold I leave you ; now let me go ; and the helm at least that Loge withholds, again you will give me for luck ? Loge {thrffwinff the tarn-helm on the hoard). By rights it belongs to the ransom. Alberich. The cursed thief ! — But comes a thought ! Who aided in one, he welds me another ; still hold I the might that Mime must heed. Yet ill it feels that eager foes should have such a harbouring fence. — But lo ! Alberich all has left you ; so loose the bite of his bonds ! Loge (to Wotan). Now is he needless, here in his knots ? Wot AN. A golden hoop behold on thy finger ; hear'st thou, dwarf? Without it the hoard is not whole. Alberich QwT^fied). The ring? 62 The Rhinegold. WOTAN. Along with the ransom's rest thou must leave it. Alberich. My life — ere I lose the ring ! WOTAN. The ring I look for ; thou art welcome well to thy life ! Alberich. Rendered, with breath and body, the ring must be to the ransom ; hand and head, eye and ear, are my own no rather than here is this ruddy ring ! WOTAN. Thy own thou wilt reckon the ring ? Ravest thou openly of it ? Soundly here to me say whence thou hadst the gold for the glimmering hoop ? Ere thou torest it to thee under the water, was it thy own ? From the river's daughters rightfully draw whether the gold was so willingly given from which the ring thou hast wrenched. Alberich. Sputtering slander ! Slovenly spite ! Me to blot with the blame thy mind so much was set on itself! The Rhinegold. 63 How long wouldst thou have wished to leave them their wealth, hadst thou not held the wisdom to weld it too hard ? And well, thou feigner, fell it that once, when the Niblung here was gnawed to the heart at a nameless harm, on the harrowing wonder he happed, whose work now laughs to thy look ! By woe seized upon, searched and wildered, a deed of crowded curses I did — and dreadly to-day shall the fruit of it deck thee, my curse to befriend thee be called ? Guard thyself more, masterful god ! Wrought I amiss, I wrecked but a right of mine ; but on all that will be, is and was, god, thou raisest a wrong, if got from my grasp is the ring ! WOTAN. Off with the ring ! No right to it takest thou out of thy tongue. (With imfetuous force he pulls the ring from Alberich's finger.) Alberich {with horrible shrieks). So ! Uprooted ! and wrecked ! Of wretches the wretchedest slave ! WOTAN (has put the ring on his finger and gazes on it with satisfaction). And lo what makes me at last of masters the mastering lord ! 64 The Rhinegold. LOGE. Leave has he got ? Wot AN. Let him go ! LOGE {nn/astens AlbericKs hands). Haste to thy home ! Not a link withholds thee ; fare freely below ! Alberich {raising hifnself/rofn the ground, with raging laughter'). So am I free ? Safely free ? — Then fast and thickly my freedom's thanks shall flow ! — As by curse I found it first, a curse rest on the ring ! Gave its gold to me measureless might, now deal its wonder death where it is worn ! No gladness grows where it has gone, and with luck -in its look it no more shall laugh ; care to his heart who has it shall cleave, and who holds it not shall the need of it gnaw ! All shall gape for its endless gain ; but wield it shall none from now as wealth ; by its lord without thrift it shall lie, but shall light the thief to his throat ! To death under forfeit, faint in its dread he shall feel ; The Rhinegold. §5 though long he live — day by day he shall die, and serve the ring that he. seems to rule ; till again its gold I shall find and fill with my finger ! — Such blessing in blackest need the Nibelung has for his hoard ! — Withhold it now, next to thy heart ; till my curse catches thee home ! ijtie disappeurs quickly into the cleft^ LOGE. So he leaves us and sends his love ! WOTAN idlest in contemplation of the ring). Losing his spittle in spite ! (The mist in the foreground gradually becomes clearer. LOGE {looking towards the righf). Fasolt and Fafner haste from afar ; Freia follows their heels. (From the other side come in Fricka, Donner, and Froh. Froh. So back they are brought. Donner. Be welcome, brother. Fricka Qmrrving anxiously to Wotan). Sound will thy tidings sweetly ? LoGE {pointing to the hoard). Of trick and of force the fruit we took, and won what Freia wants. 66 The Rhinegold. DONNER. From the giants' hold joys she to hasten. Froh. With freshening breath filled is my face ; sweetness of sunlight into me sinks ! Our hearts were wistful as women's while here we waited for her, who only yields us the bliss of endlessly blossoming youth. {The foreground has again become bright ; the gods' appearance regains in the light its former freshness ; over the background^ however, the mist still hangs, so that the distant castle remains invisible.) {Fasolt and Fafner approach, leading Freia between them.) Fricka {rushes joyously towards her sister to embrace her). Loveliest sister, sweetest delight ! Bind me again to thy bosom ! Fasolt {forbidding her) Stay ! Let her alone ! Still she all is ours. — At Riesenheim's towering rim rested we two ; in blameless plight the bargain's pledge we held for pay ; though grief it prove, again we give her, if whole and ready the ransom's here. WOTAN. At hand lies it ready ; in friendly mood may it fairly be measured ! The Rhinegold. 67 Fasolt. To leave the woman, lightly will lead me to woe ; so that she wane from my senses, must the hoard we take heighten its top, till from my gaze her flowering face it shall guard ! WOTAN. At Freia's height the heap shall be fixed. {^Fafiier and Fasolt stick iheir stakes in front oj Freia into the ^ound^ insuch Tnannertkatthey include the same height and breadth as herfigure.) Fafner. The poles we have set to the pledge's size ; the hoard must hide her from sight. WOTAN. Hurry the work ; hateful I hold it ! LOGE. Help me, Froh ! Froh. Freia's harm haste I to finish. (J^Qge and Froh quickly heap the treasure between the stakes.) Fafner. Not so light and loose it must look ; fast and firm let it be found ! lyith rudi force he presses the treasure close together; lie stoops down to search for spaces.) A gap I behold ; the holes are forgotten ! 68 The Rhinegold. LOGE. Withhold, thou lubber ! Lift not a hand ! Fafner. But look ! A cleft to be closed ! WOTAN {turning away in disgttsi). Right to my heart hisses the wrong, Fricka (^ith her eyesjixed on Freid). See how in shame she shyly and sweetly shrinks ; to be loosed she lifts wordless woe in her look. O harmful man ! So much at thy hand she has met ! Fafner. Still more I miss ! DONNER. Beside myself makes me the wrath roused by the mannerless rogue 1 — Behold, thou hound ! Must thou measure, thy size thou shalt settle with me ! Fafner. Softly, Donner ! Roll when thy sound wUl help thee sooner than here ! Donner. With thy bark see if thou balk it ! Wotan. Hold thy rage ! — Already Freia is hid. The Rhinegold. 69 LOGE. The hoard is drained. Fafner i^uasuring with his eye). Still dazzles me Holda's hair ; more is at hand meet for the heap ! LOGE. Mean'st thou the helm ? Fafner. Quickly let it come ! WOTAN. Keep it not longer ! LOGE {fhrows the helTti on the heaf). Enough it is lieightened. — Now are you happy ? Fasolt. Freia's no longer free to my look ; is she then loosed ? Am I to leave her? Qie steps close vp to the hoard and spies through it.) Woe ! yet gleams her glance to me well ; her eyelight's star streams without end ; here through a cleft it comes to me whole ! — While with her look I am hghted, from the woman I will not loose. Fafner. Hi ! what bring you its brightness to hinder ? 7© The Rhinegold. LOGE. Hunger-holder ! Hast thou forgot that gone is the gold ? Fafner. Not fully, friend ! From Wotan's finger glean the glimmering ring, and choke the chink in the ransom. WOTAN. What ! with the ring ? LOGE. Madly mean you ! To Rhine-maidens belongs its gold ; to their guard back he must give it. WOTAN. What blab'st thou about ? With work and wear I found it, and freely save it myself. LOGE. Ill then weighs it all for the word that I gave them over their grief. WOTAN. But thy word can bar not my right ; as booty wear I the ring. Fafner. But here for ransom hast thou to reach it. WOTAN. Fleetly fix what you will ; The Bhinegold. 71 all shall await you ; but all the world not rend me out of the ring ! Fasolt. (a/zM rage pulls Freiafrotn behind the hoard). Then all is off, the time is up, and Freia forfeit for ever ! Freia. Help me ! Hold me ! Fricka. Stubborn god, stay not the gift ! Froh. Gone let the gold be ! DONNER. Hold not the hoop back ! WOTAN. Leave me at rest ! I loose not the ring. (^Fa/ner still holds off the impetuous Fasolt ; all stand in perplexity ; Wotan in rage turns away front thetn. The stage has again become dark; from the chastn at the side a bluish light breaks forth ; in it Wotan sud- denly perceives Erda, who, as far as her middle, rises out of the depth ; she is of noble appearance with wide-flowing black hair.) Erda {^stretching her hand wamingly towards Wotan). Yield it, Wotan, yield it ! Keep not what is cursed ! Soon is sent darkly and downwards he who saves the hoop. Wotan. What warning woman is here ? fa The Rhinegold. Erda. How all has been, count I ; how all becomes, and is hereafter, tell I too ; the endless world's ere-Wala, Erda, bids thee bethink. Thrice of daughters, ere-begotten, my womb was eased, and so my knowledge sing to thee Norns in the night-time. But dread of thy harm draws me in haste hither to-day ; hearken ! hearken ! hearken ! Nothing that is ends not ; a day of gloom dawns for the gods ; — be ruled and wince from the ring I She sinks slowly up to the breast ^ while the bluish light begins to darken. WOTAN. With hiding weight is holy thy word ; wait till I more have mastered ! Erda ((M she disappears'). I warned thee now — thou know'st enough ; brood, and the rest forebode ! i^She disappears completely^ WoTAN. Fear must sicken and fret me ? Not if I seize thee, and search to thy knowledge. He attempts to follow Erda into the cleft to hold her ; Donner, Froh, and Fricka throw themselves before hitn and prevent him.) The Rhinegold. . ►r* Fricka. What mischief maddens thee ? Froh. Beware, Wotan ! Hallow the Wala, hark to her word ! DONNER ito the giants). Heed, you giants ! Withhold your hurry ; the gold have, that you gape for. Freia. How shall I hope it ? Was then Holda rightly her ransom's worth ? {All look with anxiety at Wotan ) WOTAN {?vas sunk in deep thou^kt and now collects himselfwitk force to a decision). To me, Freia ! I make thee free ; yield us again the youth that thy going had reft ! You giants, joy of your ring ! {He throws t/ie rin^ on the hoards ( The giants let Freia go ; she hastens joyfully towards the gadst who for sotne time caress her by turns in greatest delight^ {Fafner spreads out animmense sack and attacks the hoard topack it in it.) Fasolt {throwing himself in his brother's way). Softly, hungerer ! Some of it hither ! Both for a wholesome half were the better. Fafner. More to the maid than the gold hadst thou not given thy heart ? 74 The JRhinegold. With toil I brought thy taste to the bargain. Would'st thou have wooed but half of Freia at once ? Halve I the hoard, rightly I hold the roundest sack for myself. Fasolt. Slandering rogue ! Rail at me so ? (7(J the gods.) Try the matter between us ; halve for us meetly here the hoard ! {IVotan turns contemptuously away.) LOGE. The rest leave to Fafner ; light with thy fist on the ring ! Fasolt (.falls 7tpon Fafner^ who meanwhile has been vigorously packing his sack). Withhold, thou meddler ! Mine is the hoop ; I got it for Freia's glance. {lie grasps sharply at the ring.) Fafner. Forth with thy fist ! My right is first ! (.They struggle ; Fasolt wrenches the ring from Fafner.) Fasolt. Mine wholly have I made it ! Fafner. Hold it fast ! Might it not fall ? (//* strikes madly at Fasolt with his stake, and stretches him, with a blow on the ground; as he dies he snatches the ring from him.) The Rhinegold. 7S Now freely at Freia blink ; with the ring at rest I shall be ! He pttts the ring in the sack^ and then leisurely packs the whole hoard. All the gods stand horrijied. Long solemn silence^ WOTAN. Fiercely comes before me the curse's force ! LOGE. Thy luck, Wotan, will not be likened ! Much was reaped when thou met'st with the ring : but its good is still greater since it is gone, for their fellows, see, slaughter thy foes for the gold that thou forego'st. Wotan (deeply vioved). Still misgivings unstring me ! A threatening fear fetters my thought ; how to end it Erda shall help me ; to her down I must haste ! Fricka {pressing caressingly to him). What weighs on Wotan? Sweetly await the soaring walls to draw with welcome wide and warmly their doors. Wotan. I bought with blameful pay the abode ! F 2 76 The Rhinegold. DONNER {pomiing; to the background, which is still veiled in mist). Harassing warmth hangs in the wind ; ill for breath is the burdened air ; its lowering weight shall lighten with scattering weather, to sweep the sky for me sweet. He has mounted a high rock in the slope of the valley, and begins to swing his hammer.) Heyda ! Heyda ! To me with you, mists ! In crowd at my call ! Hark how your lord hails for his host ! At the hammer's swing sweep to me here ! Heyda ! Heyda ! Deepen the dark ! Donner hails for his host ! (^The clouds have drawn themselves round him together ; he disappears entirely in a mass of storm-cloud that gradually becomes denser and darker. Then the blow of his hammer is heard falling heavily on the rock ; strong lightning leaps from the cloud ; a violent thunder-clap follows.) Brother, to me ! Mark out its way for the bridge 1 iFrah has disappeared with him in thecloud. Suddenly it draws asunder ; Donner and Froh become visible ; from their feet, in blinding brightness, a rainbow bridge stretches over the valley to the castle, that now, lighted by the evening sun, shines in clearest splendour.) {Fafner, near his brother's corpse, having at last packed the whole hoard into the great sack, has, during Donner s storm-spell, put it on hi-; back and left the stage.) Froh. Though built lightly looks it, fast and fit is the bridge ; it helps your feet without fear to the hall ! The Rhinegold. tjij WOTAN. Evening eyelight aims the sun ; its sinking stream strikes widely the walls ; when they led the morning's look into laughter, lone and masterless, lost and luring they lay. From morning to evening, with easeless mind and might worked I to win them ! The night is near ; her hatred now ward from my head the walls ! So— hail to the hall! Shelter from shame and harm ! (To Fricka.) Follow me, wife ! To Walhall find we the way ! (He takes her hand.') Fricka. What sense is inside it ? The name till now was unsounded. WOTAN. What, in might over fear, my manfulness found, shall matchlessly live and lead the meaning to light ! Wotan and Fricka walk towards the bridg e ; Frok and Freia follow next^ then Donner.) LOGE (lingering; in the foreground and looking after the gods) . To their end they fleetly are led, who believe themselves founded for ever. Almost I shame to mix in their matters ; 78 The Rhinegold. in flustering iire afresh to be loosened a lurking fondness I feel. To swallow the teachers who settled me tame, rather than blindly blend in their wreck, though godliest gods I may think them, no fool's thought were it found ! I'll deem about it ; who bodes what I do ? {He proceeds leisurely io join the gods. Out of the depth is heard the song of the Rhine-daughters^ sounding upwards^ The Three Rhine-daughters. Rhinegold ! Guiltless gold ! How bright and unbarred was to us once thy beam I We mourn thy loss that lone has made us 1 Give us the gold, O bring us the gleam of it back ! WOTAN ( just about to set his foot on the bridge^ stops and turns round). Whose sorrow reaches me so ? LOGE. The river-maidens', who grieve for their missing gold. WoTAN. The cursed Nodders ! — Keep me clear of their noise ! LOOE ifialling down into the valley). You in the water, why yearn you and weep ? Hear from Wotan a hope — The Rhinegold. 79 " Gleams no more " the gold to the maids, " may the gods, with strengthened glory, "sun them sweetly instead !" ijrhe gods laugh aloud and step on to the ItridgeJ) The Rhine-daughters {from tlie depth). Rhinegold ! Guiltless gold ! O would that thy light in the wave had been left alive ! Trustful and true is what dwells in the depth ; faint and false of heart what is happy on high {As ail the gods are crossing tlte bridge to the castle^ the curtain falls.') FIRST DAY. THE WALKYRIE. PERSONS. SlEGMUND. HUNDING. WOTAN. SlEGLINDE. Brunnhildf, Fricka. Eight Walkyries. THE WALKYRIE. FIRST ACT. The inside of a dwelling-place. (Jn the -middle stands the stem of a mighty ash, whose rMts in strong relief straggle far over the ground; the top of the tree is shut out by a wooden roof pierced in such a manner that the stem and the branches, which stretch in every direction, pass through corresponding openings ; it is assumed that the foliage of the top spreads itself out above this roof Built round the ash-stem as centre is a wooden room; the ivalls are of rough-heivn woodwork hung here and there with woven curtains. To the right in the foreground stands the hearth, the chimney of which goes sideways out through the roof; dehi?id the hearth is an inner room like a store-honse to which a few wooden steps lead up ; before it hangs a woven curtain half drawn back. In the background an entrance-door with smooth wooden bolt. To the left the door of an inner chamber, to which also steps lead up ; further forward on the same side a table, with a broad wooden seat behind it attached to the wall, and with wooden footstools in front of it.) {A short orchestral prelude of impetuous stormy movement introduces the action. As the curtain rises, Sieginund hurriedly opens the entrance-door ^rom without and comes in; it is toiuards evening; a strong stoTtn just about to end. Siegmund holds for a moment the bolt in his hand and surveys the room ; he appears spent ivith extreme exertion ; his clothes and looks show that he is inflight. As he sees no one he shuts the door behind him, walks to the hearth and throrus himself exhausted on a covering oj bearskin^ Siegmund. Whose hearth here may be, help it must bring me. (Jle sinks back and remains for some time sti etched out without move- ment. Sieglinde enters from the door of the inner chamber. From the noise she had heard she supposed it was her husband returned home ; her look expresses earnest surprise at seeing a stranger stretched out at the hearth^ Sieglinde instill in the background). An unknown man ! Me he must answer. {She goes softly a few steps nearer.) m The Walkyrie. Who haunts the house and lies at the hearth ? {^As SiegtnH}fd does not move she ^oes still a little tuarey and looks at him.) Weary looks he with length of way ; — seized him a sickness ? Lost is his sense ? {She bends closer to him.) He breathes with his bosom j his lids he but lowered ; — meet and manful he seems, in his sunken might. SlEGMUND {suddenly raising his head). A well ! a well ! SlEGLINDE. I go for water. {She hurriedly takes a drinking horn, goes out of the honse, comes back with it Jilled and hands it to Siegmund.) Drink, to ease it, I offer thy dryness ; water — what thou hast wished ! {Siegimmd drinks and hands the horn back to her. After he has made signs 0/ thanks ivith his head, his look remains fixed with growing sympathy on her features.) Siegmund. P"ast with its coolness filled me the cup, a lifted weight lightens my limbs, my mood is a man's, my eye is wide with wonted sweetness of sight ; who wakes and welcomes me so ? SlEGLINDE. The woman and house are wealth of Hunding ; The Walkyrie. 87 let him lend thee his roof; halt till he reaches home ! SlEGMUND. Weaponless am I ; the wounded guest he will grieve not to harbour. SlEGLINDE {anxiously). But where are hidden thy hurts ? SlEGMUND {shakes himself and springs vigorously up into a sitting posture). Too light weigh they to lead to a word ; my limbs in their sockets safely are left. If but half as well as my hands shield and weapon had helped me, flight from foes I had shunned ; but in shivers they falsely fell. The foe with his hatred followed me hard, a burning storm stifled my breath ; but faster than I could fly them, wanes my faintness away; lost is the night from my look, and sunlight sent me anew. SlEGLINDE ijuis filled a horn with tneiid and hands it to him). The freshening might of flowery mead seek not to leave unsipped. SlEGMUND. First if it feel thy lips ! (Sieglinde sips the horn and offers it to him again ; Siegmund takes a long draught ; he then takes the horn quickly from his lips and gives it hack. They look at each otherforso^n^ time in silence and with increasinginierest.) 88 The Walkyrie. SlEGMUND (w/M trembling voice). With thy help met'st thou a hapless man ; — far may woe from thy way be found ! i^tle starts quickly up to depart,') Aroused and rested and sweetly saved, forth from sight I will fare. SlEGLINDE (,tufning quickly round). Who besets thee to flee so soon ? SlEGMUND {stayed by her voice turns again ; slowly and gloomily). Ill-luck I always after me lead ; ill-luck is swiftly lured where I settle ; but aloof from thy side it shall light ! Forth hft I look and foot. {He goes quickly to the door and lifts ifie bar,) SlEGLINDE {calling after hitn with impetuous selfforgeifulness). Here stay behind ! No sorrow hast thou for her, whose house is her sorrow's seat ! SlEGMUND {deeply moved remains standing and searches Sieglinde^s face; she at lengthy ashamed and sad, casts down her eyes. Long silence. Siegmund turns back and sits down leaning against the hearth), Wehwalt — I said that I was; — Hunding here I will wait for. {Sieglinde remains in troubled silence ; then starts, listens and hears Hunding lead his horse to the stable outside ; she goes liastily to the door and opens it.) The Walkyrie. gg {ffutiding, armed with shield and spear, appears and remains standing in the doorzvay when he sees Siegmnnd.} SlEGUNDE (in reply to Hunding's seriously inquiring look). Faint at the hearth I found him here ; harm followed him fast. HUNDING. Thou fresh'ned'st him ? SlEGLINDE. His mouth I moistened him, gladly made him guest. SlEGJlUND (steadily and quietly observing Hunding), House and drink I had from her ; blame shall it help to bring her ? HUNDING. Holy is my hearth ; — holy find thou my house ! (7'tf Sieglinde, as he puts off his weapons and hands them to her,) Haste the meal for us men ! {Sieglinde hangs up the weapons on trie ash-stem, takes food and drink out of the store-roojn and sets stepper on the tahle.) HUNDING. (examines sharply and with surprise Siegjnunds features, which he com' pares with his wife' s ; to himself). How like to the woman ! The lurking worm looms like hers in his look. {He conceals his surprise, and turns without restraint to Siegmund^ Long thy way looks to have wound ; no horse he rode, who rested here ; what muddy pathways made thee thy pain ? 90 The Walkyrk. SlEGMUND. Through field and forest, heather and hedge, hunted me storm and strongest need ; I know not the way that I went ; where I have hghted learned I of none ; gladly I'd gather the news. HUNDING {at the tablet *«^ offering Sieginund a seat). Whose house thou hast, whose roof's thy rest, Hunding reckon the host ; well to the westward from here away, in crowded halls harbour the kindred, who foster the fame of Hunding. Make me glad of my guest ; let me greet him now by his name 1 iSieg;intind, who has seated himself at the table y fixes his eyes in thought. Sieglinde has seated herself by Hunding, opposite Siegniund, and fastens her look on the latter -with strange sympathy and expectation.) Hunding {watching them both). May not the truth be trusted with me, my wife shall take thy tidings ; see how she waits for their sound ! SlEGLlNDE {with unembarrassed sympathy). Guest, of thy name I gladly would know. SlEGMUND {raises his eyeSf looks in herface^ and begins earnestly), Friedmund I cannot be called ; Frohwalt would that I were ; but to Wehwalt only I answer. The Walkyne. gj Wolfe my father was ; at once into the world awoke a sister and I ; soon missed I both mother and maid ; who brought me forth — and who fellowed my birth ; barely I knew them by name. Warlike and strong was Wolfe ; his foes unstinted and fierce. Once forth to hunt my father I followed ; from hurry and heat when homeward he led, left we beheld the lair ; to dust was burnt the lordly abode, to a stump the oak's unwithering stem, before us the mother manfully fall'n, and smothered in cinders the sister's trace ; — the Neidings' treacherous band had dealt us the deadly blow. Beset we fled — the father and son ; years now lurked the life of the youngling with Wolfe in wild and wood ; hunt and snare were set for their heels \ but well we warded them — wolf and whelp. ( Turning to Hundiiig.) A Wolfing tells thee the tale, who as "Wolfing" follows his fame. HUNDING. Wonder and startling story, stranger, thy words unwind ; G 2 9? The Walkyrie. Wehwalt— the Wolfing ! In tidings of wildness and war their names ere now were told me, though never I Wolfe and Wolfing knew. SlEGLINDE. But further, guest, unfold where to-day thy father dwells. SiegmUnd. The Neidings fiercelier now held us in hunt than before ; the wolf was hard with wounds on his hunters, in flight from their game fast they were gone ; they sped before us like spray. But my father amid them I missed, and his track was fainter the further I trod ; a fallen wolfskin far in the wood I found under my feet ; my father I met no more. When the wood wanted his face, it forced me to men and to women ;- wherever I fared, whomever I found, wished I for friend, or strove for wife, — still was my wooing unwanted ; ill-luck on me lay. The rule I counted right — others cried to be wrong ; the deed I deemed was false — others found to be fair, and war was with me over the world ; The Walkyrie. 93 rage rose on every road ; grasped I at gladness, woe was my gain ; so to call myself Wehwalt came I, for only woe was my own. HUNDING. To have let thee know such luck, must love thee not the Norn ; with gladness hails thee no host to whom thou go'st as guest. SlEGLINDE. None but cowards mind a man unweaponed and lone to meet ! — Yet further, guest, — why it befell at last thy weapons were lost ? SlEGMUND {with increasing: animation), A hapless child hailed me for help ; her kin were minded to couple by might, to a man that she loved not, the maid ; heed to her grief I hastily gave ; with scars and blood scattered the band ; the field I bared of foes ; undone and dead were the brothers ; the woman bewailed on their breasts ; her wrath was wrecked in her woe ; with tide too full to quench befell the quarry her tears ; for their death, that herself she had dealt in, sorrowed the brotherless bride. But a storm of kindred came as I stood. 94 The Walkyrie. vengeance swore and vowed they would slaughter me round us the forest flamed with their faces ; still from the men stirred not the maid ; with sword and spear her safety I served, till hilt and shaft were hewn from my hand. Wounded and shelterless was I — saw them murder the maid ; I fled from the rage of the foe — on the slaughter she rested slain. (With a look of painful fire at Sieglinde^ Now, asking woman, thou know'st why is not — Friedmund my name ! (He gets up and walks to the hearth. Sieglinde, deeply moved, turns pale and looks dotting HUNDING i^ery sullenly). I've heard of a bridleless breed, not holy it holds what others hail ; by men it is hated and me. To help a vengeance I hasted ; blood of my kindred from earth had called ; too late I came, and hardly am back when in house and hall I tread on track of the flying foe. My doors ward thee, Wolfing, to-day; till the dawn shelter they show ; a flawless sword will befit thee at sunrise ; by day be ready for fight, and pay thy debt for the dead. To Sieglinde, who, with anxious gesture, places herself between the two men. The Walkyrie. 95 Hence from the hall ! Loiter not here ! The night-drink brew within, and bide for me to bed. {^!^iegli>ide takes tkouxhifitlly a. drinking horn from the iable^ goes to a cupboard from which she takes spices, and turns towards the side-chamber; having reached the highest step by the door she turns once more and aims at Siegmund^^vho with suppressed rage stands quietly by the hearth and sees nothing but her — a long longing look with which, at last, she directs him meaningly and urgently to a spot in the ash-stem. Hunding, who notices her delay, drives her forth with a commanding gesture, whereupon, with the drink-horn and the lantern, she disappears through the doorway.) Hunding intakes his weapons from the tree). With weapons ward themselves men. I meet thee, Wolfing, to-morrow ; thou heard'st what I said — see to thyself! (//? goes with his weapons into the chamber.) SlEGMUND {alone— it has now become quite night; the room is only lighted by a faint fire in the hearth Siegmuttd sits down on the couch near the fire and broods fi)r some time in troubled silence). A sword, so swore me my father, should be near me in furthest need. Weaponless finds me a house of foes ; here to their hate in pledge I am held ; I saw a woman lordly and sweet, and gladness sets its dread in my soul ; — to her here my pulses pour, with the sway of sweetness she pulls — a husband holds her in might, who mocks ray weaponless hand. Walse ! Walse ! Where is thy sword ? g6 The Walkyrie. The steadfast sword, that in storm I would swing ! Breaks there not out of my breast the rage that at heart I bear ? {The Jire falls together ', from the sparks, as they spring up, a sharp light falls on the spot in the ash-stem which Siegllnde's look had pointed out, and where now 7nore plainly is seen the hilt of a sword.) What firmly gleams in the fitful glow ? How the blaze starts from the ash's stem ! The steady lightning strengthens its stare, — stays and laughs like a look. How the lordly light my heart has lit ! Is it a flash that her flowering face can have left here behind her at last, when from the hall she went ? {The Jire on the hearth begins gradually to go out.) Settled shadow shrouded my sight ; when the might of her look lighted on me, morning and warmth it awoke. High and happy the sun I beheld ; he filled with the light of his laughter my face, — till far he hid in the hills. Again, ere all was gone, he aimed an evening gleam for the ash's fading stem to answer in stately fire ; now falls the flower — the light allays — night in shade has shut me anew ; The Walkyrie. 97 deep in my bosom's darkness hides an unbrightening heat ! ( The fire has quite gone out ; complete night. The side-chamber is lightly opened ; Sieglinde, in a white garment, comes out and goes towards Siegmund.) Sieglinde. Sleep's! tliou, guest ? Siegmund. {^leaping up with sudden joy). Who seeks me so ? Sieglinde {with mysterious haste). It is I ; behold what I say 1 In heedless sleep is Hunding ; I set him a drink for his dreams. The night for thy safety thou need'st 1 Siegmund {yierily interrupting her). Safe makes me thy side ! Sieglinde. To a weapon let me lead thee — O were thy lot to win it, the highest hero lo I might hail thee, the man with the hand meant for its hilt. O take with heed what I tell thee ! By Hunding's kin was crowded the hall, to help at the wine of his wedding ; the woman he married, against her will wretches had given to wife. Drearly I sat aside from the drinkers ; a stranger strode to the board — 98 The Walkyrie. in a cloak of blue he was clad, so wide was his hat, that one of his eyes was hidden ; from its fellow's flash dreadly they faltered, when fell in their midst its unflinching might ; in me alone met was its light with sweet wildering woe, sorrow and salve at once. He gazed at me, and glared on the men, as he heaved a sword in his hands, and aimed it straight at the ash's stem, to the hilt hurried it in ; — he only should have the weapon, who hauled it from out the wood. Though most they made of their might in the work, not a man the weapon could move ;- guests have gathered and guests have gone, the strongest grasped at the steel — not an inch they started it out ; here still is settled the sword. So guessed I who was he that here had greeted my grief; I know as well for none but one he stuck the sword in the stem. O found I but now and near me his face, fared he this way to the friendless woman, the woe I have measured with merciless moans, the bonds that in shame and shade I have borne, — The Walkyrie. 99 sweetening vengeance swiftly would swallow ! At last lit on were all I have lost, at once would be won all I have wept for — found I the holy friend and felt him here at my heart ! SlEGMUND {emdraces her with /ire). So— free from thy sorrow makes thee the friend for weapon and woman meant ! Up from my breast blazes the oath that weds me all to thy worth. Whatever I hoped for, in thee I behold ; whatever failed me, in thee I have found ! Wounded thee wrong and wasted me woe — have I been hunted — with shame hast thou housed — hastening vengeance hails to me hither ! Loud I laugh to greet its delight, holding thee guarded and holy, bearing the blow of thy heart ! SlEGLINDE {siar/s in alarm and tears herself from hivt). Ha ! who went ? who was it came ? {^The lar^e door in the background has sprttng back and remains wide open I outside a splendid Sprintr night ; the full-moon shine^ in and flings its light on them both, so that they suddenly and plainly see each other.) SlEGMUND (in gentle ecstasy). No-one went — but one has come ; The Walkyrie. look how the Spring laughs in the hall ! {}Vith soft violence he draws her to himself on the couch.) Winter storms have waned at the wakening May, and mildly spreads. his splendour the Spring ; he buoys himself on bending breezes, wonders last along his way ; over field and forest floats his freshness, wide with laughter wakes his look. He sounds in boundless singing of buoyant birds, sweetening breath his bosom swells ; from his blood are warmed and wakened wildering blossoms, seed and shoot from his heart he sends. With winsome weapons' flash he forces the world ; winter and storm have waned at his steadfast war ; with dint of his dreadless strokes the stubborn doors he has daunted, whose hindering hinge withheld us from him. To find his sister he sets his flight, by Love was lured the Spring ; behind our hearts she deeply was hid ; now let her laugh to the light. The Walkyrie. loi oi The bride and the sister is free to the brother ; the walls are waste that held them away ; greeting together they shout as they go, for Spring has lighted on Love ! SlEGLINDE. Thou here art the spring I hungered and hoped for in withering winter's hold ; I hailed thee with holy dread in my heart, when thy look was first on me lifted. Friendly was nothing I found, far I felt what was nearest, unknown and nameless what most made its seat at my side ; at last clearly cam'st thou, and lo ere my eye from thee moved, my own it had made thee ; what I hid in my heart, all I am, dawned hke a sudden day to my sight ; with sound of a storm my ear was beset, when in fruitless frosty loneness at length on my friend I lit. (She hangs in tra-nsport on his neck and looks closely into his /ace,) SlEGMUND. O wildering sweetness ! Sorrowless woman ! SlEGLINDE {close to his eyes), O let me clasp thee and lock thee closely, 102 The Walkyrie. that long I may ponder the lordly light, whose blaze from thy face and forehead breaks, and so sweetly forces my sense ! SlEGMUND. The flooding moon makes thee on fire, deeply holds thee thy heaving hair ; why I am wild I learn from my look, that feeds unfilled on thy face. ■ SlEGLINDE (sweeps the hair back from his forehead and gazes at him with 'Wonder). How broad thou art and open of brow, how tangles the blood in thy temples its boughs ! I flinch at the sweetness that fills my sight — a wonder sends me its warning ; — though first it neared me to-night, thy face I knew before ! . SlEGMUND. In dreams of love thy like has loomed ; with burning sadness such I have seen ! SlEGLINDE. My face I read in the resting flood — and here I further behold it ; as once from the water it shone, show me my likeness thy looks ! SlEGMUND. In depth of my dream thy face to me dawned. The Walkyrie. 103 SlEGLINDE (^suddenly turning away her look), O Stay — let me be still and listen ; — in childhood a sound laughed to me so — but hold ! for lately I heard it give me again my shout, when it had shaken the woods. SlEGMUND. loveliest tones, aloud to me linger ! SlEGLINDE {^suddenly a^aiti searching his eyes). In thy glance's fire 1 gladdened before, when mutely the stranger's streamed upon me, till my sorrow was mild and sweet. By his dauntless look his daughter was led — I longed with his name to be near him — {.She stops, arid then proceeds softly,) Wehwalt canst thou be called ? SlEGMUND. No longer, since thy love I learned ; my bliss at last is unbounded ! SlEGLINDE. And is Friedmund not the name that befits thee ? SlEGMUND. Give me the name thou wert glad I should go by, and only thy gift I will own I I04 The Walkyrie. SlEGLINDE. Yet Wolfe thou callest thy father ? SlEGMUND. A wolf among fainting foxes ! But he, who as far flashed with his eyelight as launches the aim of thy look, for none but " Walse " was known. SlEGLINDE {beside herself) . Was Walse thy father, and fronts me a Wolsung, stuck he his sword for thy sake in the stem a name I have lit on by which to love thee ; Siegmund — lo is its sound ! Siegmund {^springs to the ste^n and seizes the sword-hilt.) Siegmund is it, and Siegmund I am as settles the sword I unflinchingly seize ! Walse forewarned me, in sorest woe near I should have it — I hold it now ! Want with its strongest wildest stress, love with its newest loudest need, burn me deep in the breast, drive me to deeds and death ! — Nothung ! Nothung my weapon I name. — • Nothung ! Nothung 1 Sundering sword ! The Walkyrie. T05 Bare me the shearing shine of thy blade, and sweep from thy sheath to me so ! (IVitA a mighty wrench he draws the sword oiU of the stem a7id shows it to Sieglindet who is seized with wonder arid joy.) Siegmund the Wolsung, woman, thou see'st ! For bride-gift this sword let him bring ; he well has won the rightfullest wife ; her wrongful roof at length he bereaves ; forth from here follow him far ; speed to the laughing house of the Spring, where saves thee Nothung the sword, since Siegmund to love thee has lived ! {He/olds her in his arms, to take her forth with him.) SlEGLINDE {in highest ecstasy). Siegmund art thou safely beside me, Sieglinde's longing has led thee at last, and so thy sister thou winnest at once with the sword ! Siegmund. Bride and sister be to thy brother — and blossom the Wolsungs' blood ! (He draws her to him with fiery force ; she sinks with a cry on his breast. The cnrtainfalls quickly.) io6 The Walkyrie. SECOND ACT. A wild 7'fgion of rocks, {Jn ike background a ravine slopes up front below and issues on a high ridge, from which the ground again sinks down- ivards towards the foreground.) ( IVotan, armed in warlike manner, and with his sjiear ; before him BrUnn- hilde, as Walkyrie, also fully armed,') WOTAN. To me with thy horse, mettlesome maid ! Soon will blaze of battle be seen ; Briinnhild' away to the strife, and stir the Wolsung to win ! Hunding leave I for him he delights ; to Walhall lies not his way. So fitly and fast ride to the fight ! Brunnhilde {shouting and springing from rock to rock up the height on the right). Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Hahei I Hahei ! Heiaho ! {she stops on a high point of rock, looks down into the ravine behind, and calls back to Wotatt^ For safety, father, see to thyself ; heed the storm that hitherward steers ; hunts thee Fricka thy wife — this way she reins her harness of rams. Hey I how she whirls the golden whip ; the luckless beasts unboundedly bleat ; The Walkyrie. 107 her wheels wildly she rattles, wrath is lit in her look. I fail at such a fight to be found ; more to my mind are the battles of men ! Now judge how the storm thou wilt stem ; I leave thee with joy in the lurch ! Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Hahei ! Hahei ! Hoyohei ! {^She has disappeared behind the height at the side, whiie Fricka, in a chariot drawn by i-wo rams, reaches the ridge ; there she quickly alights and -walks impetuously to Wotan in the foreground.) WOTAN (aj he sees her coming. The wonted storm, the wonted strife ! But here she steadfast beholds me. Fricka. Where in heights thyself thou hid'st away from sight of thy wife, lonelily I look for thee here, that with help thou may swear to uphold me. Wotan. What Fricka frets at let her unfold. Fricka. I have learned Handing's hurt ; aloud for vengeance he hailed, and as wedlock's warder 1 heard him well ; I vowed that sore should pay for their sin the mad mannerless pair, who put the husband to harm. H 3 io8 The Walkyrie. Befriend me meetly, that fast may their meed upon Siegmund and Sieglinde fall. WOTAN. What so dreadful was the deed they did by spell of the Spring ? The might of love had made them mad ; they bear not its wonder's blame ! Fricka.* Thou fittingly feign'st to be blind, but better is known to none that here, for wedlock's holiest word unbound and baffled, I hate them ! * I give here in full the original form of this scene as it was conceived before the composition of the tnusic. Fricka. Thou fittingly feign'st to be blind, but better is known to none how fierce a wrong on Fricka has fallen and hurts her at heart. WOTAN. Thou watchest but one thing ; I see another that sets it out of my sight. Fricka. I heed what always I aimed to uphold,' — the worshipped oath of wedlock ; who sins against it, he sickens my soul ; who harms it, he strikes at my heart. Wotan. Is wedlock so lightly thy word, where but fetters of love I can find ? The Walkyrie. 109 WOTAN. Unholy hold I the oath where love lent not his hand ; so from me deem no more of a deed, that with might shall foil what thou may'st not fancy ; for where fresh forces are stirring, I sting them freely to strife. Unholy hold I the oath where love lent not his hand. Weak is made a woman in worth, when holy thou holdest the way that Hunding went for a wife ! Fricka. If fierce force blindly and far wastes about us the world, what rightly shall bear the ruin's blame but Wotan's wildering rage ? Weakness thou wilt not shelter, and strength thou stay'st with thy shield ; mankind's madness and savage mood, murder and theft, are things of thy might ; I labour to see that high and holy something be left. Where men from warfare have weaned their mind, where wealth is walled that chafelessly weathers the withering storm of change, — I lurk and lightly watch. The wielding cord of a wounded wont I bind again to a band ; The Walkyrie. Fricka. Bear'st thou as boastworthy wedlock's breach, withhold not thy freedom — but have it holy that blood so should be blent by twins in unseemly bond. I falter at heart, my head is on fire ; bridally seizes brother on sister I When — was it a man should mate with the child of his mother ? with ruin beside me, I draw from it so the dew of holiest hope. When Hunding fought with a hand of force that my weakness could not ward, thou cam'st not to foil his freedom ; soon as he wiped his sin away by words of hallowing wedlock, Fricka with friendship beheld him, fast forgave and forgot his fault, and raised to shelter his right her shield. His deed at thy hand was unhindered, so cross not my calm to-day ! WOTAN. When put I a stay on the step of thy purpose, or stood in way of thy will ? Narrow the belt of binding knots, girdle what fits not together, feign peace, and fill thy pride over lying oaths of love ; The Walkyrie. i WOTAN. Here — haps it at last, and helps thee learn what is fair and fit, though thou never hast known it before. The love of the couple is clear to thy look, so trust my counsel for true ! If lasting bliss shall belong to thy blessing, with blameless laughter the lovers, Siegraund and Sieglinde, bless ! but from me deem no more of a deed, that wiih might shall foil what thou may'st not fancy ; for where fresh forces are stirring, I sting them freely to strife. Fricka. Bear'st thou as boastworthy wedlock's breach, withhold not thy freedom — but have it holy that blood so should be blent by twins in unseemly bond. I falter at heart, my head is on fire ; bridally seizes brother on sister ! When — was it a man should mate with the child of his mother ? WOTAN. Here — haps it at last, and helps thee learn what is fair and fit, though thou never hast known it before. Fricka. With heedless scorn behold'st thou my harm ? To reckless laughter has led thee my wrath .'' 112 The Walkyrie. * * Fricka {breaking out injierce anger). So is there an end of our godhood for ever, since thou thy guideless Wolsungs begottest ? The track tread I — strike I on truth ? The call of thy holy kin is unheeded ; Wilt thou mock the worth, thou mad'st with thy word ? Undo the worship that dwells in thy wife ? Unfettered god, how far wilt thou go ? Wilt thou scatter and waste the world whose laws thyself thou hast laid ? WOTAN. I wield, ere aught, what of old was wonted ; where forces stream and struggle, I fix the line of my labour ; whither it flows I lead the flood, and watch the fount from which it is fed ; in the strength of limb and of love I measure the right to live. The might that moulded the twins was mine ; the ways of love they learned in the womb ; unwittingly clasped they were born, to bridal unwittingly came. If sweet is to be the sway of thy blessing, now bless, with unhindered hallowing bent, Siegmund's and Sieglinde's bond. \At** continued in the text.'] The Walkyrie. iij away thou hurlest what once was hallowed ; the bands that thou boundest thyself thou hast broken, loosed with laughter the heavens' hold — for the cursed whim of a couple of taunting and worthless twins, thy own falsehood's unwarranted fruit ! Vainly I wail to thee wedlock and vow thou wert first thyself to unfix ! My open truth " was always betrayed ; where was a height and where was a hollow that long lacked the lust of thy look where to choose a change of delight and scath my love with the scorn ? Blankly myself I settled to bear it, when met thee for battle the blameful maidens thy lawless love had brought to the light, for thy wife still boasted such worth, that the Walkyries' band with Briinnhild' to boot, thy wish's bride, at my will to be guided thou gav'st. But now, that unwonted names thou hast wedded, as " Walse " fared hke a wolf in the forest ; now, that to fathomless shame thou hast fallen, of common mankind begotten a couple, sheer at the feet of the she-wolfs, litter at last I am flung ! 114 The Walkyrie. So follow the mood, measure it full, the betrayed may meetly be trampled ! WOTAN {cahnly). Thou would'st not take, were I to tell thee, a truth thou can'st never know until its deed has been done. Wonted things are the way of thy thought ; but what was never before I now fancy to wake ! To one thing hearken ! A hero we wait, unshackled by gods with their shelter and loose in the grasp of their law, fitly forward the work to befriend, which, though by gods it is wanted, the hand of a god may not help. Feicka, With depth of dealing seek not to daunt me ! What feat, that hands of heroes are fit for, could be forbidden their gods — by whose gift alone they can live ? WOTAN. Is their own mettle not meet for aught ? Fricka. Who blew its might into men ? Who lighted its blaze in their look ? The strength they show shoots from thy stay, and at thy stinging struggle they up ; The Walkyrie. ns thou — only hast urged them, as bears me out thy own boast. With new untruth thou wilt now betray me, with tricks afresh thou triest to foil me ; but here this Wolsung to win never hope ; in his behold I thy aim,— at thy will only he works. WOTAN. In need his saver was none but himself; my hand hallowed him not. Fricka. No further fence him now ; have back the sword that thou sentest him ! WoTAN. The sword ? Fricka. So — the sword, the stormy unstaggering sword, that the god has given his son. WOTAN. Siegmund won it himself in bis want. Fricka. From Wotan, as well as the sword, was the want ; deem'st thou I know not — when, day and night, in dread I was hard at thy heels ? I r6 The Walkyrie. Whose strength for him stuck the sword in the stem ? With the holy hilt who filled his hand ? Thou can'st not count it as aught but thy craft, that warned him where it was kept ! {IVoian Ttiukes a gesture ofrage^ With bondsmen their lord may not battle, the freeman but lashes the faulty ; with Wotan's might I should worthily war ; but Siegmund as vassal I seize. {JVoiau turns gloomily away.) Who, life and body, lies at thy bidding, thy worshipped wife wilt thou bend to his will ? Shall I be left in shame to his laughter, a spur to the bold, a spoil for the bad ? So will my husband not have it, my godhood more safely he guards ! WOTAN {gloovtily). Say, what seek'st thou ? Fricka. Give from the Wolsung ! WoTAN (with muffled voice). His way let him go. Fricka. But thou — shelter him not, when vengeance shouts on his name. The Walkyrie. 117 WOTAN. I — shelter him not. Fricka. Lean not on falsehood, look in my face ! The Walkyrie turn from him too ! WOTAN. The Walkyrie freely fare ! Fricka. Nowise ! To thy will she is bound in her work ; forbid her from Siegmund's side ! WoTAN i^with violent inward struggle). I never can slay him ; he found my sword ! Fricka. Unhallow the weapon, or hurl it in halves ! Fenceless behold him the foe ! {She hears from the height BrUnnhilde's joyous IValkyrie-cry, who appears at this moment on the rocky path to the right.) To meet thee thy hardy maid hither comes with her cry. Wotan {hollowly to himself). I had her for Siegmund to horse ! Fricka. Of thy holy wife's unheeded worship be shelter here her shield ! With laughter of men and loss of our might, low would our godhood be gone, were not high to-day and wholly my due upheld by thy mettlesome maid. ii8 The Walkyrie. The Wolsung's end is my welfare ; betides me from Wotan the oath ? WOTAN. (/» terrible dejection and inward rage throwing kiinselfvpon a seat o/rock). Take the oath ! {As Briinnhilde /rotn the height caught sight of Fricka she suddenly ceased her song, a7id has now led her horse by the bridle quietly and slowly down the rock ; she is hiding him in a cave, as Fricka, turning bctck to her chariot, passes by her.) Fricka (;to Briinnhilde). War-father, for thee waits ; from him thou learnest how he has chosen the lot ! (She mottnts the chariot and drives quickly away to the background.) Brunnhilde {walks with wondering and anxious air to JVotan, who, leaning back on the rocky seat with his head on his hand, is sunk in gloomy thought). Ill fear I ends the fight, the lot is laughter for Fricka ! — Father, what has thy child to hear of? Wild I behold thee and wistful ! Wotan {lets his arm drop powerlessty and his head sink in his bosom). My own fetter on me falls ; all are freer than I am ! Brunnhilde. What sickens thy heart ? When saw I thee so ? Wotan {lifting his arm in wild outbreak), O holiest shame ! O hatefuUest harm ! The Walkyrie. 119 Gods'-need ! Gods'-need ! Unending rage ! Unresting ill ! No sorrow like mine can be suffered ! Brunnhilde (/« alarm drops her spear and helmet^ and with loving solicitude sinks at IVotan's/eet). Father ! Father ! What has befallen? How thou chillest with terror thy child ! With trust in me, O meet my truth ; see, Briinnhild' beseeches ! {She lays affectionately and anxiously her head and hands upon his knees and bosom.) WOTAN {looks lonx into her eyes and then strokes her hair; as if coining to hintselj out o/deep thought^ he begins at length with very low ifoice). Were I to speak it, would it not spoil the hasping hold of my will ? Brunnhilde {answering him in equally low tones). To Wotan's will thou talkest, tellest thou me of thy mind ; what would she be, were not Briinnhild' thy will ? WOTAN. What none may in words from me witness, by name be always out of knowledge ; the ear thou hear'st with is but my own. — ( ^ith voice still more suppressed and shy, while he looks unalteringly into Briinnhilde^s eyes. ) When love its young delight had allayed, I longed in my mind for might, I20 The Walkyrie. and worked, in reinless reach of my will, to win myself the world. Witlessly trod I ways of untrueness, hallowed by bargains what hid a harm ; lied and misled me had Loge, who soon from sight I lost. But from love myself not long I could sever ; in my might I moved to its sweetness ; the son of night, the secret Nibelung, Alberich, swerved from its sway ; he cursed upon love and caught by his curse the glancing gold of the Rhine, and reached to measureless might. The ring that he wrought I craftily wrested ; but back to the Rhine I bade it not roll ; with it I paid for the walls of Walhall, the bulwark that giants had built me, from which I now bridled the world. Who weens of all that ever was — Erda, the wise unwearying Wala, reined me away from the ring, warned me of fall without fathom. Of her mind to unseal me more I besought her, but wordlessly went she from sight. Then my mood in its mirth misgave ; to know was the need of the god ; to the womb of the world led me my way, The Walkyrie. 121 with spell of love to the Wala I sped, wildered her wisdom's pride, till she paid with words my prayer. Knowledge she helped me with now ; a pledge I planted in her ; the wisest woman that breathes, to Wotan Briinnhilde bore. With eight sisters I reared thee, and sought in you Walkyries ways to foil what the Wala unfolded there was to fear — a fall unbefitting to Walhall. That strong for strife might find us the foe, heroes I bade you to bring me. Whom under our harness we always had hampered, the men in whose hearts we had hindered the might, whom in treacherous bargains' bands we had tangled, abated and filled with fettering blindness, you now were to sting to noise and to struggle, their strength feed with unstinting fight, that troops of trusty warmen might hail me in Walhall's hall. Brunnhilde, Thy behest left we unheeded ? Many to meet thee I've led. What saddens thee since we have worked for thee so ? Wotan. A further fear ; tii The Walkyrie. follow me well, — the Wala gave me its ground ! From Alberich's host the end overhangs us ; in hate without name holds me the Niblung ; I heed him not now with his night and his numbers — by my heroes safe I were held. But if once the ring again were to reach him would Walhall's walls be unrooted ; he who cursed at love — and he alone — helped by runes of the ring, would wreak an unending harm on all that is high ; the heroes' hearts from me he would haste ; my host he would force to help him in fight, and 'mid their strength at me he would strive. Restlessly set I myself to fence the ring from his finger ; the last alive of the giants whose labour with woeful gold I guerdoned once, Fafner, broods on the wealth he felled his brother to win. My need was again to get from him now the meed I had given ; but my hand from its blow is held by my bargain ; mightless with him my mettle it makes. Such are the bands that belt and swathe me ; The Walkyrie. 123 born was of bargains my strength, but to bargains still I must bend. To work what foils me befits but one, a hero whose head I never have hallowed ; who, far from the god and free from his gift, blindly might, unbidden by me, for need alone and with means he knew, further the deed I must leave undone, that not my word had named, though nearest it was to my wish. Who, in strife against my godhood steads me, so friendly a foe O where shall I find, how shape him, without my shelter on him, in his dauntless dealing unmeasuredly dear, how make him other than all I am, to work with his might whSt I may but will? O shame for a god ! shelterless grief ! 1 see to sickness always myself at last wherever I labour ! I waste for what shall be other — no way what is other I win — unfetter himself must the free-man — slaves are the best I can breed ! Brunnhilde. But the Wolsung, Siegmund, works of himself ! I 3 124 The Walkyrte. WOTAN. Wildly swept I the woods beside him ; boldly against the gods' counsel kindled his bent — now from their hate to save him, nothing he has but the sword he lit on by gift and love of a god. Myself to catch, has served me my cunning ! How lightly unfolded Fricka the lie ! To farthest shame she fathomed my soul, and her will to work I must suffer ! Brunnhilde. No longer is Siegmund's the lot ? WOTAN {breaking out in wild pain of despair), I had hands on Alberich's ring — ran with greed at the gold ! The curse, that I fled from, fast to me clings ;• — what I love must so be forsaken, murdered what most I lean on, met with betrayal his trust in me ! Mock me no more then, masterful might, worship, and godhood's glittering woe ! Asunder break the bulwark I set ! Here done is my work ; my hopes are dwindled to one— the end — the end ! {He pauses in thoughts) The Walkyrie. i2| And on the end is bent Alberich ! Through now I fathom the thickest thought and wildest word of the Wala : — " When the Hghtless foe of love fiercely sows for a son, the fall of the gods will fast begin ! " The Niblung lately I learned of in news that the dwarf had worsted a woman, whose gift was due to his gold. The load of hate hides in her lap, the will of spite spreads in her womb ; the wonder was left the loveless workman ; but the god, who wooed as he wanted, has never begotten his need ! (IVith rage.) So swallow my blessing, Nibelung-son ! What goads me to sickness I give thee to seize on — my godhood's shadowy show, to grind in thy hunger and hate ! Brunnhilde {in alarm). What charge hast thou at hand for thy child ? Wot AN (pitierly). Fight wisely for Fricka, aid for her wedlock and oath ! The choice she made is master of mine ; what might is in Wotan's wishes ? 126 The Walkyrie. What is free my will cannot fashion- for Fricka's bondman battle thy best ! Brunnhilde. Woe ! Begone from the word again ! Thou lov'st Siegmund ; thy soul's delight I lead to, ward I the Wolsung. WOTAN. Siegmund hast thou to slaughter, and Hunding befriend in the fight ! See to thyself, be steadfast and swift \ make of thy boldness, to meet him, the most ; a sure sword swings Siegmund — seek not for fear in his face ! Brunnhilde. Whom thou hast led me wholly to love, whom thy heart so dearly for dauntlessness hallowed — against him shall wield me never thy wildering word. Wot AN. Ha ! darest thou ? Holds thee no dread? What art thou else than the blindly bending way of my will ? Through my freedom with thee waned I so far as to seem no more than a mock for my slaves ? Reck'st thou, child, of my wrath .? The Walkyrie. 127 Bethink what it were, if once my thunder should fall thy way with its flash ! I wrap within my bosom the rage that to terror and waste tosses a world that laughed to me once for delight — woe to him that it hits ! Scath he wins for his scorn ! So heed me now, hinder me not, but do the deed of my will ; — slaughter Siegmund ! Such be the Walkyrie's work ! i,He storms/orth and disappears amon^ the rocks on the left.) BRtJNNHILDE {^remains a long time stupefied and frightened). When saw I War-father so, though strife ere here his heart has stirred ? {She stoops down troubled and takes up ker weapons, with which she artns herself again. ) Why should bow me my weapons' weight ? With my heart in the fray, it hardly were felt ! The fight is foul I seek with feet so slow ! {She considers, and then sighs.) Woe, my Wolsung ! In sorest want must my trueness untruly forsake thee ! {She turns towards the background and perceives Siegniund and Sieg- linde, as they fnountfrom the ravine : for a jnontent she observes them, as ihey approach, and then turns into the cavern to her horse, so that she is completely hidden from the spectators sight.) 128 The Walkyrie. i^Sie^^muitd and Sieglinde enter. She goes hurriedly in front ,* lie is tyyin° to restrain her.) SlEGMUND. Hold from thy haste ; rest thyself here ! Sieglinde. Further ! Further ! SlEGMUND {holds her with gentle force). Not further now ! Thou sweetest woman, await ! From love's most swooning delight thou wert swept, with reckless speed thou sprang'st from my reach, I hardly have reined thee here ; by wood and field, over waste and way, with lips of dumbness, drov'st thou along ; no word to stay thee had weight. {.She stares wildly before iter.) Wait now awhile ; speak to me once — finish this speechless fear ! See, thy brother seizes his bride ; on Sieg round's breast thou art safe ! {He has without her notice led her to the rocky seat.) Sieglinde {looks with growing transport into Siegmund's face ; then passionately embraces his rteck. At length she starts up with sudden terror, white .Siegmund hastily seizes her). Away ! Away ! Fly from the foulness ! Unholily holds thee my arm ! The Walkyrie. 129 Unblessed for bridal my body must be ; death becomes it, dread thou the corpse ! The wind whirl it afar, that fixed its untruth on the true ! — While he was holding her fast, while happy delight she found, while wholly loved her the man, who wholly had moved her to love, — in her gladness's highest holiest glimpses, that passed her senses and pierced to her soul, — horror and shame of unhallowing shackles went like a flame through the warrantless woman whom long a husband had held, whose wife she was without love ! Count her as cursed, hold her not close ! The bearer am I of boundless blame ! Thy faultless manhood I must not follow ; unmeet is thy light for me to be left in ; shame I shed on my brother, his bridal friendship I foul ! SlEGMUND. What shame reached thee I shall with blood of the wronger blot ! So hasten no farther ; hold till he find us ; here — falls he before me : if Nothung now but gnaws his heart, vengeance was hailed not in vain ! 130 The Walkyrie. SlEGLINDE (siaris up and listens). Horns ! and hearken — shouts I can hear ! Screams the risen wrath to the sky ; aloud it yonder yells in the land. Hunding has slackened his heedless sleep ; kindred and hounds he calls on to help him ; heartily pricked howls the pack and barks high into heaven over wedlock's wasted bond ! {She laughs as if beside herself I then shrinks with terror. ) Where stay'st thou, Siegmund ? See I thee still ? Burningly loved and lightening brother ! Let thy glance's star still again on me linger ; keep not away from the worthless woman's kiss ! — Hark! O hark ! It is Hunding's horn ! And his pack with mouths of murder pants. No sword daunts his besetting dogs ; — ■ fling it forth, Siegmund ! Siegmund, — where art thou ? Ha, so — I see it all — and sears me the sight ! — Hounds are flashing their fangs for thy flesh ; light they make of thy lordly mien ; The Walkyrie. 131 by the feet they take thee with fastening teeth — thou fall'st— asunder is sent the sword ; — what strikes the ash ? Why sinks the stem? — Brother ! My brother ! Siegmund — ha ! — {With a cry she sinks fainting into Siegmund^s arms.) Siegmund. Sister ! Beloved ! {He listens for her breath and convinces himself that she is still alive. He lets her slip dowmvards — so that, as he now himself sits down, she rests with her head on his lap. In this position they both remain till the end of the follo'wing scene.) {A long silence during which Siegmund ivith tender anxiety bends over Sieglinde and plants a long kiss on her forehead.) {Brjinnhilde, leading her horse by the bridle, has slowly and solemnly walked forward out of the cave and stands now at a Utile distance aside front Siegmund. She carries her shield and spear in one hand, leans with the other on her horse's neck, and thus, in earnest silence, for some time watches Siegm-u?id.) Brunnhilde. Siegmund ! See'st thou me ? I — lead thee hence ere long. Siegmund {raises his look to her). Who fronts me, say, with so sweet and smileless a face ? Brunnhilde. Whom death has hailed as his I draw to ; who beholds my look, he hastes from the light of life. Where awaits him the fight I find the warman ; who meets with me, to fall fixed him my mind. 132 The Walkyrie. SlEGMUND {iooks her long in the /ace, then drops his head in thought, and at last with solemn earnestness turns again to her). Where leav'st thou at last the hero whom hence thou leadest ? Brunnhilde. To Walfather, who for thee waits, I fetch thee away ; to Walhall follow me ! SlEGMUND. In Walhall's light Walfather find I alone ? Brunnhilde. The fallen heroes' friendly hands will hold thee long with high greeting and love. SlEGMUND. Find I in Walhall Walse, the Wolsung's father ? Brunnhilde. His father's face shall the Wolsung find. SlEGMUND. Greets me a woman gladly as well ? Brunnhilde. Wish-maidens wait in the midst ; Wotan's daughter deals thee sweetly the drink. TTie Walkyrie. 133 SlEGMUND. High art thou ; holy I owji thee, O Wotan's-child ; but truth I charge thee tell me ! The bride and the sister will be with the brother? To clasp Siegmund will Sieglinde come ? Brunnhilde. Life of earth she is not loosed from ; Sieglind' not there Siegmund will see ! Siegmund. So — greet for me Walhall, greet for me Wotan, hail for me Walse and all the heroes — hail toa the matchless fresh wish-maidens — for now I follow thee not. Brunnhilde. Who gazed on the Walkyrie's withering glance, with her has he to go ! Siegmund. Where Sieglind', for bliss or sorrow abides, bound is Siegmund beside her ; thy look has not put my face to paleness ; it pulls me not from the place 1 Brunnhilde. With life in thy limbs at force thou may'st laugh ; 134 T^he Walkyrie. who fights with death is a fool ; for him to claim thee came I here. SlEGMUND. What hero to-day shall hew me down ? Brunnhilde. Hunding fells thee in fight. SlEGMUND. With death from him thou wilt hardly daunt me ; cam'stthou in hope here of a corpse, his it fits thee to have ; for whole is my faith in his fall. Brunnhilde {shaking her head). Thine, Wolsung, thus thou art warned — thine was at last the lot. SlEGMUND. See'st thou this sword ? Who sent it me, he made me safe ; I think no more of thy threats ! Brunnhilde {strongly raising her voice) . Who dealt thee the sword, now seeks he thy death — and the spell he lent it is sped 1 SlEGMUND {impetuously). Soft, and wreck not the slumberer's rest 1 {Jiie hends, vjilh «« outburst of griefs tenderly over Sieglindti) The Walkyrie. 135 Woe ! Woe ! Thou sweetest at once and saddest and surest of women ! In weapons against thee gathers the world, and he who alone is thy stay, for whom thou withstood'st it alone — with all its shield shall his arm not shade thee, — forsake thee so far in the fight ? — Ha ! shame to him, who behind his sword, so dooms me, for victory, death ! Fall if he makes me, I fare not to Walhall — Hella fetter me fast ! Brunnhilde {moved). So worthless deem'st thou undying welfare ? Nought is thy want but the woman now, whose failing weight so faintly lies in thy lap ? Thou yearnest nowhere beyond ? SlEGMUND {bitterly looking up to her) . How sweet and young thou seemest to sight ; but cold and hard calls thee my heart ! Would'st thou but mock me, move on thy way, thou mean, unwomanly maid ! But must thou be witness to woe of mine, my harm shall gladden thee here, and my grief shall heal the greed of thy heart \-^ 136 The Walkyrie. but on Walhall's chary blisses I charge thee waste not a breath ! Brunnhilde (with increasing interest). The need I behold that gnaws at thy heart ! I feel for the hero's holiest fear — Siegmund, thy wife to me leave ) she safe shall live at my side ! Siegmund. No other than I in her life shall ever uplift herj if fixed is my fall, I shall slay her first in her sleep ! Brunnhilde. Wolsung ! Hark to me ! Wild are thy words ; to save her I plead for the pledge's sake that so sweetly with her thou hast placed ! Siegmund {drawing his sword). This sword — that was truthlessly sent to the true — this sword — that forsakes me in face of the foe — help if it fails in with him — befriends me with her to the full ! (.Pointing the sword at Sieglinde.) Two lives with a laugh to thee turn ; — strike them, Nothung, hungering steel ! Bite, with a stroke, at both I Tfie Walkyrie. 137 Brunnhilde (i« an impetuous storm 0/ sympathy). Withhold, Wolsung, hark to my word ! Sieglind' shall live — and Siegmund leave her not lone ! My mind is made ! The lots I master — so for Siegmund blessing and battle I save. iTke sound of horns is heard from the distant background.) Hear'st thou his horn ? The foe is at hand ! Trust, as thou swingest the sword, in its truth ; staunch is the steel in thy grasp, and the Walkyrie guards thee well ; so hail, Siegmund, happiest hero ! At the fight I shall further behold thee ! i^Ske storms away aTid disappear s with her horse in a side-hcllow to the right. Siegmund., joyful and uplifted, looks after her. ) {The stage has gradually become dark; heavy storm-clouds sink down over the background and gradually and completely veil the walls of rock, the ravine, and the high ridge. From the distance on all sides is heard the cry of trumpets, 'which, during what follows, sound gradually nearer.) Siegmund {betiding over Sicgllnde). Sleep its spell has sweetly spread, her heart to soothe from harm ; when the Walkyrie came to my side, was the kindly slumber her work? Deemed she the whirl of the swords a suffering woman would daunt ? Lifeless looks she, and yet she lives ; a laughing dream has lightened her dread.— {Fresh trumpet-cries^ 138 The Walkyrie. Be sound in thy sleep, till the fight be past and peace thou wake to find ! {^He lays her softly on the rocky bank, kisses her dro7v, and then, after repeated trwnpet-cries, goes off,) Who warns me so loud, let him beware ; here shall he draw wholly his due ; Nothung's now is the debt ! {He hastens iowanls the background, and at once disappears on the ridge in the dark storm- clond.') SlEGLINDE {^dreaming'). But that my father were back ! In the forest he fares with the boy. Mother ! Mother ! My heart's amiss ; — not mild and still is the strangers' meaning ! — Blasts of blackness — smothering smoke — fiery tongues and fingers I feel— the building burns — be with me, brother ! Siegmund ! Help me ! strong liglitnings flash through the clouds ; a terrible thunder-clap wakes Sieglinde ; she starts sttddenly up.) Siegmund ! Ha (^She stares rottnd her with increasing fear ; nearly the whole stage is veiled with black storm-clouds ; continued lightning and thunder. From all sides the horns sound nearer and Clearer.) Hunding's {.voice in the background— Jrom the ridge), Wehwalt ! Wehwalt ! Stay for my stroke ! Stand, or my hounds shall withhold thee ! The Walkyrie. 139 Siegmund's {voice Jrojnfurtker in tJie backgrowtd—out of the ravine). Where hast thou hid, that I left thee behind ? Rest, and let me reach thee ! SlEGLINDE {whv listens in terrible a^tation). Hunding — Siegmund — here I should see them ! Hunding's {voice). Enough, thou warrantless wooer ; Fricka finish thee now ! Siegmund's {voice now also on the ridge). Still counts me unweaponed thy coward's wit ? Fright me with women — but fight as well — or Fricka leaves thee unfenced ! Behold ; firom the steadfast stem of thy house unsheathed I strongly the sword with its blade to strike for thy blood ! {A Jlashfor a moment lightens the ridge on which Hnnding and Siegmund are now seen fighting.) SlEGLINDE (ivith all her strength). You men ! No further ! Murder me first ! {She ruslus towards the ridge ; a bright light, breaking from the right over the fighters, suddenly dazzles her so strongly that she turns aside as if blinded. In the light Brilnnhilde appears fioating over Siegmund and covering him with her shield.) Brunnhilde's {voice). \Vound him, Siegmund ! Safe is the weapon ! K 2 1 40 The Walkyrie. i^As Sieg-hiund is lifting his ann for a deadly stroke at Hnndingf a glowing red light breaks from, tlte left through the clouds, in which Wotan aj>pears standing over Hunding and stretching his spear across against Sie^mimd.) Wotan's (voice). Sink from the shaft ! In shivers the sword ! (^Bn'innhilde, in terror, has fallen hack before Wotan with her shield] Sieginund's sword breaks on the outstretched sfiear; Hunding drives his sivord into his undefended breast, Sieginund falls to the ground. Sieglinde, •who hears his last breath, with a shriek drops as if lifeless to the earth.) {With Siegtnund s fall the light on both sides has disappeared; thick darkness lies in the clouds up to the front ; in it Brilnnhilde is indistinctly seen as, in sudden haste, she turns to Sieglinde^ Brunnhilde. To horse, that safe I may have thee ! She catches Sieglinde up to her on her horse that is standing close to the side-hollow, and immediately disappears with her.) ( The clouds are at once divided in the middle, so that Hunding is clearly seen drawing his sword out of the fallen Siegmund s breast. Wotan, sjirrounded with cloud, stands behind him upon a rock, leaning upon his spear and painfully gazing at Siegmund^s body.) Wotan {after a short silence, tur7ied towards Hunding). Afar, slave ! Fall before Fricka ; speak that by Wotan's spear is well her vengeance worked. — Go !— Go !— {At the contemptuous ludve of his hand Hunding sinks dead to the ground^ Wotan {suddenly breaking out in terrible anger'). But — Briinnhilde ! Woe to her wickedness ! Fearful be the boon of her fault, or fail my horse of her flight ! (He disappears with lightning and thunder. The curtain falls quickly:) The Walkyrie. 141 THIRD ACT. On the top of a rocky height. {On the right a fir-ivood hounds the scene. On tfie left the entrance to a rocky cavern^ which forms a natural hall ; nl>ove it the rock climbs to its highest point. Towards the back the Prospect is quite open', rocks of greater and /ess height Jorin the bordir of the precipice^ lohich—as is to be assumed— slopes steeply down to the back- ground. Detached clonds, as if driven by a stonn, sweep past the rocky edge.) {The ■names of the eight Walkyries who — beside Brilnnhilde — appear in this scene, are : Gerhilde, Ortlinde, Waltraute, Sch-.vertleite, Helmwige, Siegrune, Grinigerde, RossTveisse.) (Gerhilde, Ortlinde, tVaitraute, and Schwertleite are stationed on the point of rock at and over the cavern ; they are in full armour^ Gerhilde {JiigJiest of all and turned towards the background). Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Helmwige, here I Hither thy horse ! {The gleam of lightning breaks out in a passing cloud; «. Walkyrie on horseback appears in it ; over her saddle hangs a slain warHor.) Helmwigf/s {voice from without). Hoyotoho I Hoyotoho ! Ortlinde, Waltraute, and Schwertleite {calling to her as she approaches). Heiaha ! Heiaha ! C The cloud with the Walkyries appearance has vanished behind tlie wood on the right.) Ortlinde {calling into the wood). By Ortlinde's filly fasten him up ; graze shall ray Gray and thy Bay there together ! Waltraute (in like jjianner). Who hangs at thy saddle ? 142 The Walkyrie. Helmwige {cojfting out oj the wood). Sintolt the Hegeling ! SCHWERTLEITE. Forth with the Bay, and bind him afar ! Ortlinde's warman is Wittig the Irming ! Gerhilde ihas come down a little neaj'er). Unfailing foes they always were found ! Ortlinde {^starts up and runs into the wood). With his heels at my filly too fierce is thy horse ! SCHWERTLEITE AND GeRHILDE {laugh aloud). The heroes left their hate to the horses ! Helmwige [^calling back into the wood). Steady my Bay, there ! Stir not the stable ! Waltraute ipn the look-out in Gerhilde' s place at the highest poini). Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho-! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Siegrune, here ! What hindered thee so ? {S iegrune, in the same manner as Helmwige bejore^ passes by to the wood.) Siegrune's {voice Jrojn the right). Work was rife ! But await me the rest ? .The Walkyrie. 143 The Walkyries. Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! (Siegrune has dhapf fared behind the wood. From the depth are heard two voices together^ Grimgerde and Rossweisse {from below) , Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Waltraute. Grimgerd' and Rossweisse ! Gerhilde. Together they ride. {.Ortlinde lias come out of the wood with Helinwige and Siegnine who lias just arrived; all three beckon do7vitwards front the edge of the rock behind.) Ortlinde, Helmwige, and Siegrune. Be greeted, you gallopers ! Rossweiss' and Grimgerde ! All the other Walkyries. Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Heiaha ! Heiaha ! (/« tf cloud gleaming with lightnings which comes up from below and disappears behind the wood, are seen Grimgerde and Rossweisse also on horseback and each -with a slain warrior over her saddle^ Gerhilde. To wood with the runners for bait and rest ! Ortlinde {.calling into the wood) . Farther set the fillies asunder, until our heroes' hatred is tamed ! £44 The Walkyrie. Gerhilde {while ike others laugh). The heroes' grudge was hard on the Gray ! {Grimserde and Rossiveisse enier/rom ihe wood, ) The Walkyries. Welcome ! Welcome ! SCHWERTLEITE. Kept you coupled your way ? Grimgerde. No mate we dreamed of, we met but to-day. ROSSWEISSE. If all have alighted, why linger we idle ? For Walhall quickly we'll make, Wotan with quarry to meet ! Helmwige. Eight are we only, wanting is one. Gerhilde. With the whiling Wolsung Briinnhild' has waited. Waltraute. Till her we have greeted, go we not hence ; fierce would Walfather's welcome be found, hailed we his face without her 1 Siegrune ipti the point of rock whence she is looking ou£). Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Behold ! Behold ! At hghtning speed spurs Briinnhild' along. The I Valkyrie. 145 The Walkyries ijmrryinff to the rock-point'). Heiaha ! Heiaha ! Briinnhilde ! Hey ! Waltraute. To the wood she steers her staggering horse. Grimgerde. How Grane groans with the reckless ride ! Rossweisse. So wild never was Walkyrie's wayfare ! Ortlinde. What sits at her saddle ? Helmwige. No hero it seems ! SlEGRUNE. With a woman she hies ! Gerhilde. How happed she on her ? Schwertleite. No greeting sound gives she her sisters ! Waltraute. Heiaha ! Briinnhilde ! Hear'st thou no bit ? Ortlinde. Lend her a hand as she leaps from horseback ! {perhiye and Helmwige hurry into the wood.) 146 The Walkyrie. ROSSWEISSK. To ground the steadfast Grane stumbles ! {^Sicgnme and Waltratite foUo-m the oihertivo.) Grimgerde. From the saddle wildly swings she the woman. The other Walkyries {hastening to the wond). Sister ! Sister ! Why is it so ? ^All the Walkyries return to the stage ; wit/i them comes Brilnnhilde supporting and leading in Sieglijide.) Brunnhilde {breathless). Save me, and help in sorest harm ! The Walkyries. From whence art thou here in wildering haste ? A fit so headlong is flight ! Brunnhilde. I fly, who had never ere now to flee 1 War-father follows my wake ! The Walkyries {in great alarm). Safe are thy senses ? Speak to us ! Say ! Behind is War-father ? Hunts he thy heels ? Brunnhilde {anxiously). O sisters, look from the soaring ledge ! The \ Valkyrie. 147 Watch to northwards if Walfather nears ! {Ortiinde and ll^altrante spring higher up to look out.) Say, is he in sight ? Ortlinde. A storm of thunder from northward steers. Waltraute. Steeply aloft its clouds are stowed. The Walkyries. War-father hies on his holy horse ! Brunnhilde. The raging hunter behind me who rides, he nears, he nears from north ! Save me, sisters ! Ward this woman ! The Walkyries. What woman behold we ? Brunnhilde. Hear me in hurry ! Sieglind' I bring — Siegmund's sister and bride ; down on the Wolsungs has Wotan driven his whip ;— the brother bid he Briinnhild' to-day forsake to his death ; but Siegmund sheltered she with her shield, in spite of the god, who galled him instead with his spear. 14S The Walkyrie. Siegniund fell ; but I flew with the woman far ; her to save I hither have swept ; and it seemed beside your help might sway his hate from my head. The Walkyries [Jv the greatest consterncitioti). Unguided sister ! Forgot'st thou so ? Sorrow ! Sorrow ! Briinnhilde, sorrow ! Unbehoveful held Briinnhilde War-father's holy behest ? Waltraute {frOTii ike height). Nearer draws it like night from the north. Ortlinde {in like vianner). Hither streams unhindered the storm. The Walkyries {turned towards the background). Wildly whinnies Walfather's horse, snorts and snuffs with his heat ! Brunnhilde. Harm to the woman, when Wotan is here ; he wars with unflinching flame at the Wolsungs. — Will none of you help me now with a horse, to have her widely away ? The Walkyrie. 149 The Walkyries. Shall we fall from our father as well ? Brunnhilde. Rossweisse, sister ! Lend me thy runner ! Rossweisse. From Walfather never in flight he was known. Brunnhilde. Helmwige, fail not ! Helmwige. My father I follow. Brunnhilde. Waltraute ! Gerhilde ! Give me my way 1 Siegrune ! Ortlinde ! See me beseech ! Be true to me, who trusted you much ; let not this woman be lost ! Sieglinde (w^ff hitherto has stared darkly and coldly before her, as Bn'innhilde sJiarply einbraccs her — tts if to protect her). No sorrow shall meet thee for me ; death I dreadlessly seek ! Who bid thee bear me here from the battle ? In storm O would I had stayed a stroke from the searching weapon of Siegmund's wound, that life no longer than his might last 1 Far from Siegmund ? 150 The Walkyrie. Forth from his side ? In death shall the dream of it be darkened ! — Make me not curse thee, maid, for thy kindness — to my prayer be holy and sweet — plunge with thy sword to my heart ! Brunnhilde. Let not, woman, his love be wasted ! Live for the pledge that he placed in thy life ; a Wolsung lies in thy womb ! SlEGLINDE if! violently startled ; then suddenly her/ace is lighted tip with lofty joy). Bring me to shelter ! My babe for me shield ! Fold me, you maidens, in fathomless fence ! {A terrible storm rises in the background ; approaching thunder.) Waltraute i^frovi the height). The storm is at hand. Ortlinde (/« like vianner). Hence ere it strike ! The Walkvries. Forth with the woman, if Wotan she fear ; the Walkyries dare not ward her from death ! SlEGLINDE ion her knees to Brilnnhilde), Save me, O maid ! Forsake not the mother The Walkyrie. igi Brunnhilde {•with quick decision). Away like a lightning, O woman, alone ! I — rest to abide the reach of his bursting wrath ; with me I hinder him here in its might, till safe from his search thou art made. SlEGLINDE. Tell me where I shall turn to ! Brunnhilde. Which of you sisters eastward has swept ? SlEGRUNE. Away to eastward widens a wood, where Fafner withholds the Niblungs' forfeited hoard. SCHWERTLEITE. The shape of a worm- wears he for shelter, and in a hole has heed upon Alberich's hoop. (iRIMGERDE. Not a home it were for a helpless woman. Brunnhilde. But round from Wotan's wrath walls her rightly the wood ; the god mistrusts it and treads not its ground. Waltraute {from the heighf). Wildly Wotan rides to the rock. 152 The Walkyrie. The Walkyries. Briinnhild', the noise of his nearness abounds ! Brunnhilde {pointing out the ivay to Sieglinde), Off before him, and fare to the east ! Match to thy burdens the might of thy mood — hunger and thirst, hardness and thorn ; laugh — when thy need most hvingly gnaws ! For slight what now I say to thee never ; the highest hero of earth harbours, O woman, thy sheltering womb ! {She hands her the fragments ofSiegmund's sword.) ward for him safe the sundered weapon ; where his father fell 1 gathered it from him ; who shall grasp it whole again in the hilt, his name he gets from me now — " Siegfried " of gladdening sword ! Sieglinde. O mastering wonder ! Lordliest maid ! Thy truth has taught me hohest trust ! What belongs to him whom we loved I will harbour; in its life at last shall my thanks to thee laugh ! Fare thou well ! Unweariedly bless thee my woes ! The Walkyrie. 153 (Ske hastens away to the right in. the foreground. The height is inclosed by black storvi-clotids ; a terribUstortn roars from the background ; a fiery light brightens tlie fir-wood at t/ie side. Among the thunder is heard Wotati^s cry,) Wotan's i^oice). Hold ! Briinnhilde ! The Walkyries. The height is reached by horse and rider ; woe to Briinnhilde ! Wildly he burns ! Brunnhilde. Ah, sisters, help 1 My heart is sick ! His rage will wreck me, if fast you fence me not round. The Walkyries. Hither behind us ! Come to be hid ! Cling in our midst and meet not his call ! ( They all vimmi the rock-point hiding Briinnhilde ainong them^ Woe ! Woe ! Fiercely Wotan falls from his horse — hither strides the storm of his step ! (IVatan strides in terrible anger out of the wood and stops in front of the troop oj Walkyries, who have taken 7ip, on the height, such a position as protects Brimnhiliiefroin sight.) Wotan. Where is Briinnhilde, where with her wickedness ? Seek you to hide her sin from my summons ? L 1S4 The Walkyrie. The Walkyries. Fearful we deem thy fierceness ; what deed befell frorn thy daughters, that roused thee so to unsoftening rage ? , WOTAN. Mean you to mock me ? Bridle your boldness ! I know — Briinnhild' you bar from me now. Leave her from all for ever an offcast, as she her worth has shorn away ! The Walkyries. She fled hither before thee, besought at our hands to be saved ; with fear thy heat has furrowed her heart. For our hapless sister here we beseech thee to rein the sweep of thy wrath. WOTANi Weak-hearted and womanly herd ! Such fainting minds how found you from me ? Have I made you to fare like men to the fight, hearts have I shaped you so sharp and hard, that you wildly here should howl and whine, when I turn on a wounder of truth ? Now feel, you whimperers, what was her fault, for whom you trickle so hotly your tears 1 The Walkyrie. 155 ' Beside her none saw to my innermost senses ; not one like her watched at the well of my wishes ; herself was she the working womb of my will ; — to-day the bond of our bliss she undid, and falsely threatened to fight with my thought ; my spoken behest unhidingly spurned, and at me, with the weapon, she made, that by will of mine she wore ! — Hear'st thou, Briinnhilde, whom to thy harness, fence, and helm, sweetness and bliss, name and being I brought ? Fear'st thou the sound of my summons, and keep'st afar like a coward, in mind to flinch from thy meed ? Brunnhilde insteps (mtfrom the group of Walkyries, walks with submissive but Jtriti tread down from the rock-point and so approaches to within u. short distance frotn Wotat^s faceY Behold me. Father ; my fate I am here for ! WOTAN. From me — falls it not first ; on thyself thy meed thou hast sent. — My will alone awakened thy life, and against it lo thou hast gone ; nought but my word was known in thy work, and against it warning thou givest ; wish-maid wert thou to me, and against my mind thou hast wan;ed ; L 2 iS6 The Walkyrie. shield-maiden I made thee to me, and against me thy shield thou hast moved ; lot-chooser I let thee be, and against me the lots thou hast lifted ; hero-stirrer I had thee hailed, and against me heroes thou goadest. — What once thou wert, unfolds to thee Wotan ; what now thou seemest, name to thyself ! "Wish-maid art thou no more ; Walkyrie's ways thou hast ended ; — from henceward be what here thou abid'st ! Brunnhilde (^terror-stricken). Am I thrust from thee so ? Can such be thy thought ? Wotan. No more from Walhall I send thee, I show thee no more the men to be slain ; no heroes thou guidest again to my hall ; where the gods at feast-time are friendly, the drink-horn may'st thou deal me no more ; no more for my kiss on thy mouth thou wilt come. From midst of the gods thou art moved and forgotten, struck and strewn . from life on their lasting stem; for broken is all our bond ; out of my sight thou for ever art sent I The Walkyrie. igy The Walkyries {breaking (ntt in distress). Woe ! Woe ! Sister ! O sister ! Brunnhilde. All must thou take that thou taught'st me to own ? WOTAN. To thy master must it be lost ! Alone on the height I leave thee to lie; in shelterless sleep shalt thou be shut, till falls the maid to the man, who shall find her and wake by the way. The Walkyries. Befits it. Father, to curse her so far ? Shall the maiden whiten and waste with a man ? O shed not so dreadful a shame on her deed ; in the stain that strikes her we share ! WoTAN. Heard you not how her fate I have fixed ? Far from your side shall the faithless sister be sundered ; her horse no more in your midst through the breezes shall haste her; her flower of maidhood will falter and fade ; a husband will win her womanly heart, 158 The Walkyrie. she meekly will bend to the masteririg man, the hearth she'll heed, as she spins and to laughers is left for their sport. {Brfinnhilde sinks with a cry at kisfeet ; the IValkyries make a iiioveittent 0/ horror,) Fear you her doom ? Then forth from her downfall ! Make from her side, and see her no more ! Were there to linger one with her longer — hope to withstand me and stay by her here, the fool should share in the fate I warn you wisely to shun ! — So sweep from the rock ! Swiftly bereave it ! Nimbly hence on your horses, or await nothing but woe ! ( The Walkyries start asunder with wild cries of distress, and rush with hurriedjlight into the wood ; soon they are heard goin^ off like astormon their horses. Durin:^ what follows the storm ^adu ally ceases ; the clouds part ; twilight and then night sink down amid calm weather.) ( Wotan and Briinnhilde, who still lies stretched at his feet, remain alone. A long solemn silence ; the position of Wotan and Briinnhilde continues unclianged.) Brunnhilde {at length slowly raising her head, seeks Wotan s still averted look, and , during what follows gradually lifts herself up). Full of so sheer a shame was my fault, that with a meed now so shameful it is met ? Led me so deep below thee my deed, that in the depth of such downfall I am left? Fell I at once , so far from my worth, \ that so unworthy of fame I am found? ^, O say, Father ! Search in my face ; The U'alkyrie. igg sink from thy wrath, soften thy rage ! Kindle to sight the covered sin, that with stubborn stress besets thee to forsake thy most chosen child ! WOTAN Seek of thy deed — it sweeps the dark from thy sin ! Brunnhilde. Thine was the word that worked on me then. WOTAN. Was what I warned thee to fight for the Wolsung ? Brunnhilde. Thou said'st as lord of the lots to me so. WOTAN. But back again I grasped the bidding I gave. Brunnhilde. When Fricka the bent that filled thee had broken ; when sway thou gav'st to her fancy, against thyself thou wert foe. WOTAN {bitterly). I deemed thou hadst fathomed me fully and wittingly worked at thy deed ; but senseless and faint before thee I seemed ; so were not betrayal thy trespass, I should rate thee unworthy my wrath ! 1 60 The Walkyrie. Brunnhilde. Not wide is my wisdom ; alone I was ware of thy love for the Wolsung ; I knew of the strife that had stunned thee enough _to make thee of him unmindful. The only thing not out of thy thought to behold was so hard a shock to thy heart — that Siegmund sank from thy shelter. WOTAN. Thou saw'st how it stood, and still wert staunch to his side ? Brunnhilde. For thy sake I seized on that thing with my sight, which, in hold of the other harassed and hurt, thou leftest unlocked to behind thee. Who for Wotan warded his back in the war, she only could see what thou saw'st not at all ; — of nought but Siegmund I knew. In death's name I drew to him now, beheld how he seemed and heard what he said, till I knew the hero's holiest need ; his grief in the tongue of a trumpet he gave me — love in its widest lordliest woe, sorrow's unscanted silencing scorn ; The Walkyrie. i6i I beheld and heard, while I looked and hearkened, what shot unbarred to my breast and holily shook me at heart. — Shy and startled stood I in shame ; how I could help him haunted me wholly ; safety or death with Siegmund to draw for — such was the lot that alone I could seek ! Whose breath had lifted this love in my breast, thy will, that gave me the Wolsung to guard, seemed with me for guide against the word thou hadst said. WOTAN. So hast thou done what to do so wholly I hoped — but what not to do I now doubly was doomed ? So light to thee seemed sweetness of love to be lit on, when burning grief in my breast began, when harrowing fate with fierceness filled me, for love of a world, the well of love in ray wildered heart to hinder ? When against myself I searingly sided, when from wounds of faintness in foam I was wasted, till branding wants and bridleless wishes brought me the withering will. 1 62 The Walkyrie. in the wreck of my world itself, to be rid of a slumberless sorrow, — alone thy food was laughing delight, for feeling's blind and fathomless bliss thy hps were deep in the drink of love — while mine winced at the gall mixed with the woefare of gods ? — Thy fooling thought freely then follow ; aloof thou hast left me far. No more may we meet, nor seek to be mixed in whispered sounds of wisdom ; in work no further thou fondly art with me ; in life nowhere and light is again the god to be near thee ! Brunnhilde. Thou foundest unmeet the foolish maid, who saw not for wonder what thou hadst said, while from all I had learned my belief was alone — to love what thou first hadst loved. — Must I then leave thee and meet thee no longer, wilt thou then sunder, what once was the same, a part of thyself aside from thee put, that thy own it seemed to thee always, thou god, forget not so ! Thy other half thou wijt not unhallow, shame Wilt not wish me, in which thou must share ; The Walkyrie. 163 thy own fall thou wilt look on, if open to laughter I'm found ! WOTAN. Thou followed'st lightly the might of love ; now follow the man whom love thou must ! Brunnhilde. Shall I be shut from Walhall, from share in thy work and thy wisdom, must I belong to the mastering man — a bloodless boaster let him not be ; no worth may he, who shall win me, want ! WOTAN. From Walfather turned the maid — he may not choose for her more. Brunnhilde. Forget not the race thou begot'st, from its root no coward can come ; the holiest hero — I know it — from the Wolsungs' blood is at hand ! WOTAN. Name not the Wolsungs anew ! With them I have done, when from thee I withdraw ; and hate has hunted them down. Brunnhilde. When I swerved from thy word, the Wolsungs I saved ; Sieglinde holds the holiest seed ; 1 64 The Walkyrie. in need and woe to woman unknown, forth she will bring what she flees with in fear. WOTAN. Hope not at my hand welfare for her, nor the fruit that fills her womb ! Brunnhilde. She has got the sword that to Siegmund thou gav'st — WoTAN. And whose blade, as he swung it, I broke ! Seek not, O maid, my mind to unsettle ! Abide the lot to which thou art bound ; no might to bend it is mine ! — But forth I must needs fare from thee now, too far already I rest. From her who turned from me here I must turn ; I may know not what she names in her wish ; her fate alone I must leave fulfilled. Brunnhilde. What seems to thee meet for me to suffer? WOTAN. In steadfast sleep I seal thee straight ; who finds thee fenceless on high, he wakes and has thee for wife. The Walkyrie. 1 65 Brunnhilde {falls on her knees). Ere fettering sleep fast shall fix me for bootless coward as bounden booty, a deed behold thou must do me, the hope of holiest dread — the slumberer harbour with hindering horror, that none but a free unfaltering hero, here on the height may make me his ! WOTAN. Too much thou graspest — too great a meed ! Brunnhilde (cmbraci^s his hues). The boon thou shalt — shalt not forbear from ! Or strike at me now as I strangle thy knee, thy darling mangle, to dust with thy maid, from her body spill the breath with thy spear ; but not fiercely unfence her here to a nameless harm ! (Wildly.) O with thy word a fire awaken, to redden v/ith towering terror the rock, with tongues to lick and with teeth to tear the boaster whose road may bring him in reach of its bellowing rim ! 1 66 The Walkyric. Wot AN {looks with emotion into her eyes and lifts her up'). Farewell, thou choice unwavering child ! Thou holy pastime and pride of my heart ! Farewell ! Farewell ! Farewell ! Must I forsake thee, and may I sweetly no more give thee my greeting ; must we guide not again our horses together ; must my cup by another be handed ; after our love O am I to leave thee, thou laughing delight of my eyes ; — a buoyanter beacon shall burn for thy bridal than ever has blazed for a bride ! To fringe the rock a flame I will raise ; with withering clasp it shall wait for the coward ; the falterer fly from Briinnhilde's fence ! To gain her is given but one — who is freer than I, the god 1 {Briinnhildet with emotion and transport, throws herself into his arms. On the lighting pair of thy eyes, — that lay so oft at my lips, when for flash of coming fight I kissed them, when in sounds of childhood the song that cheered the heroes swelled from thy heart ; on the steadfast pair of thy eyes, — that so oft were stars of my storm, when hope was fierce in my heart like fire. The Walkyrie. 167 when world's-delightwards my will was lifted from dread wiidering darkness, — for latest healing here I must lean in last farewell , of lingering lips ! The happier man to meet them be hailed ! On the luckless god they gaze no longer to light him ! For so — goes the god from thy side ; so weans he thy godhood away. {^He kisses her on both eyes which iTntnediately shut and remain closed she sinks softly^ as i/ weary ^ hack into his arjns. He carries her and lays her tenderly on a loiu Jiiound o/inoss over ivhich stretches a wide-branched Jir. He once more looks at her face and then shuts fast her helmet ; then again his look lingers sadly on her figure, which he at last covers with the long steel shield of the Walkyrie. He then -walks with solemn resolution into the tniddle of the sta»e and turns the point of his spear towards « large mass of rock.') Loge, hear ! Hitherward listen ! As I found thee at first — in arrowy flame, as thereafter thou fleddest — in fluttering fire ; as I dealt with thee once, I wield thee to-day ! Arise, billowing blaze, and fold in thy fire the rock ! Loge ! Loge ! Aloft ! (v4 1 the last call he strikes three times with his spear on the stone, where- upon aflame starts out of it, which quickly spreads into a sea of fire, to ■which Wotan points out with his spear the riin of the rock for its flow,) Who fears the spike of my spear to face, he will pierce not the planted fire I {,He disappears in the fire towards the background, ( The curtain falls.) SECOND DAY. SIEGFRIED. M PERSONS. Siegfried. Mime. The Wanderer. Alberich. Fafner. Erda. Brunnhilde. M 2 SIEGFRIED. FIRST ACT. Forest. {^The/oregrtmnd is formed by part of a natural cavern, which towards t/ie left stretches deeper inwards^ but towards the right occupies about three-quarters of the sta^e. Two naturally formed entrances are open towards the forest ; the one to the right issues immediately, the broader one sidevjays on to the background. Against the back-wall to the left stands a large forge naturally fortned out of pieces of rock ; the great bellows are all that is artificial. The rough chimney — also natural— goes up through the roof of the rock. A very large anvil and other smith's implements.) Mime ias the curtain rises after a brief orchestral prelude, is sitting at the anvil and, with growing uneasiness, hammering at a sword ; at length, in ill- humour, he stops his work). Toil without guerdon ! Wearisome task ! The fittest sword that ever I forged, in the fist of giants firm it were found ; but he it was made for, the mannerless youngster, will smash and smite it in two, as if I had turned out a toy ! A sword that I know he were slow to sunder ; with Nothung's bits he needs would forbear, could I but splice the cursed splinters, that all my mind will not aid me to mend. 174 Siegfried. Might I but weld the weapon, I should reap a meed for my wrong ! (//tf ytnks farther hack and bends his head in thought^ Fafner, the sullen Worm, sits in the gloomy wood, where he binds with his body's weight the Nibelung's hoard hidden beneath. Fafner's body would bend to Siegfried's boyish force ; the Nibelung's ring through him 1 should reach. The sword to work it is one ; and Nothung fits to my need, when Siegfried swings him like fire ; — but unwelded I see him, Nothung the sword !— i^He proceeds, in greatest ill-humour^ to hajnmer the sword.) Toil without guerdon ! Wearisome task ! The fittest sword, that I ever forged, would never do for the needful deed ! I beat it and heat it but for the boy's behest ; he'll smash and smite it in bits, yet blame if slumbers his smith ! {Siegfried, in 'wildfurest clothings with a silver horn at a chain, comes boisterously infroTn the wood; he has bridled a great dear with a rope, and arives it, with loud merriment, at Mime, In fright Mime lets /all the sword; he runs behind the hearth ; Siegfried drives the bear after him in all directions ) Siegfried. Hoyho ! Hoyho ! At him ! At him ! Eat him ! Eat him ! Unsightly smith ! i^He laughs immoderately.) Siegfried. 175 Mime. Out with the beast ! Why bring me the bear ? Siegfried. I brought a neighbour, to nudge thee the better; Browny, see for the sword ! Mime. Let him away ! Here lies the weapon ; rubbed and ready for work. Siegfried. And so to-day thou art safe ! t^He toosetis the bears bridle and gives him a blow on the back with it.) Off, Browny; thy business is over ! (^The bear runs back into the wood.) Mime {comes out treinhlingfrovt behind the heariJi). To kill the bears I cannot blame thee ; why lead them home to me here alive ? Siegfried {seats himself to recover from his laughter). I hoped for a comelier comrade than sits by my side at home ; the heart of the forest my horn filled with a sounding signal ; " Who will come till he finds me. " and call me friend ? " I freely said with its sound. From the bushes hied a bear, who listened and looked and howled, and I bore him better than thee, though better still I could stand ; 176 Siegfried. but I brought him hither bridled in hemp, to waken thy haste with the weapon. ijie leaps up and goes towards the sword.) Mime {seizes the sword to hand it to Szeg/7 ied). The sword I well have set ; for a sharper wilt thou not wish. Siegfried (takes the sword). What steads me a shining weapon, if weakness shames its steel ? i.He tests it with his hand.) Hey ! What a trumpery toy is here ! The sullen skewer thou say'st is a sword ? {He strikes it to pieces on the anvil, so that the bits fly about; Mime /rightened, gets out oj the way.) Unbounded bungler, gather the bits ; would I had shattered it over thy shoulders ! — At last shall thy chatter cheat me no longer ! Thou blab'st about giants and blustering battles, of manful doings and masterly deeds ; thou serv'st me with weapons, swords thou weldest, always as boundless boastest thy art ; and when I handle what thou hast hammered a grasp will dint and grind it to dirt ! — Siegfried. ty^ ^Vere not the knave too nasty to near, with his blades and his hilts, I'd hammer him up, — the old unfurthering fright ! My sickness were so at an end ! i^He throvjs himself in a rage on to a stone seaton the right.') Mime {.who has all through kept carefully out of his ivay). Now mad thou growest again ! Such guerdon must I meet ? — Bring the unthankful boy not the best in all he bids, and all I gave him good in haste his heart forgets ! When wilt thou take to thought of the thanks I have tried to teach thee ? To him at least thou should'st listen, whose love thou wholly hast had. Siegfried turns ill-humouredly aivay^ "with his face to the wall, so that his back is to Mivte^ My words no further thou bearest ! — Will food more welcome be ? I'll fetch the meat from the fire ; or may I the broth not bring ? For thee yonder it brews. (.He offers food to Siegfried^ who, without turning round, knocks the pot and the meat out of his hand.) SlEGrRIED. Meat I served to myself; at thy messes lap alone ! Mime {pretends to be hurt). Such an end awaited all my work .? Learn I this way the wages of love ? — i8o Siegfried. Mime {at some distance seats himself familiarly opposite him). A witness here thou holdest how warmly I'm with thee at heart. Siegfried ijaughs). Thy sight is grief to suffer, — forget not such so soon ! Mime. With thy wildness abides the blame, — thou should'st break thy will of its ways. Younglings that miss their mother yearn for the nest they knew ; love is nothing but longing ; so when thou longest for me, it warns thee thou lovest thy Mime — and love him thou must ! — What the bird to the brood it breeds and nurses in its nest, ere the fledgling can flutter, such to the shoot of thy youth is Mime's motherly shelter — such still it must stay. Siegfried. Ey, Mime, art thou so clever, a matter more thou can'st clear ! The birds for the sweetness of Spring were in song, and each was seeking the other ; thou said'st thyself, when I wanted word, the male was wooing the mother. He came to her softly and sat by her side, a feathery nest they fitted and filled ; Siegfried. jtSi young wings were awakened and waved about, and worms were brought to the brood. — So dwell in the copse by couples the deer, so wolves and wandering foxes ; home with fodder hastens the father, the whelps have milk from the mother ; and here I learned what hke is love ; no whelps from their dam have I drawn away. — Where ownest thou. Mime, thy mate like the others, for me to call her mother ? Mime (peevishly). What is thy whim ? Lost are thy wits ? Is a fowl thy like — or a fox ? Siegfried. The whimpering babe thou wistfully bred'st, thou warm'dst with linen the little worm ; — but why should Mime have met with the worm ? He manfully made it without a mate ? Mime (/« great perple-xlty). What I tell for truth must be taken ; thy father I was and mother as well, i82 Siegfried. Siegfried. Thou false unwitting old fool ! — How whelps are their father's likeness, is what I have luckily learned. I bent to the shining brook, and beheld in it beast and bird and bushes ; sun and shadows, faithfully shown, before me I saw at my feet. My face in the midst I further found ; but, Mime, thy looks made it no match ; such fellow's a toad to a flickering fish ; but toads are not fathers of fishes ! Mime {very irritahly), Wildering nonsense now are thy words ! Siegfried {with increasing vivacity) . Lo of a sudden at last I see what has vexed me so long in vain ; when I fly my farthest into the forest, what it is that hurries me home ! (He leaps up.) No mouth but Mime's unfolds me what father and mother were mine ! Mime {£:ets ont of his may). What father ? what mother ? Fanciful folly ! Siegfried. 183 Siegfried {takes him hy the thnaf). And SO I must seize thee to make thee say it ; ungrudged I shall gather not aught ! Nought without force and fight were my knowledge ; hardly speech I here should have heard of, had fright not wrung it forth from the rogue ! Now open thy mouth with it all ; who are my father and mother ? Mime {aftcrnoddin^ his head and making signs with his hands, has been loosed by Siegfried), Thou hardly leav'st me with life ! — Withhold ! Thou shalt learn, of the news thou lackest, the whole that I know. — unthankful and thoughtless boy ! Behold ! what brings me thy hatred ! Call me not father nor furthest kin, — yet see how thou ow'st me thyself ! Unknown and in need, befriended by none, in freeness of heart, 1 harboured thee here ; and mannerly meed I have found ! Like a fool I thought upon thanks ! A woman once in harm I heard from the wildering wood ; I fetched her fast to the hole and filled her with heat from the hearth. 1 82 Siegfried. Siegfried. Thou false unwitting old fool ! — How whelps are their father's likeness, is what I have luckily learned. I bent to the shining brook, and beheld in it beast and bird and bushes ; sun and shadows, faithfully shown, before me I saw at my feet. My face in the midst I further found ; but, Mime, thy looks made it no match ; such fellow's a toad to a flickering fish ; but toads are not fathers of fishes ! Mime i^very irritably). Wildering nonsense now are thy words ! Siegfried {with increasing vivacity) . Lo of a sudden at last I see what has vexed me so long in vain ; when I fly my farthest into the forest, what it is that hurries me home ! {He leaps up.) No mouth but Mime's unfolds me what father and mother were mine ! Mime i^ets out oj his itiay). What father ? what mother ? Fanciful folly ! Siegfried. 183 Siegfried {takes him by the throat). And so I must seize thee to make thee say it ; ungrudged I shall gather not aught ! Nought without force and fight were my knowledge ; hardly speech I here should have heard of, had fright not wrung it forth from the rogue ! Now open thy mouth with it all ; who are my father and mother ? Mime {after nodding his head and making signs with his hands ^ Itas been loosed by Siegfried). Thou hardly leav'st me with life ! — Withhold ! Thou shalt learn, of the news thou lackest, the whole that I know. — unthankful and thoughtless boy ! Behold ! what brings me thy hatred ! Call me not father nor furthest kin, — yet see how thou ow'st me thyself ! Unknown and in need, befriended by none, in freeness of heart, 1 harboured thee here ; and mannerly meed I have found ! Like a fool I thought upon thanks ! A woman once in harm I heard from the wildering wood ; I fetched her fast to the hole and filled her with heat fiom the hearth. 1 84 Siegfried. A babe weighed in her womb ; sadly it broke to sight \ from side to side she wound, with will and hand I helped ; deep was the hurt, she died— but Siegfried — he was saved. Siegfried iseating himself). So died my mother by me ? Mime. She in trust to me gave the child ; the charge I gladly took. What labour Mime has made ! What loss by his goodness has got ! " The whimpering babe " I wistfully bred "... Siegfried. With such thou hast filled me before Now say why my name is Siegfried ? Mime. Thy mother besought that so I should make it ; as "Siegfried" soon thou wert fair and sound. — " I warmed with linen " the little worm "... Siegfried. Now what was the name of my mother ? Mime. I wear it not in mind ! " I fed thee with meat " and milk to the fill ". . . Siegfried. Her name I will have from thy knowledge ! Siegfried. 185 Mime. I seem to forget ! — but soft ! Sieglinde is it, who made thee so sadly over to me ? — " I watched thee as well " as the skin I wear "... Siegfried. But further, who was my father ? Mime (^sharply). Him I have never seen. Siegfried. But my mother must have said it ? Mime. That he was slain, was the whole that I heard ; my breast she filled with the fatherless babe ; — " And when thou wert taller " I tended thee too ; " for smiling slumber " thy bed I smoothed "... Siegfried. Staunch thy unceasing starhng-song ! — Ere I can trust thy tidings, if thou hast lied not wholly, let me a sign behold. Mime. What weight is in such a witness ? Siegfried. I trust no tale that is said, I trust the sight that I see ; what token seals thy truth ? 1 86 Siegfried. Mime {after so>ne thought fetches the two pieces of a broken sword), Mark what thy mother gave me ; for grief and wasting worry she made me this worthless meed. Behold the shards of a sword ! She said thy father held it, when in last of his fights he fell. Siegfried. To work at once and soundly weld it ! So win I the sword I want ! Here with it, Mime, hasten thy hands ; smite with the meetest might of a smith ! Trifle not now with needy tricks ; the splinters alone I look to for speed. If I find thee slow, if falsely thou fit'st or stick'st unfairly the flawless steel, — I'll break thy treacherous back, and teach thee better thy trade ! I swear thou shalt see me swing it to-day ; the weapon I'll win before dark. Mime {alarmed). What seek'st thou to do with the sword ? • Siegfried. From the wood forth in the world fare ; back no further to be I How I freshen in my freedom, nothing fetters me now ! Siegfried. 187 No father have I here, and afar I find my home ; thy roof is not my house, at thy hearth I need not rest. As the fish flows in the full flood, as the finch flees with his wings wide, forward I fly, fleetly I float, like wind of the wood whistle away — to meet with thee, Mime, no more ! i^He darts off into the wood.) Mime (/« neatest distress). Whither ? Whither ? Withhold ! {He calls -with all kis might into the wood.) Hi ! Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Hi !— So hence he storms j and here I stay. On former need follows a fresher, and done for behold me indeed ! — How help myself here ? How fix him at home ? Whom now shall I fare with to Fafner's'nest ? — How strive with the splinters of spiteful steel ? Not a forge whose fire reddens them fitly ; not a dwarf whose hammer deals with their hardness ; the Niblung's heat, greed and need, serve me not Nothung to heal, help not the sword to be whole -^ {He sinkSj in despair^ on to the stool behind the atitiil.) N i 1 88 Siegfried. {The Wanderer [ WotaiC^ enters from the mood by the hinder door of tlie cave. He wears a long dark-blue cloak, and carries a spear as a staff. On his head he has a large hat with broad rcund brim, which hangs far down ove7- ike place of his missing eye.) Wanderer. Smith of wisdom, hail ! The weary guest welcome give to house and hearth ! Mime {has started np in alarm). Who far in the forest follows me so, who besets me in wayless woods ? Wanderer. Wanderer calls me the world ; far I've carried my feet, on the back of the earth I have boundlessly been. Mime. So move on thy way and wait not with me ; if "Wanderer " calls thee the world ! Wanderer. Where I go I am welcome, gifts were made me by many ; let him be like them, who looks for luck ! Mime. Mischief long has lived upon me ; lend not thy hand to my hardship 1 Wanderer (coming further in). Much I followed and much I found ; Siegfried. 189 matters of weight unwound to many ; sent from men what made their sorrow, need that had gnawed their souls. Mime. If all thou hast spied and hast spelt that is, here aids me not spyer or speller. Leave me lonely and let me be ; loiterers badly I bear. Wanderer (coming again a Jew steps nearer). Numbers weaned their widsom enough, but what they needed knew no whit ; when they asked me what were wisest, meed they met in my word. Mime {jnore and more anxious, as the IVanderer comes still nearer). Numbers beg for bootless knowledge ; I see enough for myself; I shall want not for wit, with my share I am well ; I show thy wisdom the way ! Wanderer (sits down by the hearth). I sit at thy hearth, and set in thy hand, on wisdom-wager, my head. Thy hand has won my head when its wit has failed to unfold what fits thy plight, and loose with its lessons the pledge. 19° Siegfried. Mime {frightened and perplexed, to himself). How help I my house from his look ? My questions' craft I must lean on ! iAloud) Thy head hold I for my hearth ; now win it forth with thy wisdom ! For three answers think I to ask. Wanderer. Bound am I to bring them. Mime {after some thought). On the back of the earth has thy beat been endless, and broad thy way in the world ; now cunningly tell to me what kin dwells in its covering deepness ? Wanderer. In its depth and dark is Nibelungs' dwelling, Nibelheim home they name. Dark-elves we deem them ; Dark-Alberich daunted them once to his will ; with the might of runes that ran in his ring forced he the restless folk. Glancing gold in greatening hoard for him they heaped ; the world it was needed to win him. — What question is next to come ? Siegfried. 191 Mime (Jailing into deeper thought). News out of the navel-nest of the earth I own thou know'st ; — but break to me now the breed whose bulk burdens her shaggy shoulders. Wanderer. On her harbouring back the heels of the giants are heard ; Riesenheim's realm is their home. Fasolt and Fafner, their grasping masters, grudged at the Nibelung's might, till their hands in the matchless hoard they had mixed, and reached among it the ring ; between the brothers it bred a broil that Fasolt fell in ; in guise of Worm Fafner is guard to the gold. — Now threats of thy questions the third. Mime (wAo has fallen quite into a dream). True tidings thou also tell'st of the earth's unshapen shoulders ; now last I will learn the race that aloof rules in heights that are hidden ? Wanderer. Of heights that are hid gods are the holders ; Walhall's hall is their home. Light-elves we own them ; IJght-Alberich, Wotan, leads them his way. 192 Siegfried. From the world-ash's holiest arm he shore for his hold a shaft ; though starves the stem, still unspoiled is the spear ; and with its point pins Wotan the world. Runes of blest unrending bargains hewn in it bears the handle ; the world in heed waits at the hand, where the spear fits that fist of Wotan feels. His nod withholds the Nibelungs' host ; the giants he made meek to his mind ; endlessly all to him hearken whose span upholds the spear. {He strikes^ as if inzioluntarily, on the groitnd uiith his spear ; faint thunder is heardt at which Mime is violently frightened.') How deem'st thou, wily dwarf? Quit I thy questions well ? Unwon have I held my head .■• Mime {has started out of his dreamy forgetfuhtess, and appears troubled, withoitt daring to look at the Wanderer). Questions and head loosest thou whole ; so, Wanderer, hence on thy way ! Wanderer. What is well for thy ear wert thou to ask me ; and held'st, till I answered, my head ; that thy nearest need scarcely thou know'st, now put I thy skull into pawn. Siegfried. 193 193 Greeted not gladly as guest, my head I straight staked in thy hand, to get the good of thy hearth. By wager's force forfeit thou fall'st, can'st thou not meet three questions of mine ; so waken. Mime, thy wit ! Mime (shyly ^ and luith thnld resignation). Long from my land of home I have lived, miles I've wandered from my mother's womb ; the eyelight of Wotan opened, my walls were live with his look ; before him withers my mother-wit. But well it becomes to be wise ! Wanderer, question away I The dwarf, driven to risk it, may ransom perhaps his head. Wanderer. First, trustworthy dwarf, truthfully tell me, what is the name of the race where Wotan wreaks his wrath, meanwhile though he loves it like life? Mime. Heroes' breeds I but barely hear of, yet easily answer thee here. The Wolsungs were raised to work his wish, begot by Wotan and greatly loved, though reached them at last his rage. 1 94 Siegfried. Walse was sire of Siegmund and Sieglind', the wildly treated and woeful twins ; Siegfried leapt from their love, the strongest shoot of the stem . Withhold I, Wand'rer, for once my head ? Wanderer. Rightly thou readest the name of the race ; sly I see is the rascal ! The foremost question is fairly quit ; and now thou art free for the next ; — a knowing Niblung nurses Siegfried, Fafner soon he shall fell him, that the ring he may seize and rest on the hoard his hand. Say what sword is Siegfried to draw, fitting for Fafner's death ? Mime {more and more forgetful of his present siittation, find deeply interested in the sulfject), Nothung is named a sundering sword ; in an ash's stem Wotan stuck it ; he only should own it, whose hand could haul it out. The strongest heroes left it unstirred ; sinews of none but Siegmund served ; well he flashed it in fight, till it split upon Wotan's spear. Siegfried. 195 195 Now a cunning craftsman the splinters keeps ; for he sees that alone with the Wotan-sword, a bold and witless boy, Siegfried, will slay the Worm. ( With satis/action. ) To guard my head again have I happed ? Wanderer. The wit of the world is mean to thy wisdom ; who comes there to match thy craft ? But hast thou the brains to build by the hand of a boyish hero thy business, — for thy other answer now I ask ! — Say to me, wary weapon-smith, by whom, from his weighty halves, is Nothung anew to be welded ? Mime istaits up in extreme terror'). The splinters ! The sword ! Why spin my senses ? — What dare I do ? What must I deem ? The cursed steel, for me to have stolen ! It fixes me wholly in harm and fear ; its hardness holds, it will not be hammered ; solder and rivet set me not right. The wiliest smith smites it in waste ; 196 Siegfried. who'll forge it afresh, when I have failed ? The wonder — how shall I hear it ? Wanderer {has risen from his scat by the hearth). Thrice thou earnest with questions, three I manfully met ; thou sentest unfitly far thy search ; but what was nearest thy need — what thy want is, saw not thy sense. When now I name it wander thy wits, and here I have won in its wisdom thy head. — Hark, dauntless feller of Fafner, heed, thou forfeited dwarf ; — none but his fist who never feared, Nothung welds anew. {Mime stares stupidly at hij7! ; he turns to go^ Thy crafty head keep as thou can'st, in forfeit fallen to him who is hid from hint of fear. {He lan^Jis anii ^oes into the ivoo.i^ Mime {has sunk, as if quite crushed^ back on the stool behind the anvil, he stares vacantly out into the sunny wood. After a considerable silence he is seized ivithviolent trembling). How wide a flame ! The wind is on fire ! What flickers and flutters, what crackles and flares, what hovers and rocks and hurls itself round 1 It glances and shoots in the gleaming sun ! Siegfried. 197 What whistles and hums and whizzes here ? It wades through the wood and makes this way ! It roars hke mad and rushes at me ! Unmeasuredly gapes a merciless mouth ! — The Worm will be with me ! Fafner ! Fafner ! {He shrieks and/alls diyiim behind the hroad atr,'il.) Siegfried {bursts out of the thicket, and calls front ivithmtt). What ho ! Thou idler ! Hast thou not ended ? Say what hap with the sword ? {He has come in and stands in ivander.) Why fails the smith ? Forth is he fled ? Hihi ! Mime, thou muddler ! What niean'st thou ? Where hides thy head ? Mime {•withfaint voice behind tlie anvil). Child, is it thou ? No one but thee ? Siegfried. Under the anvil ! So — what is it thou seekest ? Set is the edge on the sword ? Mime {in greatest trouble aTid distraction). The sword ? How might I see to mend it ? — (Half to himself.) " None but his fist " who never feared, " Nothung welds anew." — 1 98 Siegfried. Too wise I waxed for such a work ! Siegfried. Wilt thou not tell me ? Word shall I teach thee ? Mime {fis before). From whence can counsel be called ?- My wily head went in a wager, and forfeit has fallen to him, " who is hid from hint of fear." — Siegfried {impatiently). Seek'st thou to shuffle 1 Shirkest thou so ? Mime {gradually sotnewhat collectiftg hitnself). I'd fly him now who knows of fear ; but I left it afar from thy lessons ; forgot like a fool the fittest good ; love for me I longed he should master ; but, alas, my luck was bad ! Will better befall me with fear ? Siegfried {seizes him). Out must I draw thee ? What did'st thou to-day ? Mime. I sank in myself, by way of thy safety something to work that is weighty. Siegfried. 199 99 Siegfried (lavghini). Till under the seat sunken thou wert ; what fetched thee so far with its weight ? Mime {recovering; himself more and more). I look for the fear that thou lackest ; fast it befits thee to learn it ! Siegfried. So needful why looks it ? Mime. Thou knowest it not, and wilt from the wood forth to the world ? What good were the soundest of swords grasped without fright or fear ? Siegfried i^lmpiitienily). Rotten counsel comes of thy care ! Mime. With thy mother's mind warns thee my mouth ; good I must make words that I gave her — from the craft of the world to keep thee in cover, till fear thou had'st caught of its face. Siegfried. Nam'st thou an art, why know I it not ? — Unfold it now to me fully I 2O0 Siegfried. Mime. C riv7// ^ riyuiing animation). Hast thou not fel"C in furthest wood, at gloomy spots as twihght spreads, when far it hisses, hums and howls, now with cries and crashes nears, fiercely flares at thee, and flickers, storms and swells, and sweeps and strikes, — hast thou not felt the hand of horror along thy limbs, — shuddering fire shake thee to shivers, wildly swim and wander thy senses, in thy breast, hunted and hurt, burst thy hammering heart ? — Feltest thou not the fit, fear thou never hast known. Siegfried. Sudden and nameless such must seem ! Whole and fast feels my heart to me here. With its shocks and its shudders, showers and shivers, fires and hurries, flurries and hammers — fear were worthy of wishes, fast I would learn its delight ! — But how must I, Mime, be helped? Hast thou the means to be master ? Siegfried. Mime. Lonelily let me lead thee with me ; wholly I have them in mind. I know of a wicked Worm, who swallows what he sees ; Fafner is meet for a master ; follow me now to his nest. Siegfried. Where holds he his home ? Mime. Neid-hole it has for its name ; to east, at end of the wood. Siegfried. Not far away from the world ? Mime. To Neid-hole its fringe is quite near ! Siegfried. Then bring me briefly to-wards it ! Fear shall be with me, then forth in the world ! So quick ! give me the sword ; in the world soon I will swing it. Mime. The sword ! O woe ! Siegfried. Where is the weapon ? Show it at once ! Mime. The cheating steel ! I stand not a chance with the stuff ! 20 2 Siegfried. No dwarf that hammers can deal with its spiteful spell. He, who knows not of fear, were fitter help in the need. Siegfried. Sleights has learned the slippery sluggard ; how he has bungled back he will hold, in hope to mislead me with lies ! — Here with the splinters ! Hence with their spoiler ! My father's steel fits to my strength ; myself forge I the sword ! {Jle prepares quickly for work.) Mime. Had'st thou but willingly worked thy hands, they here would have stood thee in stead ; but lazy ways thou wentest at lessons, and hence they little will help thee ! Siegfried. Where the master is bad, were meeter the boy, who matches the way of his work ? — Now make me room, meddle no more ; or fall with me in the fire ! {He has piled a great heap of coals on the hearth, and keeps up the fire, while he fixes the pieces of the sword in the vice and files them to dust.) Mime (watching hitn). What seek'st thou so ? Here rests the solder ; I brewed already the broth. Siegfried. 203 03 Siegfried. Bring not thy brew ! I'm sick of broth ; no sword with batter I bake ! Mime. Thou wilt flatten the file and ruin the rasper ; so madly why wreck the metal ? Siegfried. The sword asunder to dust I will saw ; what is broken so I will bind. Mime {while Siegfried Jiles on fast). No wit is wanted, I see, this way ; the fool is served by his folly itself ! Mark how he toils and moves his might • he dwindles the steel, and stays not' for drought ! — Here am I as old as oak or hole ; yet such I never beheld ! — With the sword his will he safely will work, fearlessly forge it sound, — the Wanderer saw it well ! — How hide I now my hapless head ? It forfeit falls to the lad, learns he from Fafner no fear ; — but woe to-wards me ! Who'd settle the Worm, were fear upon Siegfried to fall ? Who beside him reach me the ring ? o 2 204 Siegfried. The cursed strait, where still I stick, find I not blinding ways the fearless boy to outwit ! Siegfried ijias n(nu filed uj> the pieces and put thein into a melting-pot, which he sets on the fire ; during whatfijllows he keeps up the heat "with the bellows'). Hi ! say to me now the name of the sword that so into dust I have driven. Mime {^starting out of his thoughts'), Nothung, such is the name of the sword ; from thy mother I met with the news. Siegfried (while he works'). Nothung ! Nothung ! Sundering sword ! What shook thee so into shivers ? To chaff thy biting blade I've chopped, thy bran I cook in the kettle ! Hoho ! Hoho ! Hahei! Hahei ! Bellows, beat ! Blow up a blaze ! Wild was once in woods a tree, in the forest the trunk I felled ; the brindled oak to blackness I burned, on the hearth I build it in heaps ! Hoho! Hoho! Hahei! Hahei! Bellows, beat ! Blow up a blaze ! — Siegfried. 205 How fleetly kindles the forest coal, how fierce and glad it grows ! In sputtering sparks it spits and spurts, melts me the metal's spray. — Hoho ! Hoho ! Hahei ! Hahei ! Bellows, beat ! Blow up a blaze ! — Nothung ! Nothung ! Sundering sword ! Now seethes thy splinters' spray ! Thou swimm'st in sweat thou madest thyself — I'll bring thee soon to a blade ! Mime {^sitting apart ^ to himself during the pauses of Siegfried^ s song). He forges the sword, and fells me Fafner ; I see it all safely before ; hoard and ring he wrests from his hold ; — how in hand shall I get the gain ? I'll win them both with wile and wisdom, and hide from woe my head. Worn when he seems with the Worm, to his side I'll draw with a drink ; from seasoning saps I sorted together, broth for his good I brew ; but a sip or so get him to swallow, soundly to sleep he goes ; with the sword he welds for himself in his wisdom — hastily root him away — and welcome to ring and hoard I 2o6 Siegfried. Hi ! wary Wanderer ! Found'st thou a fool ? Of his nimble wit what weenest thou now ? Means and meed myself have I made ? i^He leaps up with satisfaction, fetches vessels and pours spices out of them into a- pot.) Siegfried {lias poured the melted steel into a -mould and plunged it into the water', the loud hiss of its cooling is now heard). In the water flowed a flash of fire ; harrowing wrath hissed to his heat ; fixing winter he felt. The stream, that he flung in the startled flood, flows not again, straight grows he and stiff, stubborn and gashing steel; seething blood shall bathe him soon ! — Once more for me sweetly sweatj as I mend thee, Nothung, sundering sword ! (He thrusts the steel into the fire and makes it red hot. He turns then to Mime, who, from the other end oj the hearth, sets a pot at the edge of the fire.) What puts the dunce to do in the pot ? While steel I bake, is broth thy business ? Mime. A smith has met with shame, the learner his master leads ; at an end is his art at last, as cook keeps him the lad ; Siegfried. 207 bakes himself iron the boy, his elder brews him broth out of eggs. {He goes on with his cooking,) Siegfried {siili during his vjork) . Mime, the craftsman, minds the kitchen, his forge befits him no more ; I have sent the swords he made me asunder ; of his mess I mean not to sip. That fear I may learn far he will lead me, in mind to find me a master ; what he truliest knows he teaches me not ; in nought than a bungler he's better ! {He has drawn out the red-hot steel and, during the following song, hamtners it, with the great smith' s-hamnier, on the anvil.) Hoho ! Hahei ! Hoho ! Set me, my hammer, a hardy sword ! Hoho ! Hahei ! Hahei 1 Hoho ! Hahei 1 Hoho ! Hahei !— Once blazed with blood thy fallow blue ; its ruddy ripple reddened thy rims ; cold found it thy laugh, who licked its fire low ! Hahahei ! Hahahei ! Hahahei 1 Hei ! Hei ! Hoho ! ^ Hoho ! Hoho 1 The roasting blaze has burned thee red ; 2o8 Siegfried. on thy wound the healing hammer works ; sparks thou spitefully pourest at me who master thy pride ! Heiaho ! Heiaho 1 Heiaho ! Ho ! Ho ! Hoho ! Hoho ! Hahei !— Hoho ! Hahei ! Hoho ! Set me, my hammer, a hardy sword ! i Hoho ! Hahei ! Hahei ! Hoho ! Hahei ! Hoho ! Hahei !— I spend my glee on the spouting sparks ! The storm I kindle becomes the steel ; laughter runs in thy look, though fiercely feigned is thy rage ! Hahahei ! Hahahei ! Hahahei! Hei ! Hei ! Hoho! Hoho! Hoho! Both heat and hammer helped me well ; with blows of weight thy will I bent ; now shrink from thy flushing shame, and be cold and firm as thou canst ! Heiaho ! Heiaho ! Heiaho ! Ho ! Ho ! Hahei! Hoho! Hahei! ( With the last words he plunges the steel into the water and laughs at the fierce hissing.) Mime {iiihile Siegfried is fixing the welded sword-blade into the hilt ; again in the foreground) . He forges a shearing sword, Fafner to fell me, the Niblungs' foe ; Siegfried. 299 I brewed a slippery broth, that Siegfried may follow when Fafner falls. My guile must put me to good ; pay must grow to my pain ! That my brother wrought, the glimmering ring, into which he spent a mastering spell, the glancing gold that has might to give, I've won it and wear it, I wield its weight ! — Alberich's self, who irked me so, I drive to sweat and dig like a dwarf; as Nibelungs' lord light I below ; with heed shall hear me all the host ! — The unwaited-for dwarf in worship shall dwell ! To the hoard shall god and hero haste ; my nod shall work the knees of the world, my eye shall send it shivering on ! — No more to toil has Mime the mind ; he'll heap by others the holy hoard. Mime by mettle makes himself master ; lord and owner and leader of all ! Hi, Mime ! how met thee the luck? Who looked it was left for thy meed ? 2IO Siegfried. Siegfried {in the pauses of Mune^s song, while he files and polishes and hammers the sword with the small han»ner\ Nothung ! Nothung ! Brightening blade I Behold thou art back in thy hilt. Wert thou in bits, thy wound I have bound, no shock shall bring thee to shivers. For death of the sire was snapped the sword, with life from the son again it is sound ; it greets him with laughing light, when it hews for him, home it shall go. — Nothung ! Nothung ! Welded and new, to life again thou art given. Dead lay'st thou and done with long, now lordly and fierce is thy flash. Break upon rogues with broadening blaze ! Strike upon wretches, stagger their wrong ! — See, Mime, my smith j so slices Siegfried's sword ! {During the second verse he has swung the sword, and tiwu strikes with it on the anvil ; this is split into two pieces, from top to bottom, so that it falls asunder with agreat crash. Mime, in convulsion, falls to theground in a sitting posture. Siegfried holds the sword exultingly in the air. — The curtain falls quickly^ Siegfried. SECOND ACT. Far in the forest. (Quite in the background the opening of a cave. The grouTid rises as far as the middle of the stage, where it forms a small plat- form ; front thence it sinks again bctckivards towards the cave, so that only the upper part oj its opening is visible to the spectator. To the left a wall of rock, full of clefts, is seen through the trees. Dark night— thickest over the backgrmmd, where at first the look oJ the spectator is able to discern nothing.) Alberich (leaning against the wall of rock at the side, in gloomy thought). In night and wood at Neid-hole here I watch ; with ear in wait wearily lurks my eye. — Yearning day, dawnest thou yet ? Wistfully winnows the dark thy way ? (A storm-wind rises, on the right, out of the wood.) What light yonder is loose, higher glances and hither gleams ? It flies Uke the flash of a horse ; wildly it breaks way in the wood. — Has found the Worm his killer ? Is Fafner's feller come ? (The storm-wind ceases ; the light disappears.) The light is lost— the gleam goes from my look ; night is it anew. — Who nears with shine in the shadow ? The Wanderer (enters from the wood and stops opposite Alberich). To Neid-hole I hied through the night ; who is deep in the darkness here ? (Moonlight breaks forth, as ij out oj a cloud suddenly torn, and lights up the IVanderer'sfgure.) 212 Siegfried. Alberich {recognises the Wanderer and starts dack in alarm). Thyself showest thou so ? — {He breaks out into anger.) What seek'st thou here ? Haste from my sight ! Be hence, thou shirker of shame ! Wanderer. Dark-Alberich, Fafner's door finds thee a haunting friend ! Alberich. Hop'st thou to fill thy hatred with food ? Linger not here, look for it longer ! Its spite thy falseness fully has spent on the spot ; so no further seek it henceforth ! Wanderer. To heed I neared, and not to handle, who hems me on Wanderer's way ? Alberich {laughing maliciously). Thou mad meaner of mischief ! Were I yet for once but as weak in warfare, as when thy fetter found me, how ripe to be filched were again the ring for thy finger ! Beware ! though thy skill well I can scan, where lurks thy weakness long I lived not to wonder. Siegfried. 213 For gold I gathered thy debts were forgiven ; my ring sweetened the giants' sweat, who laid thy bulwarks aloft ; what with thy builders was rightfully bargained, by runes is sheltered well on thy spear's unwithering shaft. Gettest thou once what as guerdon thou gavest, by force again into freedom — the spell were spent in thy stubborn spear, and amid thy strain the might of the staff that masters were spilt like spray. Wanderer. Not by runes of rightful bargains bound it from midst of mischief thy bent ; it stoops thee to me with its strength ; I ward it well for my strife. Alberich. In daunting words thou wastefuUy dealest, while dread is at home with thy heart ! — By dint of my curse forfeit to death is Fafner, the hoard's withholder ; — who shall afterwards own it ? Will the gladdening hoard be held again by the Niblung ? That sears thee with nameless sorrow ! For once if I feel its weight in my fist, judge if like witless giants I wield my ransomed ring ; 214 Siegfried. then — shiver the heroes' holy upholder ! Walhall's heights storm I with Bella's host, the world steer to my will ! Wanderer. So thy thought flatters ; I fear not the threat ; he wields the ring who wins it away. Alberich. How darkly thou sayest what I see like the sun ! Thy hopes on heroes' babes thou hast hung, who sweetly bloomed from thy blood ; fosterest boys like a father, to pluck thee fruit in places thou fear'st thyself to seek. Wanderer. With me— hold !— haggle with Mime ; thy brother brings thee thy harm, for he leads a hero along to fell for him Fafner here. Nought knows he of me ; for Niblungs' needs he is meant. I give thee word of good ; follow freely thy gain ! Bend to me well, be on the watch ; of the ring recks not the lad, but Mime has learned where it lies. Alberich. From the hoard boldest thou thy hand ? Siegfried. 215 Wanderek. Whom I love, he walks with his will to lead him ; to stand or to sink, himself he steers ; little but heroes I look to. Alberich. I wrestle Mime alone for the ring ? Wanderer. Beside thee he only seeks it at all. Alberich. And yet likely am I to lose ? Wanderer. To loose the hoard a hero nears ; two Nibelungs gape for the gold ; Fafner falls, who the ring withholds ; let the hand have, that can reach it ! — Is more thy want ? The Worm awaits ; warn him from death away, swiftly he deals thee the wealth. — I'll wake him for thee myself ! — {_He turns towards the background.') Fafner ! Fafner 1 Awaken, Worm ! Alberich {to himself in expectant wonder). Can he mean so madly ? Make me its master ? 2 1 6 Siegfried. (Out of the gloomy depths of the background is heard) Fafner's (voice'). Who slackens my sleep ? Wanderer. To help thee in need, at hand is a neighbour ; thy loss of life he hinders, buy'st thou of him the boon with the hoard thy body harbours. Fafner. What will he ? Alberich. Waken, Fafner ! Waken, thou Worm ! A hero hither strides, thy holy strength to withstand. Fafner. He makes me food. Wanderer. Full is the youngster's might, fiercely swings his sword. Alberich. The golden ring rouses his greed ; hand it for meed to me, I help thee from harm; thou savest the hoard, and soundly livest long ! Fafner (yawning). I lie and beset it ; — ■ let me slumber ! Siegfried. 217 Wanderer iptitghs aloud). So, Alberich, missed thy aim ! Yet rate me rogue no more ! A thing I warn thee ; think of it well ; all is but after its kind ; and it — canst thou not alter. — I free thee the place, plant thyself fast ! Be bold with Mime, thy brother ; for so thou wilt serve thyself better. What's otherwise awake to as well ! (.He disappears in the wood. A storm-wind rises and quickly ceases again. ) Alberich (.after looking long aftd fiercely after him). He rides with hasting horse on his road ; he heaps me with scath and scorn ! But let them laugh, the loose-hearted and hard-hankering gang of the gods ! I'll see them all safe to their end ! As long as gleams the gold in the light, last a watcher his wits ! — Let them wince at his war ! (.Day begins to dawn. Alberich hides himself aside among the clefts^ (J\fime and Siegfried enter as the day is breaking. Siegfried carries the sword in a belt. Mime carefully examines tfte plate, searches at last towards the background which — while the rising ground in the middle is later continually more and more lighted by the sun — remains concealed in dark shadow, and calls Siegfrieds attention.') Mime. Behold the hollow ; rest is at hand ! 2 18 Siegfried. Siegfried (seats himself under a great lime-tree). Here fits me to learn my lesson ? — Far I have let thee lead me ; all night in fullest forest we fared with no one near ; henceforward, Mime, I meet thee no further ! Find I not now what I need to know, alone forth I shall follow, and leave thee fully at last ! Mime {seats himself opposite kim, so thai he still always keeps the caverft in sig Boy, believe me ! Learn'st thou not thy lesson nimbly here, in farther haunt — at further day — dear would its fruit be deemed. — ■ Mark how gapes and grins the gloomy mouth ! Awake there sits inside a wayward Worm ; endlessly hateful he is to behold ; a threatening throat asunder he thrusts \ with hide and hair the heartless dog will bolt thee bodily down. Siegfried. His gullet's gape I shall fetter before it so far will have gone. Mime. Scathing spittle he scatters in spouts ; Siegfried. 219 soon as the slaver soaks in thy flesh, it sickens and sears it Uke fire. Siegfried. To be spattered not by the spittle, aside from his sight I shall spring. Mime. His wrinkled tail towers in rings ; let it but reach thy limbs and gird them round, thy bones will be broken like glass. Siegfried. As it swings, my eye will be on it, so that it sweep me not up. — But warn me at once ; has the Worm a heart ? Mime. A wicked and hateful heart ! Siegfried. And bears it where for each it beats, other be he or beast ? Mime. Why yes, youngster, so wears it the Worm ; more known is fear to thee now ? Siegfried. Nothung's steel if I stick in his heart, will fear be the hint I follow ? Siegfried. So, old idler, only such is all that thy lead can aid me to learn ? Halt with me here no fijf ther ; fear I am hopeless to find. Mime. Yet awhile wait ! What I have told thee weigh for untimely talk ; his body here thou'lt barely behold, ere wit will be weak in thy head ! When astray is thy sight, when staggers thy step, when thy bosom hardly bears thy heart ; — thou'lt heed how Mime has led thee, and hate him no more for his love ! Siegfried {.leaps anally «;>). No love will I suffer ! Said I not so ? Forth from before my look ; leave me alone ; for long will not stand it my strength, turn'st thou to talk of thy love ! Thy wearisome nodding and nasty winking, — when will the sight no more be seen ? When may I be free of the fool ? Mime. Already I run ; I'll rest and watch the well. Siegfried, Hold thyself here ; soon the sun will be high ; wait for the Worm, from the hole he hither will wind, through the wood thrust his way, to wet his thirsty whistle. Siegfried {laughing). Lay thy length at the well, the Worm will be wanting not long ; Nothung's cold I will keep from his kidneys, till he is ware of thy taste in water ! — So weigh soundly my words, — sit not beside the well ; forth on thy feet both fast and far, — with me no more be found ! Mime. But after the fray, may I not fetch drink to befriend thy dryness ? — Hail me aloud long'st thou for help, — or if fear should befall thee at last. iSies fried with an impetuous gesture motions him to go. ) Mime {to himself t as he departs). Fafner and Siegfried — Siegfried and Fafner — may each be eased of his foe ! {He goes dock into the wood.) Siegfried {alone. He seats himself again under the great lime-tree). To find my father not him, how happy at heart I feel ! 222 Siegfried. At last the forest is fresh and hve ; at last laughs to me light of the day, for he's safe from my sight indeed, not again to get to my side ! f^A thougkt/ul silence.') How seemed my father in face ? — Ha ! — why, such as myself; had Mime a son to be met, must he not look • Mime's likeness ? None the less nasty, grubby and gray, bunched and bent, limping and little, as big in his ears and as bleared in his eyes ? . . . Fie on the fright ! I'll meet his face no more. He leans hack and looks up through the houghs of the tree. Long silence. Sound of the forest^ Less can I learn what my mother was like ! Fails wholly to find her my fancy ! — The gaze of a doe doubtlessly dwelt with full dawn in her face — or something sweeter ! — But when in woe she bore me, what brought her to death that day ? Is it that men have mothers who all and always die of their sons ? Such were sorrow indeed ! — Siegfried. 223 Ah ! — might her son his mother see ! — My — mother ! — My father's mate ! — (He sighs and leans fiirlher back. Long silence.— The singing of the birds at last fastens his attention. He listens to a beautiful bird abmie him.) Thou winsome singer ! From whence is thy song ? Hast thou thy home in the wood ? — What stammers he still so sweetly ? To me something he says, — perhaps — he has heard of my mother ? — A moody dwarf muttered one day, that the talk of birds in truth can be taught, their song made into meaning ; but what should seem the way? {He muses. His eye falls on a clump of reeds not far from the lime-tree.) Hi ! I will see, send his song in the reed's sound to him rightly ! If straight, without words, the strain I can waken, sing his tongue to him truly, I shall learn before long what he says. {He has cut down a reed with his sward, and makes a pipe out of it.) He Stops and turns ; — my talk I will start ! {He tries with the reed to imitate the song of the bird ; he cannot do it ; he shakes his head often in discouragement ; at last he gives up the attempt. ) It runs not so ; on the reed I wrong the song of its buoyant sound. — Bird, I will own my ear is bad ; thy call ill it has caught ! — 2 24 Siegfried. In shame I am lost as he lurkingly listens, I know he learns from me nothing ! — Better my horn will be for his heed ; from the stumbling stalk I no more will stand. — Now thou shalt see and say if I know, a sound that is fit for the forest. I have lured for the face of a friend with it long ; no better I brought than wolf and bear. Hark, while I find if here it will fetch me a friend and lover at last ? {_He has thrown away the pipe and blows now a lively tune on his Utile silver horn,) (A stirring is heard in the hackground. Fa/ner, in the fonn of an enormous lizard-like snake, has raised himselffroin his bed in the cavern; he breaks through the thicket and rolls himself/onuard out of the hollow to the higher ground, so that he has already reached it with the foremost part of his body. He now utters a loud yawning sound,) Siegfried {turns round, perceives Fafner, looks at him in wonder and laughs). The blessing I hoped have I blown to me hither ? The looks of a lover thou hast ! Fafner i.has halted at sight of Siegfried), Who is here ? Siegfried. Ey ! bides there a turn in the beast for talk, from his mouth I may meet with tidings ! — Of fear nothing at all I know ; like am I now to learn it ? Siegfried. 225 Fafner. Thy mettle masters thee ? Siegfried. Mettle or mastery — what matters ? But woe waits for thy body, fail'st thou to bring me to fear ! Fafner {laughs). Water I wanted ; and meat's by the way ! {,He opens his jaws and shows his teeth.) Siegfried. How sweetly thy swallow takes to its song ; turns in its laughter thy teeth to light ! Needs I must narrow thy gullet ; thy jaws are greatly ajar ! Fafner. For waste of words it fits not well ; to gape and feed with, the gullet's good. i^He threatens with his tail. ) Siegfried. Hoho ! thou mad, unmannerly host, to fill thy maw I feel no fancy ; fitting and fair I deem it to fix to-day for thy death. Fafner {roars'). Pruh ! boy, follow thy boast ! 2 26 Siegfried. Siegfried {gTOsps his sword), Bellower, catch him ; the boaster comes ! (,He places himself opposite Fafiier^ -who lifts himself further fonvard on to the high ground and spits at him with his nostrils. Siegfried springs aside. Fafner swings forward his tail to catch Siegfried, who avoids it by leaping over the hack of the Worm ; as the tail quickly follows and almost seizes him, Siegfried wounds it with his sword. Fafner quickly withdraws his tail, roars and lifts thefore-part of his body in order to throw himself towards tlie side with his full weight upon Siegfried ; he thus exposes to him his breast ; Siegfried quickly discovers the place of his heart and plunges his sword into it, up to the hilt. Fafner rears still higher with the pain and sinks, as Siegfried lets go the sword and springs aside, heavily down on the wound.) Siegfried. Enough, blustering knave, bears of Nothung thy bosom ? Fafner. {Tvith weaker voice). Thou hardy boy, who art thou — to have hurt my heart ? Who darkened thy childish mood to the murdering deed ? Unwarned bred not thy brain what thou hast worked. Siegfried. Much never I knew, have heard hardly my name ; thy work was it that stirred my mind to the merciless strife. Fafner. Thou lad unlearned of thyself, with sun in thy look ; whom thou hast murdered hear from me. The towering team that once with weight had trodden the world, Fasolt and Fafner, the brothers both have now fallen Siegfried. 227 For the gold that came in curse from the gods, Fasolt fiercely I killed ; the Worm who here harboured the wealth, Fafner, the race's last, a rosy fighter has felled. — Be on thy guard, blossoming boy, for harm awaits him who holds the hoard ; who set thee blind to the deed, he is busy himself for thy death. {Expiring^ Mark my meaning ; — hark to me ! Siegfried. The kin I am bred from yet to me break ; wide, as thou diest, deem I thy wisdom ; seek in my name the knowledge ; Siegfried — know for its sound. Fafner. Siegfried . . . ! {He groans, lifts himself arid dies,") Siegfried. The dead can lift no darkness. — My living sword shall lead me alone ! (Fafner, in dying, has rolled on to his side. Siegfried draTus the sword out of his breast ; in doing this his hand is wetted with the hlood ; he wrings his hand violently.) Like fire bites the blood ! 2 28 Siegfried. {^Involuntarily he puts his Jingers to his mouth to suck the blood from them. As he looks vacantly before him- in thought^ his attention is suddenly fettered by the song of the wood-birds. He holds his breath and listens.) Something has turned the sound of the birds into tidings ; words above me are whispered ! Brought it about the taste of the blood ? — How madly here he sings ! Hark, what means the song ? — Voice of a Wood-bird {in the lime-tree). Hi ! Siegfried shall have now the Nibelungs' hoard, for here in the hole it awaits his hand ! Let him not turn from the tarn-helm, it leads him to tasks of delight ; but finds he a ring for his finger, the world he will rule with his will ! Siegfried. Thanks for thy bidding, thou thoughtful bird ; fair find I its bent. {He goes to the cavern and passes down into it, where he at once completely disappeared {Mime creeps fonuard, looking cautiously about, to assure himself oj Fafner^s death. At the same time from the other side Alberich comes forward out of the clefts ; he carefully matches Mime. As the latter, seeing nothing of Siegfried, turns himself heedfully towards the cave at the back, Alberich hastens towards hitn and stops the way.) Alberich. How far slink'st thou slily so fast, slippery friend ? Siegfried. 229 19 Mime. My cursed brother I craved to bring ! What bade thee come ? Alberich. Greatens thy hand to have my gold, and gapes for my hoard ? Mime. Speed from amidst it, the spot is for me ; what makes thee its spy ? Alberich. Mar I thy step in matters of stealth, that stir thy mind ? Mime. What I have met by wearing means, must not be wasted. Alberich. Who was it that robbed the Rhine of gold for the ring ? Who was it begot and gave the spell to the gold ? Mime. Whence had the tarn-helm the hiding wonder it holds ? Thy wisdom was it that filled with it thy want ? Alberich. Whose hand would have forged it, had I not furthered his hammer ? The ring I made moulded thee first to the might ! 230 Siegfried. Mime. Where keep'st thou the ring ? To giants it came by thy kindness ! What thou forego'st I have gathered here in my guile. Alberich. Of the youngster's hand may I hope for no harvest ? It belongs to thee not, the lad is himself its lord ! Mime. 1 brought him up ; what he owes is it he brings ; of work and woe the meed I have watched for, I meet ! Alberich. For his nursing heed, hankers the nasty niggardly knave at last for nought to count lower than king ? The mangiest hound might for the hoop ■ be meeter than he ; hope not to get thy hand on its mastering gold ! Mime. Then make it thine, and guard with might the matchless ring ! Master be ; but me meet like a brother ! Give me the helm thou got'st from my hand ; hold to thy ring ; for, rightly halved, best is the hoard for us both. Siegfried. 231 Alberich Qaugking scorfi/ully). Share with thee so ? Let the tarn-helm slip ? Thy sleight is sly ! Safe and kind my sleep were seen in thy keeping ! Mime {beside himself). Make no bargain? Share no booty ? Bare shall I be ? Gather no gain ? Lose and leave thee the guerdon ? Alberich. Not a nail, that's now in the hoard, thou hast for thy hunger. Mime {in rage). Neither ring nor helm then reckon to handle ! Now, never I'll halve ! To my side for help I Siegfried will hail, with sweeping sword ; his ready hand shall bring thee, brother, to rights ! Alberich. Listen behind ; — from the hole ere long he is here. — Mime. Trash to have chosen I trust in the child. — Alberich He took the tarn-helm. — 232 Siegfried. Mime. . And keeps the ring ! — Alberich. Be cursed ! — The ring !■ — Mime [^laughs maliciously). Get it, while here he can give it ! It may not be his to-morrow ! {He slips back into the 'wood.') Alberich. And yet to its lord alone it at last shall be yielded ! {He disappears among the clefts.) {Siegfried, during the latter pari of what has just passed, has walked slowly and musingly forward fro fn the cavern with the tarn-helm and ring ; he looks thoughtfully at his booty and stops again, near the tree, on the height. Great silence.) Siegfried. How they are good I hardly guess ; I got them here from the heap of golden wealth, by kindly warning that came. I'll wear them that well of my deed they may witness ; their look shall unfold how I lightened Fafner of life, ei-e in fight he led me to fear ! {He puts the tam-hehn in his belt and the ring on his finger. Silence. Increasing sound of the forest. Siegfried is again involuntarily attracted by the bird and listens to it with suppressed breath.) Voice of the Wood-bird {in the lime-tree). Hi ■! Siegfried is holder of ring now and helm j but trust in Mime no more he may try ! Siegfried. 233 Siegfried, sharpen thy sense to the truthless sound of his tongue ; what he means at heart thou can'st hear from his mouth ; so helps thee the burn of the blood. (^Sieg/riects expression and gesture signify that he has understood all. He sees Mime approach an i remains in his position on the rising ground^ -without viovemsnty leaning on his sword, observant and selj- possessed until the end of the following scene. ) Mime {slowly drawing near). He wonders and weighs the booty's worth ; — waited there here a wily wanderer, loitered around and read to the lad the cunning of crafty runes ? Doubly deep must be now the dwarf; his keenest loops he is called on to lay, that so, with sweetened and sounding words, he may baffle the wilful boy ! [^He goes nearer to Siegfried.) Be welcome, Siegfried ! Say, my hero, help hast thou happed on tow'rds fear ? Siegfried. My teacher truly has failed. Mime. But the winding Worm to death thou hast wounded, — ■ too free was he deemed for a friend ? 234 Siegfried. Siegfried. Though grim and dreadful he was, his death wins me to grief, while much harmfuller wretches rest unmurdered behind him ! Who set me to slay the Worm, my hate to him is the worse. MiMB. But soft ! not long I live in thy sight ; with lasting sleep soon will thy look be allayed ! For all that I wanted thou wisely hast worked ; and here have I but to bring to my hand thy'booty ; — and in means I look not for failure ; a fool thou lightly art made ! Siegfried. So plot'st thou to seize my plunder ? Mime. How said I so ? — Siegfried, hear me, my son ! — Him and all his ways always well I have hated ; I bore not for love with the burdensome boy ; the gold here from Fafner's guard, the hoard to free was my hope. Let it at once and willingly loose, Siegfried, my son, or mark for thyself — thy life must not be longer ! Siegftied. 235 Siegfried. To learn thy hatred, lifts my heart ; but my life wilt thou have from me likewise ? Mime. Who owns it my aim ? Thou hast heard me ill ! {He ^hes himselfmost perceptible pains /or disguise. ) See, thou art weary and sore with work ; seethes in thy body the blood ; freshening fulness of frothy drink lagged not my love to draw. While thy blade was at bake, I saw to the broth ; sip it and let me seize on thy loving sword, with hoard at last and helm. {He chuckles,^ Siegfried. So both of my sword, and the boon of its battle, ring and booty, thou'lt rob me ? Mime. Wrongly thou readest me still ! Totters and stutters my talk ? The greatest toil I give my tongue, the hopes that I hold to keep from his hearing, and yet the witless youngster falsely fathoms my words ! HeedfuUy mark, and behold my mind ; hearken what Mime means ! — Drink, and freshen thy dryness ! Q 2 236 Siegfried. My draught has fed thee before ; be it with moody, mannerless brow, all that I offer at last is owned to thy liking. SlEGFRIEU {iviihout changing a feature). Of a wholesome drink here I dreamed ; how hast thou brewed what thou bring'st ? Mime. Hi ! but try it ; trust to my hand ! In night and numbness swiftly thy knowledge will sink ; without watch or wisdom, straight wilt thou be stiffened. Soon as thy heed halts — softly I seize the hoard into safety ; but if once thou awake, nothing can ward me out of thy aim — wraps me even the ring ! So, with the sword thou so well hast set, hence ere I go, I must get thy head, — that rest with the ring I may have ! {He chuckles again.') Siegfried. In midst of sleep thou wilt slay me ? Mime. What mean'st thou ? Sounded it so ? I shall but hew from thy shoulders thy head ! Siegfried. 237 For held I not near so whole a hate, nor had such a share of hardship and shame to veil with healing vengeance, it were light of my wisdom, if alive it left thee to hamper my hand in the business where Alberich also would be ! — Come, my Wolsung ! Wolf s-son, come ! Drink and do for thyself ! From further sip thou art free ! {He lias gone close up to Siegfried a-nd reaches to him now^ with repulsive imfiortunitvt a drink-horn into -which he has previously poured the drink out of a vessel. Siegfried has already grasped his sword and mnVj as if in a fit of impetuous disgust^ strikes Mime with a blow dead to the ground. Alberich is heard from the hollows ^ as he bursts into mocking laughter.') Siegfried. Taste of my sword, sickening talker ! Meed for hate Nothung makes ; work for which he was mended ! i^He seizes Mime's body, drags it to the cavern, and throws it in.) In the hole below lie on the hoard ! With greed and guile thou mad'st at the gold, now sway without measure its sweetness ! To a wakeful warder I help thy wealth ; wrap thee from robbers his heed ! (He rolls the body of the Worm before the entrance of the cave so as completely to stop it up.) Begone as well, gloomy Worm ! 238 Siegfried. The flickering hoard hold with the foe, who had feet so fast on its road ; to rest I have brought you both ! i^A/ter his "work he again comes forward. It is mid-day.) Warm made me the unwonted work ! — Fiercely blazes my flowing blood ; my head blisters my hand. — High seated in heaven the open sun sends its eye like an arrow whole at my head. — Shelter and coolness will come if I keep to the shadow ! i^H e stretches kiniself again U7ider the lime-tree. Great stillness. Sound 0/ the/orest. After a long silence^ Again, my bird, to greet me back from my long burdensome leave, send me loudly thy song ! On the branch thou sweetly swingest above me ; with chatter and chirp, thy brothers and sisters abound on the boughs at thy side ! — But look, — I am alone, own not others to love me ; my mother fled, my father fell, ere saw them their son ! — I dwelt with a sickening dwarf at my side ; love was lost between us little ; treacherous tricks he tried on my safety — and needfully now I have slain him ! — Siegfried. 239 Bird, of thy friendship I further will beg ; wilt thou not bring me the brother I want ? Hast thou the wisdom to help me ? I've lured him so long, with unbrightening luck ; hope I bear thy hap may be better ! Already hast thou been right ; so sing ! I hark for thy song. {Silence ; then) Voice of the Wood-bird. Hi ! Siegfried the slippery dwarf has slain ! Now, would he might win the lordliest wife ! ' Afar she sleeps on a height, a fire besets her hall ; he baffles the blaze, he wakens the bride, Briinnhild' he wins to his breast ! Siegfried {with sudden vehemence leaps up from his seat). O friendly song ! Freshening sound ! It sears its meaning's might in my soul ! To heat it strongly startles my heart ! What so can befall with fire my senses ? Sing it me, sweetest friend ! The Wood-bird. To sorrow of love's laughter I sing : set with its gladness grief in my song ; who long, they can grasp it alone ! 240 Siegfried. Siegfried. Wild welcome rouses my wayfare, right from the wood to the rock ! — But further tell to me faithful tidings ; her bed shall I find in the fire, win and awaken the bride ? The Wood-bird. To win the bride, Briinnhild' to wake, no coward nears ; none to whom fear is known ! Siegfried {laughs aloud for joy). The foolish boy, who is blinded to fear — than I no other is found ! To-day with toil I undauntedly tried if Fafner was fitted to teach it. 1 burn with delight to have Briinnhilde's lesson ; who leads me as far as her fire ? { The bird flutters up, floats (nier Siegfried, and flies away.) Siegfried ifixultingly). The road is ready before me ; my feet shall run me fast on thy flight ! {He hastens after the bird. — The curtaittfalls.) Siegfried. 241 THIRD ACT. Wild country. {A t the foot of a rocky height which an the left ascends steeply towards the back. Nighty stormy weather^ lightning and thunder. ) {fiefore tJie entrance of a grave-like hollow in the rock stands the) • Wanderer. Waken ! Waken ! Wala, awaken ! From lasting sleep I lead the slumberer loose. I lift thee with sound ; aloft ! aloft ! From depth without name, and darkness dimmer than night ! Erda ! Endless woman, awake ! From heart of thy hollow swim to the height ! I sing to wake thee, waste not my song ! From brooding sleep I bring thee to sight. All-weener of ere-world wisdom ! Erda ! Endless woman, awake ! Waken, thou Wala ! Awaken ! (.Light has began to dawn in the cavern ; Erda rises from the depth in a bluish gleam. She looks as if caaered with frost ; her hair and garments cast aglitnmerlng li^ht.) Erda. Sore strikes the song; strongly works the wonder ; from watchful sleep I waken away ; who sets my slumber wide ? 242 Siegfried. Wanderer. Thy summoner am I, and strains I open with strength to startle what sloth of sleep has stayed. The world with wayfare deeply I've worn, wooed it for tidings and tried for words of its wisdom. Filled with thy knowledge none I have found ; thou hearest whole what the deepness hides, in haunt or hill, wind and water, what heaves. Where life is lit thy breath is below it, of breeding brains thy thought is the bent ; nothing saves its name from thy sight. Tidings to take from thy knowledge, I now unseal thee from sleep ! Erda. My sleep is dream, my dream is drift, my drift is wielding of wisdom. But while I wake not, Norns are watchful; they work at the rope, and weave aright what I ween ; — the Norns are what thou needest ! Wanderer. With noise of the world the Norns are bewildered, and nothing at end can they alter ; thy wisdom was it that helped me with warning how to hinder a wheel in its whirl ? Siegfried. 243 Erda. Deeds of men with darkness daunt my mind ; my wisdom itself from might once suffered the worst. A wish-maiden I bore to Wotan \ he warned her hail heroes for him to Walhall. Bold was she and wise to boot ; why chafe my ease and choose to aid thee not Erda's and Wotan's child ? Wanderer. The Walkyrie mean'st thou, Briinnhild', the maid ? She warred with the steerer of storms, when his will he most strongly withstood; what the wielder of war had burned and worked for, and yet forbidden — with harm in his breast — dared, in unfit dream of his friendship, to do, for boon to her fancy, Briinnhild' in iiery fight. War-father fell on her fault ; her look he loaded with sleep ; on her height she slumbers hard ; she will not turn until she awake to the man who wins her for wife. How should she mix in my help ? Erda (is sunk in thoughi, and begins after lengthened silence). Wild seems it since 1 awoke ; 244 Siegfried. fast and fiercely wheels the world ! The Walkyrie, the Wala's child, chafed in hampering sleep, while slumbered her mother's heed ? — Who the scorn wakened, he scaths it as well ? Who the deed unbridled, he burns when it's done ? Who guards the right, he galls it like wrong ? Whom oaths are safe in, forswears he for sway ? — Send me hence from his sight ; sleep shall hinder ray hearing ! Wanderer. The mother speeds not from me, while the might of the spell is mine. — Ere- wisdom wielded'st thou once to sink a sorrow in Wotan's venturing soul ; to fear of shame and shelterless fall awoke him thy word until dread had darkened his will. Art thou the world's wariest woman, give me the way how to ease a god of his ill ! Erda. Not such thou art as thou sayest ! What sends thee wildly to harass the Wala here in her sleep ? Wilderer, let me away ! Spare me the lasting spell ! Siegfried. 245 Wanderer. Not such thou art as thou seemest ! Ere-mother-wisdom's end awaits her ; thy knowledge at Wotan's will is nothing. Know'st thou what now he wills ? Let it seize thy ear with its sound, ere thou slide for ever to sleep ! — My grief that the gods must wane is forgotten, since my wish so wills ! What in strain of wildering struggle I once unhopefully hailed, fast and freely here I help to fulfil ; swore I, in withering sickness, to night and the Niblung the world, the winsomest Wolsung away I name it to now. Whom I chose but never have neared to be known, a boy of nameless boldness, at none of my bidding, has reached the Nibelung's ring ; grudgeless as laughter, glad like love, he lames with his clearness Alberich's curse ; for far keeps from him fear. Her that thou borest me, Briinnhilde, he breaks sweetly from sleep ; wisely works thy wakening daughter a deed to unweight the world. — 246 Siegfried. So darken thy sight, dive to thy slumber ; see in thy dreams my downfall ! To what, not to wane from its youth, they waken — yearns the god as he yields. — So downwards, Erda ! Ere-mother-dread ! Era-sorrow ! To sleep without end, below ! Below ! — My look on Siegfried lights. — i^Erda sinks. The hollow has become again quite dark ; the Wanderer leans hiiuself against its rock UTid so awaits Siegfried. Faint moonlight partially lightens the scene. The storm ceases entirely.') Siegfried {joining infro>n the right in the foreground). My bird unfolded his wings ; — with fluttering flight and sounding song he wafted me sweetly away ; but now I see him not near. The rock I will seek to reach by myself ; the road I learned as he led I'll follow further along. {He goes farther towards the back.') Wanderer {^remaining in his position at the hollow). How far, youngster, flee'st thou beyond ? Siegfried. So some one speaks ; he'll speed me in my search. — To a rock I fare, whose rim is flooded with fire, where sleeps a woman I seek to wake. . Siegfried. 247 Wanderer. Who sent thee here to harm her slumber ; who set thy will on the woman ? Siegfried. I heard from a hailing bird on high ; he turned my head with tidings. Wanderer. A bird can chirp and chatter ; yet brings the sound no sense ; what moved thee to see his song had a meaning ? Siegfried. The blood of a wild unneighbourly Worm I felled in fight before Neid-hole ; its taste had barely burned my tongue, when I saw through the song of the birds. Wanderer. But so to have slain him, who made thee set thy weight to the mighty Worm's ? Siegfried. I followed Mime, a faithless dwarf; to teach me fear was his fancy ; the blow however that irked his breath, down on himself he drew, when he sundered at me his mouth. Wanderer. Who filled the sword with sharpness fit for a foe so strong to feel ? 248 Siegfried, Siegfried. I forged it myself, when the smith had failed ; or swordless I still had been found. Wanderer. But whence sprang the mighty splinters from which the weapon was made ? Siegfried. What matter to me ? — • I know no more than that fit they were for nothing, failed I to weld them anew. Wanderer {breaks 07ct in joyous good-htimoured laughter). So likewise I see ! Siegfried. What leads thee to laugh ? — Old asker, come to an end ; keep me no longer to listen ! Be swift and show me the way that I seek for ; but tells it nothing, tie up thy tongue ! Wanderer. Forbear, thou boy ! Old if I be, with heed it binds thee to hear me. Siegfried. Looks it not likely, when all my life my elder has always barred my business ? Barely I've swept him aside. Siegfried. 249 Let me be hindered here now no longer — or thyself see to, lest such, as Mime, thou meet ! {He goes up closer to the Wanderer.'} But what art thou like ? And wherefore live in so wide a hat ? Why hangs it so far on thy face ? Wanderer. I wear it in wanderers' manner, when they meet the might of the wind. Siegfried. But an eye below it thou lackest ! None else I know can have knocked it out, but one whose step thou unwisely withstood'st ! Hold thyself off, lest here in the end thou lose the light of the other ! Wanderer, I see, my son, to help thyself, where nought thou know'st, thou art handy. With the eye's aid, that is out of my head, thyself thou beholdest its fellow, that I saved to befriend me with sight. Siegfried {laughs'). Thy wit awakens my laughter ! — But here no longer I hearken ; so show me sharply my way, and be off at once on thy own ! For all else I find thou art ill ; now speak or forth from the spot ! 25° Siegfried. Wanderer. Knew'st thou me better, hardy boy, this hurt had'st thou forborne ! Hard on my heart are threats from one who so haunts it. Love is my wont to thy laughing ways, — still thou would'st ride not the storm of my wrath ; thou overlordly lad I delight in, bring me not to it now — it would scath and scatter us both ! Siegfried. Dwellest thou yet dauntless and dumb ? Yield, and beware me, for yonder the way seems to the woman who sleeps ; my bird had beheld it, who briskly broke from me here. i^lt becomes graduaUy again quite dark^ Wanderer {breaking out in anger). He left thee to save himself; the ravens' lord he believed I was ; woe to him that they hunt ! — - The way that he showed thee thou shalt not walk ! Siegfried. Ho, ho ! my forbidder ! Who must thou be, with right to bar my road ? Siegfried. 25 1 Wanderer. Cross not her ridge's keeper ! By me was wrapped in her sleep the slumbering maid ; he that awakes and openly wins her, mightless makes me for ever ! — With floods of fire the woman is fenced, redly it rushes and licks the rock ; he who finds the bride, must face the heat of her blaze. {He points with his spear.) Heighten thy look ! Behold'st thou the light ? — How flies the flame ! How flares the flood ! Withering blasts and wavering beacons leap, with the cry of their coming, below ! The full heat will hiss in thy face ; the sucking fire will sear thee to cinders ; — back, thou bridleless boy ! Siegfried. Aside, thou boaster, thyself ! Forth, where the flame is wildest, to Briinnhild' I break my way ! {He strides towards the rock.) Wanderer iySireiching out his spear). Hast thou no fear of the fire, my spear shall hinder thy speed ! R 2 252 Siegfried. Still masters my hand the heft of might ; the sword, that thou swing'st, once shivered on this shaft, and lo ! shall split again on the lasting spear ! Siegfried (drawing- his sword). So my father's foe here have I found ? Lordlily lit on my vengeance looks ! Hither thy spear ; my sword shall hew it in halves ! {He Jig fits with the Wanderer and cuts his spear in pieces, A terrible thunder-clap. ) Wanderer ig^iving way). Away ! my hand cannot hold thee ! {He disappears.) Siegfried. With his sundered weapon, slunk he to safety ? {With increasing brightness clouds of Jire have sunk down front the height of the background ; the whole stage is filled as with a heaving sea 0/ flame.) Siegfried. Ha, gladdening glow ! Lightening look ! Ways of fire widen before me,. — • In flame to be floated ! In blazes to fall on the bride ! Hoho ! Hoho ! Hahei ! Hahei ! Listen ! Listen ! A comrade I come to at last ! {He puts his horn to his mouth and, blowing his tune, plunges into the fire. The fianies pour themselves now also over the whole foreground. Siegfried. 253 Siegfried's horn is heard, first fiearer then farther. The clouds of fire tno7>e continually frojn Back to front, so that Siegfried^ whose horn is heard again nearer, seems to turji himself towards the back up the height^ {At length the fire begins to grow paler ', it dissolves, as it were, into a fine transparent veil, which now also fully clears off, and discloses the brightest blue sky in broadest daylight. The scene, from which the clouds have entirely disappeared, represents the top of a rocky height {as in the third act of the *' IValkyrie") ; on the left the entrance to a natural rocky chamber ; on the right broad fir-trees ; the background quite open. In the foreground, under the shadow of a spreading fir-tree, lies Briinnhilde indeep sleep; she is in complete and shining ar^nour of mail, with Her helmet on her head and her long shield covering her. Siegfried, in the background, has just reached the rocky border of the height. [His horn had at last again sounded further off , till it entirely ceased.] He looks about him in wonder.) Siegfried. Wilderness happy on high in the sun ! — {Looking into the wood.) What waits asleep in the shadowy wood ? — A horse, see, hidden in slumber here ! {He steps completely on to the height, and strides slowly further forward ; when, still at some distance, he sees Briinnhilde he stops in wonder.) What blinds me with its brightness ? It strikes like the blaze of steel ! Stares me the fire still in the face ? — {He goes nearer.) Lightening weapons !— Lift I their weight ? {He lifts off the shield and sees Briinnhilde' s face, which is still however, to a great extent, covered by the helmet.) Ha ! A man in his mail ! — How sweetly moves me the sight ! — The binding helm burdens his head ! 254 Siegfried. Loosened it lets him softlier lie. {Jie carefully unfastens the helmet andlifis itjroin the sleeper's head; lotig Rowing hair breaks forth. Siegfried starts,} Ha! Behold! (He remains lost in the sight.) Billows of cloud that brimmingly border a lake of hazeless heaven ! Laughter a face of fathomless sun sends through the mustering mist ! {He listens to her breathing.) With swell of its breath the bosom is swung ; — break I the hampering harness ? (ffe tries with great care to unfix the armour^ but in vain.) Out, my sword, sever the iron ! {.He cuts through with tender caution the rings of the -mail on both sides of the whole armour^ and then lifts off the coat and greaves so that Briinn- liilde lies before him in soft womanly garments. He starts up in surprise and wonder.) No man it was ! — Maddening wonders hap to my heart ; fiery sickness falls on my sight ; my senses totter and turn I — From whom shall I call help to me hither? — Mother ! Mother ! Beware for me ! — {He drops his jorehead on Brilnnhildes bosom. Long silence. He then sighs and starts ujt.) How waken the maid, to measure her look for its meaning ? To measure its meaning ? Blind to be made with the blaze ? Dare it be done ? Siegfried. 255 The light were a death ! — What rocks and swings and sways me around ? Withering words are said to my senses ; my shelterless heart shakes here in my hand ! — What makes me falter ? — What means my faintness ? — O mother ! Mother 1 Thy manful son ! A woman sleeps by the way, and flusters his soul with fear ! — How deal with my heart ? How help the dread ? — To awake myself, the maid besides I must waken ! — Sweetly mocks me her blossoming mouth ; it moves for my kiss to be made in its midst ! — Ah ! to be smothered in warmth of its wildering smell ! — Awaken ! Holy woman, awake ! — No look she lifts. — - For life I will suck her lips of their sweetness — or light in the deed upon death ! (,He kisses her long and fervently. He then starts up in alarm ; Briinn- hilde has opened her eyes. He looks at her in wonder. Both remain /or same time lost in the sight of each other.') Brunnhilde {sloTvly and solemnly rising to a sitting posture). Sun, I hail thee ! Hail thee, light Hail thee, slumberless day 256 Siegfried. Deep was my sleep ; its dreams are done ; warn me what hero wakens me here ? Siegfried (^solemnly struck by her look and voice), I have fought the fire of thy flaming height ; I unfastened thy holding helm ; Siegfried was it, who woke thee so. Brunnhilde {^sitting fully up), Gods, I hail you ! Hail thee, world ! Hail thee, earth in thy heaven ! At last my slumber swerves ; my sight leads me ; Siegfried is it, who ends my sleep ! Siegfried (in loftiest transport). The mother hail, who made me a man ; earth, who fed and fostered me on, till here I lit on the look, that laughs my heart from its harm ! Brunnhilde {uiit/i greatest emotion). The mother hail, who made thee a man ; earth, who fed and fostered thee on ; for thy look only I lay, to other would not awake ! — O Siegfried ! Happy hero to see ! Siegfried. 257 Thou lifter of life ! Thou mastering light ! O wealth of the world, behold how I have loved thee long ! Thou wert my sorrow, and song as well ! I gave thee unbegotten my guard ; unborn — in its shelter bound thee my shield ; such was my love for thee, Siegfried ! Siegfried (^softly and shyly). So slept my mother merely ? Left a little her son ? Brunnhilde {^smiling). Thou capturing child ! Thou wilt come no more on thy mother. — Thyself am I, soon as thy love thou hast owned. What thou not knowest know I for thee ; and light is lent me, because only I love thee. — Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Wakening sun ! 1 loved thee always ; for I alone of Wotan's aim was a witness ; that I dared not to know by the name he dealt it ; that I might not fathom and merely could feel ; for which I faced warfare and work ; for which I thwarted him who had thought it ; 258 Siegfried. for which I suffered shackles of sleep, when I failed to think it and only felt ; since to me wholly — so must thou see it !— like love for thee, Siegfried, it looked ! Siegfried. A wonder sounds its word in thy song ; but dark I deem it of sense. Below thy lids I behold the light ; with the wind thy breath has blown, I am warm, that thy tongue is sweet of sound I can tell ; but what thou say'st in thy song hides from my wildered heed. The farness but dimly dawns in my fancy, while all my senses can see and seize on thee only. — The clasping dread clings like a dream ; no fear I felt till I came to thy face. Unfix my manhood from might of thy fetters ; give it to freedom again ! Brunnhilde (kai>s him gently off, and turns her look towards the wood). — At hand is Grane, my happy horse ; how sweetly he browses, who by me slept, for Siegfried awoke him as well. Siegfried. 259 Siegfried. My look on thy lips its hunger has lightened ; with fathomless thirst my mouth is on fire, till the food of my eyes shall have fed it. Brunnhilde {pointing •with her hand). — And here is my shield, that sheltered heroes ; the helm that held in its midst my head ; it helps and hides me no more ! Siegfried. 1 was harmed by a happy maid to the heart ; hurts from a woman heaped on my head ; — I shared not in helm or shield ! Brunnhilde {with, increased sadness). Now meets me the streaming steel of my mail ; a shearing sword sundered its seams ; from the limbs of the maid it is loosened and lost ; — to the last I am stripped of my strength, and am left a woman of woe ! Siegfried. Through towering fire I trod to thy face ; my bosom of harbouring harness was bare ; deeply my breast is drenched with the blazes, to flowering flame my blood they have flushed ; 2 6o Siegfried. it bites with withering wounds in my body ; the heat, that branded Briinnhilde's height, has burnt me here to the bone ! — Thou woman, slacken its surge ! Weaken its maddening might I {_He unpetuously embraces her; she leaps up, holds him off •with ihe strength of extre-mest dread, andjlies to the otlter side.) Brunnhilde. No god's grasp have I met ; the heroes meetly hailed me as maiden ; holy went I from Walhall ! — Woe ! Woe ! Woe for the sheer unwavering shame ! Who wakes the maid, he wounds her as well ! He has broken harness and helm ; Briinnhild' no further is found ! Siegfried. Unmoved I deem the maid from her dreams ; Briinnhilde's sleep soundly abides. A woman awaken to be ! Brunnhilde. My senses unsettle ! My knowledge sinks ; wanes from me now my wisdom ? Siegfried. What made thee sing thy wisdom meant the light of thy love to me ? Siegfried. 261 Brunnhilde. Drearily loses my look the day ; my sight is listless, no light I see ; deep is the night ; a snake from the dark dreadly is sent to seethe and surge ! Horror hisses and hurls up its head ! (She vehemently covers her eyes with her hatuL.) Siegfried (softly loosens her hands from her eyes) . Night befalls the eyes that are fastened ; with the fetters, dwindles the fitful dread ; dawn from thy darkness and see — broad is the blaze of the sun ! Brunnhilde (in greatest distress) . Sun, that swells high for the sight of my harm ! — O Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Hear me beseech ! Always was I, always would be, haunted with hope's hungering sweetness — and always to save thy ill ! — O Siegfried ! Lightener ! World's delight ! Life of the earth, and laughing lord ! Leave, ah, leave, leave me unlost ! 26z Siegfried. Force on me not thy fiery nearness ! Shiver me not with thy shattering will, and lay me not waste in my love !- •Struck thee thy face in the staying stream ? Stirred thee not sweetly the sight ? Once, if thou startle the water to waves, the floor of the flood is broken and fled ; thy face falters and fades in the blinding beat of its breast. So leave it unwronged, wreck not my rest ; let thyself — seen in me so — a glad and gladdening hero hail thee on without end ! — O Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Lightening lad ! Love — thyself, and loose from my side; O end not what is thy own ! Siegfried. I — love thee ; love me no less ! No more am I mine ; be given to me ! — A freshening water fills and flows ; with soul and senses all that I see is the bounding bountiful billow ; what if my likeness is lost in the whirl ? Myself in the flood 1 fling like a fire ! Siegfried. 263 I spring from my spot ! I startle the stream ! O beat me with billows ! O swallow me sweetly ! My want shall sink in thy waves ! — Awaken, Briinnhilde ! Waken, thou maid ! Live to me ! Laugh to me, sweetest delight ! Be mine ! be mine ! be mine ! Brunnhilde. Siegfried, when was I not so ? Siegfried. Such as thou hast been be to me here ! Brunnhilde. Thine only 1 always will be ! Siegfried. All that thou wilt be show me at once ! When I have felt and folded thee fast ; beaten my heart home at thy bosom ; blazed in thy glance and gathered thy breath — eye on eye — mouth in mouth — then mine thou art, as always thou wilt be and wast ! But doubt is undaunted and deep, till Briinnhilde burns hke a bride ! {JHe has embraced her.) 264 Siegfried. Brunnhilde. Till Briinnhild' burns ?— Gone is my godly rest and forgotten ; my faltering star thunders with fire ; wisdom is caught and whirled in a wind ; love with his laughter strikes it like storm ! — Till Briinnhild' burns ? Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Where is thy sight ? With the blaze of my eyes why art thou not blind ? Where my arm is set, unseared is thy side ? Where my blood in its storm to thee boundlessly streams, the wasting fire wilt thou not feel ? Failest thou fully, Siegfried, to fear, the mad mastering maid ? Siegfried. Ha!— Now our hearts are hot on each other ; now our looks with answers are lighted ; now our arms are hurt as they hold us— meets me again my manful mood, and the fear, alas ! 1 had failed to learn — the fear thou had'st half helped me to feel — I find — like a fool — I again have fully forgotten ! {With the last words he involuntarily lets Briinnhilde go.) Siegfried. 265 Brunnhilde i^ildly laughing aloud in highest exultation oj love). O lordliest boy ! lad without better ! Of highest deeds thou heedless haunt ! Laughter leads me to love thee ; laughter lights me to blindness ; laughter we both will be lost in — laughter shall fill our fall ! — Away, Walhall's lightening world ! In dust with thy teeming towers be down ! Farewell, greatness and gift of gods ! End in bliss, thou unwithering breed ! You Norns, unravel the rope of runes ! Darken upwards, dusk of the gods ! Night of annulment, near in thy cloud ! — 1 stand in sight of Siegfried's star ; for me he was and for me he will be, own and always, one and all ; lighting love and laughing death ! Siegfried (^Tvith Brunnhilde'). Laughter awakes the woman to me; Eriinnhilde lives ! Briinnhilde laughs 1 — 2 266 Siegfried. Hail the sun, that sees us here ! Hail the day we behold in heaven ! Hail the blaze, that of night is born ! Hail the world, where Briinnhild' awakes ! She wakes ! She lives ! She lures me with laughter ! Broadly strikes me Briinnhilde's star ! For me she was and for me she will be, own and always, one and all ; lighting love . and laughing death ! iBrunnhilde throws herself into SiegfrietTs artns. — The curtain falls^ THIRD DAY. DUSK OF THE GODS. PERSONS. Siegfried. GUNTHER. Hagen. Alberich. Brunnhildp.. GUTRUNE. Waltraute. The Norms. The Rhine-Daughters. Men. Women. DUSK OF THE GODS. PRELUDE. On the Walkyrie-Rock. ( The scene is the same as at the endo/thesecondday. Sight. Out of the depth of the background rises the gSw of fire. ) The Three Noms. {Tallfemalefgures, in. longdark veil-like garments hanging infolds. The First, the eldest, lies in the foreground under the •wide-spreading fir-tree on the right; the Second, younger, is stretched on a bank of stone in front of the cavern in the rock ; the Third, the youngest, sils in the middle of the background on a rock at the edge of the height. For some time they guard a gloomy silence.^ The First Norn {without moving). What light lifts itself? The Second. Dawns on us day so soon ? The Third. Loge's host has heed, and reddens the rock. Night is safe ; why spin we and sing we not now ? The Second (to the First). What, while we sing to and spin it, serves for rest to the rope ? The First Norn {raises herselj and, during her song, fastens one end of a golden rope to a branch of ike fir-tree). For grief or good to grow, so set I the rope — and sing. — At the world-ash I wove it once, when broadly stood about the stem its woods of whispering boughs ; 272 Dusk of the Gods. in shade they shed it — showered a well, words of wisdom went in its waves ; I sat and sang to its song. — A dauntless god drew for drink to its gleam, where he left in endless payment the light of an eye ; from the world-ash ere Wotan went he broke a bough ; for a spear the staff he split with strength from the stem. — The wound, by dint of days, deepened its way in the wood ; the leaves turned till they loosened, drought dwindled the tree ; drearily waned of its drink the well ; darkly swerved and drooped my song. For me to weave at the world-ash is no more, now fast to the fir the rope for its rest I must fix ; sing, O sister, — I send it so — heard'st thou how it happed ? The Second Norn {while she winds the rope thrown to her round a jutting rock at the entrance of the cavern). Binding runes of unbending bargains Wotan sunk in the weapon's shaft ; he held with its hold the world. A hardy hero hewed the weapon in war ; Dusk of the Gods. 273 in splinters bounded the bargains' harbouring spear. — Soon sent Wotan Walhall's warmen, the world-ash's withering arms, with the stem, asunder to sever ; - so fell the ash, and wasted for ever the well ! — I bind to-day to the biting rock the rope ; sing, O sister, — I send it so — deem'st thou why it's done ? The Third Norn {patching the rope and throwing its end behind her). By giants built abides the abode ; with the gods and the holy host of his heroes Wotan sits in the hall. In lofty layers lies the wood ; round the hall high they have heaped it ; the world-ash once it was ! Burns the heap once holily, wildly and well, sears the heat swiftly from sight the hall, the end of the gods is on them, upward darkens their doom. — If yet you know, be ready anew for the rope ! Again from north I give it thy grasp ; spin, O sister, and sing ! (She has thrown the rope to the Second Norn, who has thrown it on again to the First.) 2 74 Dusk of the Gods. The First Norn (loosens the rope from the bottgh, and, during the/ollowing song, fastens it again to another branch). Day is it dawns, or the flame is it flickers ? My look fails of its light ; no way behold I such holy wont as when Loge burned lightly with laughing blaze ; heard'st thou what happed to him? The Second Norn {again winding the rope thrown to her round the rock). By his weapon's wonder Wotan withheld him ; help he gave to the god ; on the runes that fixed him, fiercely for freedom fell the touch of his tooth ; till, with the wakeful sway of his weapon, Wotan for beacon set him to Briinnhilde's slumber ; — heed'st thou what grows from him ? The Third Norn (who has again caught the rope, and throws it behind iter). With the shattered spear's unshapen splinters Wotan hurts him once home to his fiery heart ; flows from the wound withering flame, that Wotan aims at the world-ash as it lies aloft in its layers.— Seek you word when such will be seen, reach me, sisters, the rope ! (She throws the rope to the Second, who throws it again to the First.) Dusk of the Gods. 275 The First Norn [once more tnakingfast the rope). The night wanes ; wisdom is with it ; I find no further fitly the threads ; the rope is ravelled and thin. A sickening sight thrills and thickens my sense ; — the Rhinegold writhes in Alberich's grasp ! — Tell what he turned it to ! Thk Second Norn {wiik arun'ous haste ivinding the rope round the rock). The rock has tried its tooth on the rope ; the strands no more are steady and straight ; the web wildly is wound. From wrath and wrong rises the Nibelung's ring \ a wildering curse works in the woof of the cord ; see'st thou what it will send ? The Third Norn {hastily seizing the rope as it comes towards her). Too loose is the rope, to reach the length ! Now ere I aim the end of it northwards, harder let it be hauled ! ( ^he pulls strongly at the rope ; it breaks in the middle.) The Second. It parts ! The Third. It parts ! The First. It parts ! 276 Dusk of the Gods. {In terror^ the Three Norns have started up, and come together towards the Miiddle of the stage ; they seize the bits of the sundered rope, and with them bind their bodies to each other.') The Three Norns. Away now is our knowledge ! The world meets from wisdom no more ; below to Mother, below ! (They disappear.) {The daylight, which has at the last been gradually waxing, pours fully in, and dims the glow of the fire in the depth.) (Siegjried and Brilnnhilde enter from the cavern. Siegfried is in full armour ; BrUnnhilde leads her horse by the bridle.) Brunnhilde. From deeds and dangers, dearest hero, to hold thee long how were it love ? A single sadness lets me linger ; my worth so little it was to win ! — From gods I had gathered what I gave ; rich was the hoard of holy runes ; but all the maiden stay of my might stoi'n has the hero, whom here I stoop to. — Of wisdom bare^ though her wish abounds ; alive with love — though strength she has lost ; let not the woman's worth be little, who grudges nothing — but gives not again ! Dusk of the Gods. 277 Siegfried. More gav'st thou, woman, to me than well my grasp can wield ; and chide not, if thy lessons, I own, are left unlearned ! The knowledge I need is mine — for me Briinnhild' abides ; and the lesson was light that means — mindful to be of Briinnhild' ! Brunnhilde. Seek'st thou thy love to send me, be mindful but of Siegfried, about thy deeds be mindful ! Forget not the girding fire, that found thee swift and fearless, when its blaze beset my bed — Siegfried. Briinnhild' for bride to win ! Brunnhilde. Forget not the woman whose shield was her wasting slumber's shelter, till thou brok'st the hasp of her helm — Siegfried. Briinnhild' for wife to waken ! Brunnhilde. Forget not the oaths we gave together ; forget not the truth we ^uard between us ; forget not the love our life belongs to ; and Briinnhild' will burn unhindered, hallowed and whole in thy breast ! — 278 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. Love, ere I leave thee behind in the holy fold of the fire, for gift against thy runes thou hast from my hand a ring ; of a. deed I did the good is guarded in its gold, when I loosed from the world a Worm who fiercely fostered it long. Now mindfully treat its might, as greeting got from my truth ! Brunnhilde. I grasp it as all my good ; for the hoop thy own is my horse ! Mixed he once his mane in the wind at my warning — with mine the might of his ways has waned ; over streaming storms, through thickening thunder, no more goes he as mate of the gale. But the way of thy feet • — flows it with fire — Grane ungrieved will follow ; to thee, O hero, wholly he hearkens ! Uphold him well ; he heeds thy word ; — O make to Grane oft greeting from me ! Siegfried. By might thou findest for *ne must so my searches be furthered ? Is thy help to fix my fights, will their fruit go home to thy hand ? With horse of thine to hold me — Dusk of the Gods. 270 in shelter of thy shield — hereafter is Siegfried unseen ; I am but Briinnhilde's arm ! Brunnhilde. O were she the soul of Siegfried ! Siegfried. The heart I bear is of hers ! Brunnhilde. So wert thou Siegfried and Briinnhild'. Siegfried. Where goes he both are together. Brunnhilde. And my rock is bereft and cold ? Siegfried. It keeps both in its bounds. Brunnhilde. O hallowing gods, upholders of heaven ! Fix in your eyes the unaltering pair ! Apart — set not asunder ! Asunder — put not apart ! Siegfried. Hail to Briinnhild', broadening star ! Hail, lightening love ! Brunnhilde. Hail to Siegfried, heightening sun ! Hail, lightening life ! Both. Hail ! Hail ! {Siegfried leads the horse down the rock ; Brilnnhilde, in rapture^ looks long after him from ike edge of the height. From the depth is heard the joyous sound of Siegfried^ s horn. — The curtain falls.) 28o Dusk of the Gods. FIRST ACT. The GiMchungs' Hall on the Rhine, (Jt is quite open towards the hack- ground, which includes a free space of shore reaching to the river ; rocky heights border the space.) Gunther, Hagen, and Gut-rune. {Gunthcr and Gutrune on the seat of honour, before uohich stands a table withdrinkingvessels ; Hagen is sitting at it.) Gunther. Now, hark, Hagen ! Tell me with heed, if Gunther rests at the Rhine fairly to Gibich's fame ? Hagen. His name abides thy grudgeworthy birthright ; who helped us brothers to birth, Frau Grimhild' bade me behold it. Gunther. The grief is mine, and groundless thy grudge. Wield I birthright's boon, wisdom lay in thy lot ; half-brothers' strife never better was stifled ; and I call thy counsel fair, when I ask it after my fame. Hagen. Then foul it is found, if ill is thy fame ; and worthy goods I wot of by the Gibichung yet to be won. Gunther. To hide them brings thy head to the blame ! Dusk of the Gods. 281 Hagen. In guerdon of greenest summer Gibich's stem I see ; but Gunther stands unwed, and Gutrun's maidhood stays. Gunther. Whom fits it I should woo, to further Gibich's fame? Hagen. A wife waits thee, like none in the world ; — on rocks her home is high ; in fire is hidden her hall ; who breaks through the fencing fire to Briinnhild', he finds his bride. Gunther. And have I a heart for the deed ? Hagen. For a daringer doer it's held. Gunther. Who is the man with the might ? Hagen. Siegfried, the Wolsungs' son ; his is the help we want. Of bridal twins, the sister and brother, Siegmund and Sieglinde, best to his breed he was born ; in the wood he grew to his might ; for Gutrun's mate he was made. Gutrune. What deed did he so matchless, that the mightiest hero he's deemed ? Hagen. At Neid-hole was the Nibelungs' hoard once held by a weighty Worm ; T 282 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried muzzled his measureless mouth, and slew him with mastering sword. Such was the sweeping feat that helped to the hero's fame. GUNTHER. Of the Nibelungs' hoard I know ; is his the hold on it now ? Hagen. Who boundlessly wields its worth, he bends at a breath the world. GUNTHER. And Siegfried found it in fight ? Hagen. Now are the Niblungs his slaves. GUNTHER. And Briinnhild' he only can win ? Hagen. At another wanes not her blaze. GUNTHER [rising -angrily from his seaf). Thy gift is darkness and doubt ! The good I dare not gain — to long for it hardly lightens my heart ! Hagen. Let Siegfried bring her to be thy bride — were then Briinnhild' not thine ? Gunther {disturbed, walkitig up and down in the hall). What might is to send the man to seek for me so the maid ? Dusk of the Gods. 283 Hagen. Thy prayer would fail not to press him, if fixed him Gutrune first. GUTRUNE. Thou mocker, harmful Hagen ! What means are mine to hold him ? Lordliest is he of men alive, the world's winsomest women long will have lightened his want. Hagen. In the shrine is a water shut ; who won it, believe me well ! The hero, for whom thou long'st, leads it with love to thy hand. Let him but light this way, and drink of the draught that awaits him, that he'd seen a woman before, or sought the way to her side — were soon forgotten and gone. Now say how Hagen's counsel sounds ! GUNTHER (who has again approached the table and^ leaning on it, attentively listened). The meed is to Grimhild', who made such brother mine ! Gutrune. Siegfried well it were to see ! Gunther. Where waits he to be sought ? Hagen. Rides he for deeds unrestingly round, a fencing wood the world he will find ; the storm of his business will run him to Gibich's strand on the Rhine. T 2 284 Dusk of the Gods. GUNTHER. Welcome is his at my hand. {Siegfried's horn is heard in the distance. They listen,') From Rhinewards winds the horn. Hagen [Juts gone to the bank, looks down the river, and calls back). Horse and hero brings a boat ; his warning was it we heard. With the labourless help of a lazy hand, straight at the stream the boat he steers ; such masterly aim of the moving oar warns of the fist that befell the Worm ; Siegfried is it, — safely no other ! GUNTHER. Will he not wait ? Hagen {calling through his hollowed hands towards the river), Hoyho ! which way, thou hearty hero ? Siegfried's {voice, in the distance, from the river). To Gibich's hardy son. Hagen. He sends thee greeting ; behold his hall; this way ; lay to and land ! Hail, Siegfried ! Welcome here ! {Siegfried lays to. Gunther has joined Hagen at the bank, Gutrune perceives Siegfried from her seat, for some ti>ne in joyous surprise fastens her look on hi-m, and, as the 7nen then approach the hall, withdraws herself in vtanifest confusion, through a doorway on the left, into her chamber.) Siegfried {who has led his horse to the land, and now lea is quietly on him). Which is Gibich's son ? Dusk of the Gods. 285 GUNTHER. Gunther, I, whom thou seek'st. Siegfried, Afar thy fame has filled the Rhine ; now fight with me, or be my friend ! Gunther. Waive the war ; welcome hither ! Siegfried. Where house I my horse ? Hagen. His rest I heed. Siegfried. Thou named'st me Siegfried ; met we ere now ? Hagen. Thy strength was enough, — I knew thy stroke. Siegfried. Guard well for me Grane ; thou hast not held with bridle a horse of happier breed. {^Hagen leads away the horse to the right behind the hall^ and speedily returns. Gunther walks forward with Siegfried into tlie hall.) Gunther. My father's hall, O hero, with gladness freely greet ; whither thou walkest, what thou see'st, of all I sav thou art owner — 286 Dusk of the Gods. abode and birthright, field and folk ; bind what I swear, my body ! — myself I make thy man. Siegfried. Not field or folk I offer, no father's house and hall; left to me were my limbs alone ; life has fed on them fast. In a sword I wrought are all my riches — bind, my sword, what I swear ! — with myself I bring it the bond. Hagen {^standing behind ihetn). But the hoard of the Niblung fame unfolds that thou hast ? Siegfried. Wellnigh I forgot the gold ; so — nurse I the needless gain ! To lie I left it in a hollow, where a Worm its heap had watched. Hagen. And nothing is with thee here ? Siegfried {pointing to the steel net-work that hangs in his heli). Nought but this ; I know not its worth. Hagen. I tell the tarn-helm, the Nibelungs' sheltering toy; it helps thee when set on thy head, in the shape thou would'st have, to shown ; Dusk of the Gods. 287 or, lures thee the farthest spot, in a flash, lo it is found ! — And leftest thou all of the rest ? Siegfried. But a ring. Hagen. Thou wardest it well ? Siegfried. It hangs on a woman's hand. Hagen {to himself). Briinnhilde ! . . . GUNTHER. No bargain seek to bid me ; trash to thy treasure were set, sold I for it all I own ! For his thanks Siegfried I'll serve. {Hagen has gone to Gutrune's door^ and now opens it. Gutrune comes out ; she carries n Jilted drink-horn^ and approaches Siegfried with it.) Gutrune. Be welcome, guest, in Gibich's house ! From his daughter's hand is the drink. Siegfried (bends friendlily to her and takes the horn; he holds it thoughtfully before him^ and says softly). Were all forgotten that thou gav'st, one lesson haunts my heart for life ; — my earliest drink to endless love, with Briinnhild' alone shall be ! (He drinks and hands the horn lack to Gutrune, ■who, ashamed and confused, casts down her eyes from him.) 2 88 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried i^uith swiftly lighted passion Jlxing his eyes on her). When so with thy light my look thou hast seared, why sink'st thou before me thy face ? (Gutrune, blushing^ raises her eyes to him.) Siegfried. Ha, sweetest woman ! Sweep me not so ! The heart in my breast burns at thy beam ; my blood it has filled, whose billows furrow my body with fire ! — ( With trembling voice to Gunther.) Say me the name of thy sister ! Gunther. Gutrune. Siegfried. Are good the runes that in her eyes I unravel ? {He seizes Gutnme, withjlery impetuosity, by the hand,) When thy brother's man I meant to be, with pride he put me back ; would'st thou behave so haughtily, said I to thee the same ? {Gutrune humbly lowers her head and, expressing by a gesture that she feels herself not worthy of him, with unsteady step again leaves the hall. ) Siegfried {attentively observed by Hagen and Gunther, looks, as if spell-bound, after her; then, without turning round, ashs). Hast thou, Gunther, a wife ? Gunther. I never wooed, nor lightly will win me a woman's look ! On one my heart I have set, that no wit can help to my side. Busk of the Gods. 289 Siegfried iqvickly tvmitlg to kim). With me for thy means, what shalt thou miss ? GUNTHER. On rocks her home is high ; in fire is hidden her hall — Siegfried {with wonder, and as if to remind himself of something long forgotten, repeats softly). " On rocks her home is high ; " in fire is hidden her hall " . . ? GUNTHER. Who breaks through the fencing fire — Siegfried {hastily interrupting him, and quickly leaving off). " Who breaks through the fencing fire " . . ? GUNTHER. To Briinnhild', he finds his bride. {Siegfried expresses by a speechless gesture that, at the mention of Brflnn- hilde's name, all recollection entirely ceases.) GUNTHER. My feet will not lead to her lodging ; nor fades at my look her fire ! Siegfried {starting). Me — frights not her fire ; I'll woo for thee the maid ; for with might and mind am I thy man — a wife in Outrun' to win. Gunther. Gutrune then shall be thine. Siegfried. Briinnhild' to thee will I bring. 290 Dusk of the Gods. GUNTHER. But how wilt thou blind her ? Siegfried. By the tarn-helm's trick thy likeness lightly I take. GUNTHER. The bargain swear to a bond ! Siegfried. Blood-brotherhood breed with an oath ! {Ha^en fills a drink-horn "with fresh wine; Siegfried and Gunther wound their arms with their swords^ and hold the^nfor a jjioment ffver the drink-horn.) Siegfried and Gunther. Flowering life's freshening food far I drop in the drink ; brewed with heat of brotherly hearts, blazes the draught with our blood. Faith I drink to my friend ; fast and fully bloom from the bond blood-brotherhood here ! Breaks a brother the bond, fails in faith to his friend, what in drops to-day sweetly we drink, in floods be sent from his side, to right his friend of the wrong ! So — bid 1 the bond ; so — trust thee my truth ! (They drink, one ajter the other, each half; Hagen then, who during the oath has stood leaning aside, with his sword, smashes the horn. Siegfried and Gunther take each other's hands.') Siegfried i^o Hagefi). Why aidest thou not in the oath ? Dusk of the Gods. 291 Hagen. My blood were ill for the cup ! Not clean like yours and cloudless it comes ; stubborn and still in me it stands ; my cheek it runs not to redden. So, far I bide from fiery bonds. GUNTHER. Leave the man to his mood ! Siegfried. Fleetly afloat ! My boat shall dance with dipped brim to her dwelling ; at the brink abide a night in the boat, and the bride home thou shalt bring. GUNTHER. Wilt thou not rest awhile ? Siegfried. To be back again I burn. {fie goes to the bank.) GuNTHER. Thou, Hagen, shalt guard the hall ! {He follows Siegfried. Outrune appears at the door of her chaviher.) GUTRUNE. So fast, whither's their wayfare ? Hagen. Aboard, Briinnhild' to woo. GUTRUNE. Siegfried ? Hagen. See how he goes, for wife Gutrun' to gather ! (He seats himself ■with spear and shield in front of the hall. Siegfried and Guntherputoff.) 292 Dusk of the Gods. GUTRUNE. Siegfried — mine ! {She goes hack in great agitation to her chamber.) Hagen {after lengthened silence). So — heeded and safe hold I the hall, harbour the field from its foe ; — Gibich's son is gone with the wind ; a wife he's minded to woo. A sturdy hero bestirs his helm, who deeds for him is to dare ; he brings him his own bride to the Rhine ; but me brings he — the ring. — You buoyant brothers, boundless in sonship, sing to your boat as it sails ! Slight though you name him, you serve his need — the Nibelung's son. {A curtain is drainn together across the front of the scene and hides the stage. After the scene is changed, the curtain, which before closed in the foreground of the hall, is entirely ■withdrawn.') {The rocky height, as in the delude.) Brunnhilde {sits at the entrance of the cavern and contemplates in silent thought Siegfrieds ring ; overcome with joyous remembrance she is covering it with kisses — when she suddenly hears a distant noise; she listens, and looks towards the side into the background). Long unwonted delight whispers its way to-wards me ; a horse I hear with heels on the wind ; in the cloud he comes with storm to the cliff! — Who stirs my loneness at last? Dusk of the Gods. 293 Waltraute's {voice front the distance). Briinnhilde ! Sister ! Sleep'st thou or wak'st thou ! Brunnhilde {starts upfront her seat) . Waltraute's cry ! With welcome it comes ! — Rid'st thou, sister, rashly so to my rock ? {Calling into the scene,) In the wood — where was thy wont — light from thy horse and lead the runner to rest ! — Hie'st thou to me? Hast thou the heart ? Giv'st thou to Briinnhild' greeting dreadless of grief? {IValtraiite has hastily entered from the wood; Briinnhilde has hunied impetuously towards her ; in her joy she does not notice the anxious shy- ness of Waltraute,) Waltraute. Only to her is it I hasten. Brunnhilde {in extretne joyous agitation). So seems it for Briinnhilde's sake Walfather's bidding thou breakest ! Or what else ? O say ! Were Wotan's will softened to-wards my side ? — When against his godhood Siegmund I guarded, well had my fault— I felt— but fought for his will ; Dusk of the Gods. that his fierceness was ended fully he owned, when he folded me so in sleep, fettered me here on the height, fixed me for maid to the man who should find me and wake by the way, — to my bitter prayer yet bated his bent, with ravening fire feathered it round, that cowards might keep from my rock. Safe for happiness held me my sorrow ; the wonder of heroes won me for wife, and in his love my lot is a laugh and a light. — Lured thee, sister, my luck? To feed and freshen on what has befallen me — halve my heaven — hast thou flown ? Waltraute. Mix in the madness, whose fit makes thee a fool ? Not such was the hope that could drive me in dread from Wotan's behest. Brunnhilde. Daunts thee the fear that dreadly he follows ? Is his heart so hard on me still ? Thou heelest from stroke of his storm ? Waltraute. Fear of our father were a cure fit for my care ! Brunnhilde. Wonder I get from thy words ! Dusk of the Gods. 295 Waltraute, Gather thy senses ; hark, and heed what I say ! Again to Walhall warns me the woe, that from Walhall hunted me here. Brunnhilde {terrifttd). Is harm with the gods in their heaven ? Waltraute. Take to thy soul what I tell thee ! — Since from thy face he was severed, to fight no more furthered us Wotan ; lost and lotless wistfully led we to war. Walhall's mustering heroes missed Walfather ; hard on his horse, without rest or roof, unfoUowed he went in the world. Home lately he fared ; in his fist fast were set his spear-shaft's splinters ; a hero had hewn it asunder. With wordless hand Walhall's host he wafted to-wards the world-ash with their axes ; he warned them to stack the wood of the stem till its towering heap girded the hall of the gods. The gods at call came to his counsel ; his holy seat held him on high ; room beside him rested for them in the sorrow ; 296 Dusk of the Gods. in ring and row the hall was filled with the heroes. So — sits he, and breathes not a sound, on stately stool uncheered and still, the splintered weapon fixed in his span ; Holda's firuit no further he heeds ; dread on the gods like death begets its darkness. — On their feathers roused he forth his ravens ; homewards again with happy news when they hie, at length unsmothered his latest smile grows on the lips of the god. — A.t his knees bewildered Walkyries waited ; faint feels he the prayer in our faces, and all of us ails might of a measureless ill. The tears I shed showered his shoulder ; he faltered in face, — and his thought on Briinnhilde fell. Soon he endlessly sighed, sealed his eyelids, and, while he dreamed, he whispered in words — " The day the River's daughters find from her finger the ring, will the curse's weight be cast from god and world ! " — His thought I read, and through the ranges of wordless warmen slipped from his side ; Dusk of the Gods. 297 with stealth to my horse I hastily strode, and rode in storm to thy rock. Now, O sister, forsake me not ; meet are thy means, withhold not the mood 1 Finish the grief of the gods ! Brunnhilde. What tales of dreary meaning tell'st thou to me like a dream ? With gods in heavenly mist behind me long my wisdom has lain ; I take no sense from thy tidings. Wild and waste seem they of sound, while in thy look the wan and wistful fire wakens and fades ; with fitful cheek, thou cheerless sister, what seek'st thou wildly to say ? Waltraute (z« uneasy haste). Here — on thy hand — the ring — be ruled ! hark to my hope ! For Wotan hurl it away 1 Brunnhilde. The ring — from me ? Waltraute. The Rhine-daughters' make it once more ! Brunnhilde. The Rhine- daughters' — I — the ring ? Siegfried's seal of love ? — Leave thee thy senses ? U 298 Dusk of the Gods. Waltraute. Listen I See me beseech ! The world's woe it grasps in width of its gold ; — fling it from thee — far in the water ! Save its sorrow from Walhall ! Let it cast its curse in the waves ! Brunnhilde. Ha ! knew'st thou now of its worth ! Its meaning missed thee, feelingless maid !— More than Walhall's welfare, more than the good of the gods, the ring I guard ; a look of its laughing gold, a flash of its girding fire, gives the greatness of all the gods in endless luck of their lot ! In leap of its blaze burns to me Siegfried's love ; Siegfried's love — that words are not ready to witness — such saves me the ring. — Begone to the holy hall of the gods, and read them a whispered word of my ring ; — from love I go not with life, no gods shall set us asunder ; sooner shall Walhall's walls be dust for the wind ! Waltraute. Such is thy trueness ? So, in trial, I learn the love of a sister ? Dusk of the Gods. 299 Brunnhilde. Hence on thy horse reinlessly home ! The ring thou win'st not away ! Waltraute. Sorrow ! Sorrow ! Woe, my sister ! Gods of Walhall, woe ! {,Ske dashes aivay^ and is heard siviftly^ as on horseback, storming forth from the "wood.) Brunnhilde {looks after a hurrying, strongly -lighted storm-cloud, luhich is soon com- pletely lost in the distance'). Away in the wind thy blazing blackness streams with its storm ; to me no more will it steer ! — (.Evening has gathered; out of the depth the glow of the fire rises more strongly.') Evening hastes to hide the heaven ; faster flushes my harbouring fire on high.^ — Why rears so redly the beaconing billow its wrath ? My farthest haunt is filled with the hurry of flame. — {The cry of Siegfried^ s horn is heard nearing out of the depth. Brunnhilde listens, and then starts with joy.) Siegfried ! . . . Siegfried again ? How my soul gathers the sound ! . . . ■ Up — early to greet him ! Into my god's own arm ! {She dashes, in the highest transport, towards the background. Flames leap up over the edge of the rock ; out of them springs Siegfried up on to a high juttijig piece of rock, whereupon the flames sink back, and again only glmu up from the depth of the background.') U 2 30O Dusk of the Gods. {Siegfried, with the tarn-heltn on his head hiding: half of his /ace and leaving only his eyes free, appears in the guise of Gunther.') Brunnhilde {retreating in terror). Who now ? Is treachery near ? {She flies into the foreground, and thence, in speechless wonder, fast ens her eyes on Siegfried.') Siegfried {remaining in the background on the piece of rock afid leaning on his shield watches her for a long time ; then speaks to her with a disguised voice deeper than his own). Briinnhild' ! A wooer came, that thy fire could not foil. My wife I have fairly won, so mildly follow me ! Brunnhilde {violently tremiling). Who is the man with heart undaunted in the highest hero's deed ? Siegfried {stili on the rock in the background)* The master Briinnhild' needs, if binds her nought but might. Brunnhilde {seized with dread). A horror hovered and struck my home ; — the flight of an eagle aimed at my flesh ! — Who is it harrows me ? {Siegfried is silent.) Man art thou merely ? Near'st thou with Hella's night on thy name ? Dusk of the Gods. ^oi Siegfried {after a further silence^ A Gibichung am I, — and Gunther is here the man, who makes thee, woman, his. Brunnhilde (breaking; out into despair). Wotan, thou fierce unfatherly god ! Woe ! Now I meet what thy vengeance meant ; to shame and darkness thou shoutest me down ! Siegfried {leaps down/rom the rock and comes nearer). The night is near ; and rest in thy room halves by his right thy husband. Brunnhilde {stretching 7tp threateningly the finger on which she wears Siegfried's ritig). Withhold ! Turn from this token ! Thy hand shall show me no wrong, while shelters me the ring. Siegfried. Husband's-right it gives to Gunther ; with the ring wilt thou be wed ! Brunnhilde. Back, robber ! Bridleless thief ! And threaten me not to near ! Stronger than steel makes me the ring ; who — rends it from me ? 302 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. Unburden thee of it bids me thy boast. i^He presses up to her; they struggle. Brilnnhilde tears herself loose and Jiies. Siegfried pursues her. They struggle again ; he seizes her, and drags the ring from her finger. She screavis aloud, and, as if shattered, sinks down on tlie bank of stone in front of the cavern.) Siegfried. I've made thee mine ! Briianhilde, Gunther's bride — bring me the way of thy bed ! Brunnhilde {half fainting). O wisdomless woman, what could'st thou ward ? {Siegfried, with a commanding movement, drives herjorward; trembling and with unsteady steps, she goes into the cavern. ) Siegfried {drawing his sword, — in his own voice). Now, Nothung, witness well that faithfully I wooed ; lest I wane in truth to my brother, bar me away from his bride ! {He follows Brunnhilde.) {The curtain falls.) Dusk of the Gods. 303 SECOND ACT. A space ai the river-side. (In front of the Gibichangs' Hall; on the right the open entrance to the hall; on the left the river-hank ; from this rises, diagonally across tile stage towards the right in the direction of the background, a rocky slope divided by nutnerous mountain-paths ; there is seen an altar-stone toFricka isiith whichcorrespond, higher up, a larger one to Wotan, and, towards the side, a similar one to Banner. It is night.) (Hagen, 'with his arm round his spear and his shield at his side, sits asleep against the hall. The moon suddenly throws a sharp light upon him and his immediate neigb&urhcod ; Alberich is seen in front of Hagen,upon whose knees he leans his arms. ) Alberich. Sleep'st thou, Hagen, my son ? — ■ Thou sleep'st, and hear'st me not, whom dreams and sleep undid ? Hagen (softly and without moving, so that he appears still to sleep, although his eyes are fixed imde open), I hark to thee, harmful Niblung ; what seek'st thou now to tell my slumber? Alberich. Forget not the might thou hast means to gather, bear'st thou the mettle thou had'st from thy mother by birth. Hagen. Though came my mettle from her, my thanks hardly she kindled, when caught her Alberich's craft ; wan and early old, I' hate what's happy, mix not in mirth ! Alberich. Hagen, my son. hate what is happy 304 Dusk of the Gods. Whom luck slighted and sorrow settled on, fitly thou lov'st me so ! Keep thy keenness, feed thy craft ; the foes we war at with weapons of night — our hatred is hard upon now. Who reft me once from my ring, Wotan, the unwavering robber, has met in his own offspring his master; by the means of the Wolsung he wanes from his might, and with all the gods together in awe he waits for his end. Him no more I fear ; fall he must with his fellows ! — Sleep'st thou, Hagen, my son ? Hagen. Whose lot is to light on what he has lost ? Alberich. Mine — and thine the world shall be made, find I no fault amidst thy faith, feel'st thou my wrath and wrong. — Wotan's spear the Wolsung has withered, who won the fight with Fafner, the Worm, and chanced like a child on the ring; might he has reached not to be measured ; Walhall and Nibelheim wait for his nod ; Dicsk of the Gods. 305 at his fearlessness cowers and falters my curse ; for the ring's worth not a whit he reads, in work wields not its mastering weight ; buoyant delight of his life burns him away like a brand. Him to undo is the deed that will help us . . . hear'st thou, Hagen, my son ? Hagen. His ruin to seek already he runs. Alberich. The golden hoop, the ring, have we to gather ! A watchful woman lives to ward him with love ; drew, at her word, the River's daughters — who in drenching deeps once did me the wrong ! — again the ring from his hold, my gold were hopelessly gone, and no guile could bring it me back. So without rest seek for the ring ! A son I begot and gave myself, from grief at heroes' hands to be guarded. Though wide of the strength to strive with the Worm, — who was left for the Wolsung alone — to flawless hatred Hagen I fostered ; 3o6 Dusk of the Gods. who now is to right me, the ring to bring me, though Wolsung or Wotan forbid. Swear it me, Hagen, my son ! Hagen. The ring I will have ; harm not thy rest ! Alberich. Swear it me, Hagen, my son ! Hagen. To myself I swear ; swerve from thy sorrow ! i^A gradually darker and darker shadow again covers Hagen and Alberich I from the direction of the Rhine the day is dawning.) Alberich {as he gradually disappears from sights his voice also becomes fainter and fainter). Be true, Hagen, my son ! Trusty hero, be true ! Be true ! — True ! {Alberich has completely disappeared. Hagen, who has not stirredfrom his position, looks without moving and with vacant eyes towards the Rhine.) {The sun rises, and is reflected in the river ^ {Siegfried suddenly cotnes forward from behind a thicket close to the hanJi. He is in his own figure, but has the tarn-helm still on his head ; he takes it off, and hangs it in his belt.) Siegfried. Hoyho ! Hagen ! Weary man ! Wake, — I am with thee ! Hagen {slowly raising himself). Hi! Siegfried! Thou hasty hero ! Whence stormest thou here ? Dusk of the Gods. 307 Siegfried. From Briinnhilde's stone ; there was it I drew the breath, with which I bade thee wake ; so fast I found my way ! Slowlier follows a pair, with press of friendly sail. Hagen. So brings he Briinnhild' ? Siegfried. Wakes Gutrune? Hagen. Hoyho ! Gutrune ! Hither ! Haste ! Siegfried is here : why hold the house ? Siegfried {turning; towards the hall). To both I'll break the way I Briinnhild' won. {Gutrune comes towards them across t1i£ hall.) Siegfried. Give me thy greeting, Gibich's-child 1 To cheer thee, news of good I know. Gutrune. Freia welcome thee, to fame of every woman ! Siegfried. Sweet now show thyself and dreadless ; for wife I have won thee to-day. Gutrune. So leads my brother with him Briinnhild' ? 3o8 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. Light was the woman to woo. GUTRUNE. Found he no harm from her fire ? Siegfried. Him it would hardly have stung, had I not gone in his stead, — to earn in Outrun' guerdon. GUTRUNE. And no wound hast thou won ? Siegfried. I laughed as it washed on my limbs. GUTRUNE. Held Briinnhild' thee for my brother ? Siegfried. He was I to a hair ; the tarn-helm helped the deed, as Hagen happily deemed. Hagen. I gave thee word of weight. GuTRUNE. Thou mastered'st the fiery woman ? Siegfried. She failed at Gunther's might. Gutrune. And she made herself thy mate ? Siegfried. To her husband hearkened Briinnhild' like a bride from darkness to dawn. Gutrune. And her husband here I see ? Dusk of the Gods. 309 Siegfried. Where Outrun' abode was Siegfried. GUTRUNE. But with Briinnhild' safe beside him ? Siegfried {poiniins to his svjord). Between east and west is north ; so near — was Briinnhild' afar. GUTRUNE. How befell it that Gunther she got ? Siegfried. Through the lessening flow of the fire, in morning mist, she let me lead to the vale below ; when near the strand we stood, like lightning, Gunther straight to her leapt ; and I by the tarn-helm's wonder wished myself fast this way. A whistling wind now runs our lovers along the Rhine ; so set their welcome at work ! Gutrune. Siegfried, mastering man ! I fear thee for thy might ! Hagen {looking down tke river from the height in the background). With a sail the river is brightened. Siegfried. And thanks its boder begs ! Gutrune. True shall her greeting taste, that gladly as guest she may tarry ! The men— let Hagen hail to be merry with wedding in Gibich's walls ! 3 to Dusk of the Gods. Laughing women I lead to the feast ; my joy they'll unflinchingly join. ( To Siegfried^ as she goes toviards the hall ) Restest thou, harmful hero ? Siegfried. Rest it were to help thy work. {HefolloTus Jier. Both go into the hall^ Hagen {stctnding on the heighty blows with all his might a great ox-horn, towards the land side). Hoyho I Hoyho ! Hoyho ! You men of Gibich, gather to me ! Woe! Woe! Weapons this way ! Weapons ! Weapons ! Guarding weapons ! Whetted weapons, strong for war I Need ! Need is now ! Need! Woe I Woe! Hoyho ! Hoyho ! Hoyho ! (^He blows again. Fromdifferentguartersof the country trumpets atiswer him. Front the heights and out of the valleys armed men rush hastily in.) The Men {at first singly., then continually more together). Why howls the horn ? Why wakes it to war ? It brings us with blades, it brings us with weapons ; with biting weapons, with wounding blades ! Hoyho ! Hoyho I Hagen ! Hagen ! Fast the need unfold ! Name the foe that nears ! Who stirs the strife ? Is Gunther in strait ? Dusk of the Gods. 31 1 Hagen {downjrom the height). Hither with haste and endless help ! Greeting is there to give ; a wife Gunther has wooed. The Men. Wants he a friend ? Follow him foes ? Hagen. A harassing wife helps he home. The Men. He comes with her kindred's shout at his shoulders ? Hagen. Fairly fares he, frets him none. The Men. He had strength for the need, withstood the strife ? Hagen. The Worm-killer warded him well ; Siegfried, the hero, held him safe. The Men. What help will he want of our weapons ? Hagen. Sturdy steers he'll see you slaughter ; let Wotan's stone be strewn from their wounds. 312 Dusk of the Gods. The Men. Then, Hagen, what work for our hands ? Hagen. Upon Froh's a bristling boar shall be felled, and a goat to death gashed upon Donner's ; sheep shall bleed, in showers for Fricka, that friend she be to the bridal ! The Men {^vith continually increasing cheerfulness). Slackens the business, when beasts have been slain ? Hagen. In women's clasp will wait the cup, with mead and wine mirthfully mixed. The Men. When horn is in hand, what has to be done? Hagen. Drink till the sweetness has drowned your sense ; all to the gods and their glory, that good they may be to the bridal ! The Men ifireaking out into ringing; laug;hter). Long luck and health meets now the Rhine, if the harmful Hagen is merry of mind ! The Hawthorn pricks and sticks no more ; he hails us here to weddings instead. Dusk of the Gods. 333 Hagen {who has all the time continued very serious). Now leave your laughter, men of mettle, and greet Gunther's bride ; Briinnhilde yonder he brings. {He has come davmjram the height and mixed among the men.) Hold to your mistress, help her in harm ; frets her a wrong, right it like fire ! (Gunther and Briinnhilde have arrived in the boat. Sotne of the lucn leap into the river and drag the boat to the land. While Gunther accom- panies Briinnhilde to the bankj the jiien, -with shouts^ strike on their weapons. Hagen stands aside in the background.) The Men. Hail! Hail! Welcome ! Welcome ! Hail to Gunther ! Hail to his bride ! Gunther {helping Briinnhilde by tlie hand out of the boai). Briinnhild', your matchless mistress, home to the Rhine 1 bring ; a lordlier woman never was won ! Let Gibich's stately stem, girded with strength from the gods, to highest fame fling up its head ! The Men {striking on their weapons). Hail ! Hail to Gunther ! Happiest Gibichung ! {Briinnhilde, pale, andwithher eyes fixed on the ground, follows Gunther, who leads her towards the hall, out of which now come Siegfried and Gutrune, accompanied by women.) X 314 Dusk of the Gods. GUNTHER {stopping with Brunnhilde in front of the hall). Be greeted, hero, here 1 My sweet sister, be greeted ! How meet thou seem'st beside the man who has won thee for wife. Two couples here blaze with blush of one blessing ; Briinnhilde — and Gunther, Gutrune — and Siegfried ! {Briinnhilde starts with fear, raises her eyes and sees Siegfried; she lets go of Gunther s hand, strides with impetuous movemetit a step towards Siegfried,falls back in horror and gazes with fixed eyes at him. All are at a loss.) Men and Women. What bodes it ? Siegfried (goes calmly a few steps towards Briinnhilde). What lames Briinnhilde's look ? Brunnhilde {scarcely able to control herself) . Siegfried . . . here! . . . Gutrune? Siegfried. Gunther's winsome sister, she that I wed as Gunther thee. Brunnhilde. I . . . Gunther ? . . . thou liest ! — Why leaves me the light ? . . . {She seems about to fall; Siegfried, being nearest^ supports her.) Brunnhilde {faintly and softly in Siegfrieds arms). Siegfried . . . knows me not ? . . . Siegfried. Gunther, thy wife at something sickens ! {Gunther approaches.) Dusk of the Gods. 3 1 5 Awaken, woman ! Here is thy husband. While Siegfried points at Gunther ivitk hisjinger, Briinn/iiliic recognizes upon it the ring.) Brunnhilde (zy/M fearful impetuosity^ starting up in terror). Ha ! — the ring ... his hand — behold ! He . . . Siegfried ? Men and Women. How— so ? Hagen (.from the background stepping in among tlie men). Hearken well to the woman's words ! Brunnhilde {Recovering Itcrself, while she forcibly suppresses the most terrible agitation). On thy hand here I beheld a ring ; — by wrong thou hast it ; who stole it from me, here stands the man ! {.Pointing at Gunther.) How had'st thou the ring he wrung from my hold ? Siegfried {attentively regarding the ring on his hand). The ring from him I never had. Brunnhilde {to Gunther). Reft'st thou from me the ring with which thou mad'st me wife, be roused and plead thy right — gather thy pledge again ! 3i6 Dusk of the Gods. GUNTHER (/« great confusion). The ring ? — No such I gave him ; — why guess thou see'st the same ? Brunnhilde. Why fails thee here the ring thy hand so fiercely wrested ? (Gunther, cofiipletely at a loss, rejizccins silent.') Brunnhilde {breaking into passion). Ha ! — He then it was, who tore my ring away, — Siegfried, the treacherous rogue ! Siegfried i^ho during the c07ite7nplation of the ring has been carried far away by his thoughts'). No woman's help won me the hoop ; from woman's guard I grasped it not away ; from mind I miss not the battle's meed, that once at Neid-hole I met, when I weighed my might with the Worm's. Hagen {.stepping between them). Briinnhild', fearless woman ! Find'st thou in faith thy ring ? To Gunther gav'st thou the same, him it beseems, — and Siegfried has got it by guile, for whose work he must suffer well ! Brunnhilde {crying aloud in terrible distress) . By guile ! By guile ! Guile of shoreless shame ! By wrong ! By wrong — beyond vengeance's reach ! Dusk of the Gods. 317 GUTRUlSfE. By guile ? Men and Women. Who gets the wrong ? Brunnhilde. Gods of my heaven ! Holy beholders ! Was it your counsel's whispered word ? Named you this sorrow, unsuffered till now ? Shaped you this shame, no shelter can shade ? — • Find me a vengeance unvaunted before ! Rouse me to rage never wreaked on a wrong ! Briinnhild' bid till her heart she has broken, and home she has harrowed his for its harm ! Gunther. Briinnhild', be bridled ! Hear me, bride ! Brunnhilde. Away, betrayed and tricked betrayer ! Hark to me, all ; not — him, — the hero here was it I wed. Men and Women. Siegfried ? Gutrune's lord ? Brunnhilde. He forced delight from me, and love. 3i8 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. Fencest thou so thy fame from sickness ? The lips, that falsely foul it, fits it I teach how they lie ? Hark, if my truth I harmed ! Blood-brotherhood's oath I bandied with Gunther 1 Nothung, my shameless sword, sheltered the truth I swore ; his sharpness meetly sundered this woeful woman and me. Brunnhilde. Behold how thy lips heartily lie, and witlessly seek for witness thy sword ! He showed me his sharpness, but likewise his sheath, in which so sweetly swung on the wall Nothung, the watchful friend, when his master had wooed till he won. The Men {running together in hasty anger"). Faith has he forgotten ? Fouls he the name of Gunther ? Gunther. My fame is shaken, shame is my share, turn'st thou not back the tale in her teeth ! GUTRUNE. False is Siegfried found to his friend ? Betoken that blame blindly she brings ! Dusk of the Gods. 319 The Men. Wrong thee her words, wipe them away ; shame back her summons, swear us the oath ! Siegfried. Shame I her summons, swear I the oath, which of you wagers his spear in the work ? Hagen. With my weapon's spike I wait for thy speech ; that whole the oath may be held. {The titen forvt a ring round Siegfried ; Hagen stretches out to him the point of his spear ; Siegfried lays -upon it two fingers of his right hand.) Siegfried. Wakeful spear ! Hallowing weapon ! Help my unwithering words ! — By thy spiring spike my oath shall be sped ; spear, behold what I speak ! — Where a blade can bleed me, bite for my blood ; where a death can stab me, strike me dead ; wrought I what rights her blame, failed I my brother in faith ! Brunnhilde (strides with rage into the ring, tears SiegfriecCs handjrom the spear and seizes the point with her own). Wakeful spear ! Hallowing weapon ! Help my unwithering words ! — By thy spiring spike my oath shall be sped ; spear, behold what I speak ! — 320 Dusk of the Gods. On thy weight a welfare, so it shall wound him ; on thy blade a blessing, so it shall bleed him ; for broken are all his oaths, — his last he breathes on a lie ! The Men {in violent tumuli). Help, Donner ! Down with thy thunder, to deaden the shout of this shame ! Siegfried. Gunther, look to thy wife, who foully lies to thy fame ! — Rest she wants and room, the wayward mountain woman, till the maddening storm is stilled, that some hand of hell's unholy spite opened for sport on us all ! — ■ Be scattered, men, and away ! Leave the women to scold ! To count as cowards is well, kindles the warfare with words. {Going close to Gunther^ Own, it irks me the worst- that ill the sleight I worked ; the helm, it seems almost, but half withheld my mien. But women's grudge soon is outgrown ; the trick, that won thy wife, in time she'll think of with thanks. {He turns again to the men.) Fit me your faces, men, for the feast ! — Light the wedding, women, with looks ! — Dusk of the Gods. 321 Loud with your laugh make the delight ; in hall and field fairly I'll hold the front of jest and of joy ! Let the lucky man, whose faith on love is fastened, follow the mirth of my mood ! {IVitk unrestrained joyoitsness he throws his arm rou-nd Guirune, and draws her with him into the hall ; the men and womenfoUow him. ) {Briinnhilde, Gunther and Hagen remain behind. Ganther, covering his Jace, in deep shame and terrible dejection^ has seated hintself aside,) Brunnhilde {standing in the foreground and looking vacantly before her). Was the hand of hell hidden behind it ? What's the spell whose spite spurred it this way ? Why leaves me my wisdom lone and bewildered ? Why falter my runes to fathom the riddle ? Ah, sorrow ! Sorrow ! Woe ! Ah, woe ! All my wisdom to him I weaned ; his maid he holds hard in his might ; he binds his fetters fast on the booty, that, wild with cry of her curse, he greedily gives from his wealth ! — Who brings to me here a sword to sever the hampering bonds ? Hagen (going close up to her). Let Hagen know the whole of thy hurt ! For the wrong thou hast got guerdon he wreaks. 32 2 Dusk of the Gods. Brunnhilde. On whom? Hagen. On Siegfried, whose is the sin. Brunnhilde. On Siegfried? . . . Thou? {She laughs bitterly^ At sight alone of his gathering eyelight — that even the garb of his guile blinded ill of its blaze — would thy meetest mood find itself mastered ! Hagen. His vow will speed my spear in its vengeance ! Brunnhilde. Vow and vengeance help it in vain ! A weightier way must thy spear be wielded, seeks it with Siegfried to war ! Hagen. I know the might and means of the man, and deem not in fight to undo him ; so whisper me fast of wary ways, how he may wince at my hand. Brunnhilde. O heartless meed that I meet ! Nought that I knew left I unnamed, when I blessing breathed on his limbs. Heedlessly spent I on him my spells, that harbour him now from thy spear. Dusk of the Gods. 323 Hagen. So wounds him nowhere a weapon ? Brunnhilde. In battle none ; — but still — bare to a stroke is his back. Never — I felt — in flight he would find a foe to be harmful behind him ; so spared I his back from the blessing. Hagen. For the bite of ray spear ! {He turns swiftly round to Gunther.') Wake, Gunther, — • worthy Gibichung ! Behold thy helpful wife ; why waste thy heart in woe ? Gunther {breaking out passionately). O shame ! O sorrow ! Woe to me, the wretchedest of men ! Hagen. In shame thou sittest — such I see ! Brunnhilde. Unmanful comrade ! Cowardly man ! Meetly behind the hero thou hidd'st, that harvest of fame from his hand might befall thee ! Far, in truth, the towering tree had fall'n ere thou wert its fruit ! 324 Dusk of the Gods. GUNTHER ipeside himself). Beguiled to be — and beguiler ! Betrayed to be— and betrayer ! It burns in my bone, it heaves in my heart ! Help, Hagen, bring to my fame ! Bring to thy mother's, for me even — she bore ! Hagen. Not head nor hand can deal in thy help ; thy help is — Siegfried's death ! GUNTHER. Siegfried's death ! Hagen. Alone slays it thy shame. GUNTHER {^seized with horror^ staring before hint). Blood-brotherhood swore we not both ? Hagen. The broken bond heal with his blood ! GUNTHER. Broke he the bond ? Hagen. When he mocked thy trust. GUNTHER. Betrayed he me .^ Brunnhilde. Thee betrayed he, and my betrayal you met in ! Dusk of the Gods. 325 Wrung I my right, all the blood that runs would drown not the blame of your deed ? But by death of one shall others be debtless ; Siegfried's end shall settle his own and all ! Hagen (going near to Gunther). His fall shall breed thy blessing ! ^Vithout measure might thou wilt find, when lies in thy hand the ring, that for death alone he will loose. Gunther. Briinnhilde's ring ? Hagen. That the Nibelung wrought. Gunther {^sighing deeply). Such were the end of Siegfried ! Hagen. His death shall save us all. Gunther. But Gutrune, ah ! to whom I gave him ; harm we her husband in this, to her sight how seem we then ? Brunnhilde {breaking wildly out). What reads me my wisdom ? What whisper my runes ? Through shelterless sorrow shines it Mke sun ; — Gutrun', behold, is the wonder, that witched my husband away ! Harm harrow her ! 326 Dusk of the Gods. Hagen {fo Gunther). Deem'st thou it greatly will grieve her, the deed from her can be hid. For merry hunt he meets us to-morrow ; his haste shall leave us behind — a boar can bring him his hurt. Gunther and Brunnhilde. Such be the deed ! Death to Siegfried ! Harm that he sent, so — let him heal ! From sworn truth he swerved to betrayal ; now shall his blood blot out the blame ! Allrauner ! Wreaker for wrong ! Oath-viewer and aid of vows ! Wotan ! Wotan ! Waken this way ! Hail to thy holy harrowing host, hither to hearken and hear us swear ! Hagen. Such be the deed ! Death to Siegfried ! Soon shall he set, who seems like the sun ! Mine is the hoard, in might I will have it ; so wrung from him must be the ring ! — Niblung-father, who fell'st from thy fame ! Dusk of the Gods, 327 Night-leader ! Nibelungs'-lord ! Alberich ! Alberich ! Open thine ear ! Hail yet again to the Nibelungs' host, rightly to hallow thy ruling ring ! [As Guntker andBrunnhilde turn impetuously towards the hall, they are met by ike issuing bridal procession. Boys and girls, waving staves hung withflowers, leap joy ottsly in front. Siegfried, on a shield, andGutrune, on a seat, are carried by the fnen. A t the same time men andwomen servants^ on the various paths of the rocky background^ drive slaughtering imple- ments and beasts for sacrifice^ an ox, a rain and agoat, towards the altar- stones 'which the "women dress with flowers. Siegfried and the men blow with their horns the wedding-calL The women invite Briinnhilde to accom- pany them at Gutrufie's side. Briinnhilde stares vacantly up at Gutrune, who nods friendlily to ker. As Briinnhilde is about to retreat impetuously, Hagen steps quickly in and presses her towards Guntker, who again seizes her hand and leads her to the women, whereupon he allows himself to be lifted by the men. While the procession, scarcely interrupted^ again quickly sets itself in motion towards the height, the curtain falls.) 328 Dusk of the Gods. THIRD ACT. A wild valley of wood n.nd rock {by the Rktue, which Jiffivs past a steep slope in the background) . The Three Rhine-daughters (^Woglinde^ WeUgunde^ and Flosshilde rise out of the water, and, during the following song, swim about in a circle). The sun has ht the land with laughter ; night lies in the water ; it seemed not so when, holy and safe, our father's gold was its gladness ! Rhinegold, guiding gold ! How far felt we thy stream, star that decked our darkness ! — O send us hither, sun, the hero from wlTose hand our gold we may gather ! Brings he it back, thy blazing eye grudge we at last no longer. Rhinegold, laughing gold ! How glad should we deem thy glance, dancing star of our darkness ! {Siegfrieds horn is heard from the height) WOGLINDE. His horn I can hear ! Wellgunde. The hero comes. Dusk of the Gods. 329 Flosshilde. Hasten to counsel ! {They dive quickly below the 'water. Siegfrled^fully armed, appears on the slope.) Siegfried. Some elf has led me ill ; at last the track I have lost. Hi, rogue ! What harbour took so greedily hence the game ? The Three Rhine-daughters {co}7iingttp again). Siegfried ! Flosshilde. What here has hurt thee so ? Wellgunde. Who's the rogue that set thee wrong ? WOGLINDE. Was there a Nodder at work ? All Three. ' Say it, Siegfried ; let us know ! Siegfried (smiling and watching them). Away by you was witched the shaggy hide I hunted — and sheltered here ? So meet a mate it were hard from such merry maidens to hold. (The maidens laugh alottd.) Woglinde. Siegfried, say what thou'lt give, if back the game we bring thee ? 330 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. Yet bide I bootyless ; so seek what seems to you best. Wellgunde. A golden ring girdles thy finger. — The Three Maidens {together). That give us ! Siegfried. With a whelming Worm I wrestled for it once ; shall I barter it now to buy the paws of a paltry bear ? WOGLINDE. Such is thy greed ? Wellgunde. So seek'st thou for gain ? Flosshilde. Free givers fits it women should find. Siegfried. To spend in such sport my goods would help me to grief at home. Flosshilde. Is thy wife so hard ? Wellgunde. So fierce of hand? Woglinde. He already feels its fall. ( They laugh.") Dusk of the Gods. 331 Siegfried. Now laugh and make your mirth ! Not long I mean it to last ; the hoop your hearts so need, you Nodders never shall have. Flosshilde. So sweet ! Wellgunde. So strong ! WOGLINDE. So worth a wish ! The Three {togetker). How sad his greed should seem so great ! {They laugh and dive below.) Siegfried (foming further down the slope). What makes me bear their truthless blame, and take their slander so ? — Rise they again to the river's rim, the ring they want shall await them. — Here, here, you wayward water-women, in haste ! the ring you shall have. The Three Rhine-daughters {come up again^ and shovt themselves earnest and solemn). Withhold it, hero, and ward it well, until thou hast read the hurt thou harbour'st in the ring. Glad feel if we come to free thee then of its curse. Y 2 332 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried iijuieily putting the ring again on his jfinger). Now sing what you foresee ! The Rhine-daughters {separately and together^ Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Siegfried ! Harm for thee we behold. To raise thee sorrow sav'st thou the ring ! From the Rhine was gathered unwrought its gold ; he, who guilefully shaped it and lost it with shame, called on it a dark undying curse, that hastens to death him whom it decks. As the Worm thou slewest, wilt thou be slain, and here to-day — be deep in thy heed — wilt thou not sell us the ring, for the Rhine to sink in its water. The flood alone its curse can allay. Siegfried. You crafty women, waste not words ! Caught me little your kindness, of your threats still less I am thoughtful. The Rhine-daughters. Siegfried ! Siegfried ! No falsehood we say ; fly the curse that was kindled ! At night by working Norns it was woven in the endless coil of counsel of old. Dusk of the Gods. 333 Siegfried. My sword once splintered a spear ; — the endless coil of counsel of old, wove they with wasting curses its web, Norns shall not cover from Nothung ! Once warned me beware of the curse a Worm ; but he failed to wake me to fear, — the world's riches I won with a ring, that for love's delight swiftly I'd leave ; I'll yield it for sweetness to you ; but for safety of limbs and of life, — were not its worth of a finger's weight, — no ring from me you will reach ! For limbs and their life — left without love to be fast bound by fear with its fetters — limbs and their Ufe — look ! — so forth from me far I send ! {He lias picked up a clod of earth frovi the ground^ and, with, tfie last wordsj has thrown it ffver his head behind him.) The Rhine-daughters. Fly, sisters ! Fast from his folly ! As strong and wise himself he weens, as he burdened and blinded is seen. Oaths he swore — and he answers them not ; runes he knows — and he reads them not ; 334 Dusk of the Gods. a godly good he had for gift — how he has shghted it sees he not ; of the ring, that will deal him death, alone he is loath to be rid ! — ■ P'arewell, Siegfried ! A dauntless woman to-day as thy heir will be greeted ; she gives us easier ear. To her ! To her ! To her ! { They switji, sin^ng^ away. ) Siegfried {looks after thefn with a smile). On land, I learn, and on water like are women in ways ; whom flattery fails to thaw, with threats they think to fright him ; who scorns their scaring face, he fleetly will find they scold. — And yet — yoked me not Outrun' fast, the gladdest and fairest swimmer sweetly had felt my sway ! {.The cries of htinti-ng-horns approach from the height; Siegfried answers vterrily on his horn.) i.G7miher, Hagen andmen covie, during whatfollows, downfro7n the height.) Hagen {yet on the height). Hoyho ! Siegfried. Hoyho ! The Men. Hoyho ! Hoyho ! Dusk of the Gods. 335 Hagen. Find we at last how far thou hast fled ? Siegfried. Come below ! fresh and cool it feels. Hagen. So meet for rest, and right for the meal. Unload the booty, and broach the leathers ! f^Tke gaiite is laid in a heap; drink-horns and wine-skins are ir ought. All then lie down.) Hagen. His speed has harmed our sport ; so shall you hear of wonders that Siegfried's hunt has worked. Siegfried (laughinff). Ill fare I for food ; at others' booty I beg to bite. Hagen. Thou bootyless ? Siegfried. I hied for wood-sport out, but water-game only beheld ; had I counted on such comers, three wayward water-fowl I fairly had brought to booty, who sang, as they sat before me, I here to-day should be slain. {Gunther starts, and looks darkly at Hagen.) Hagen. Such were a spiteful sport, where the hapless hunter himself an unthankful beast should slaughter ! 336 Dusk of the Gods. Siegfried. I'm thirsty ! {_He has placed himself between Hagen and Guniher ; j nil drink-horns are handed to them.) Hagen. I've heard it whispered, Siegfried, — what say the birds in singing thou rightly can'st tell ; — were such the truth ? Siegfried. For long I've minded their lisping no more. i.He drinks and then hands his horn to Gunther.) Drink, Gunther, drink ! Thy brother bids begin. Gunther {gazing thoughtfully and gloomily into the horn). It looks but poor and pale ; — thy blood alone thou bring'st ! Siegfried (laughing). With bloom of thine I blend it ! (He pours fro»t Gunthet's horn into his own till it overflows.) To leap the lip they mingle ; on mother earth fall it with freshening ease ! Gunther (sighing). What makes so high thy mirth ? Siegfried (lightly to Hagen). He finds Briinnhild' his match ? Hagen. Might he but fathom her, as thou the birds thou hear'st ! Dusk of the Gods. 337 Siegfried. Since women I made my singers, has slept my mood for the woods. Hagen. They sent thee once their song ! Siegfried. Come ! Gunther ! Comfortless man ! Freely for thanks, with tales I'll befriend thee about my times of boyhood. Gunther. I'll gladly hear. Hagen. So, hero, sing ! {All place themselves close ahout Siegfried^ who alone sits upright^ wlulc the others stretch themselves further on the ground.^ Siegfried. Mime was named a muttering dwarf, who with endless grudge guided me up, in hope the boy, when bigger and bold, in the wood should slay him the Worm, who slept on a hidden hoard. In smoke I was held, to hammer and smelt ; till where the smith was weak at his work, the learner's mettle made him a master — so that a broken blade he welded sound from its worthless bits. My father's sword freshly I set ; 338 Dusk of the Gods. never than now firmer was Nothung ; fit for the deed . deemed it the dwarf; so forth to the wood we went ; and I felled him Fafner, the Worm. — ■ Now for your whole heed is the news ; wonders wait for your knowledge. With his blood I felt my fingers on fire ; I laid them fast to my lips ; and hardly had tasted the heat on my tongue, — when, what a bird above me now sang — in words I saw. The boughs he sat as he said ; — " Hi ! Siegfried shall have now the Nibelungs' hoard, for here in the hole it awaits his hand ! Let him not turn from the tarn-helm, it leads him to tasks of deUght ; but finds he a ring for his finger, the world he will rule with his will ! " Hagen. Ring and tarn-helm found'st thou in truth ? The Men. And talked thy friend to thee further ? Siegfried. Ring and helm rightly I held ; to lisp again he began as I listened, — and sat aloft while he sang ; — Dusk of the Gods. 339 " Hi ! Siegfried is holder of ring now and helm ; but trust in Mime no more he may try ! The hoard at his hand he but looked for ; now lies he in wait by the way ; for the life of Siegfried he searches ; let Mime with Siegfried not meddle ! " Hagen. And wise were his words ? The Men. Was Mime outwitted ? Siegfried. With drink for my death he near to me drew ; told with tottering tongue of his falseness ; Nothung finished his talk. Hagen ilcmghitig). The sword he had failed at found he so friendly? The Men. What bade the bird to thee further ? Hagen (.after squeezing the juice of a herb intn the drink-horn). Hero, drink ; for here my horn shall deal thee a draught I mixed, that thy thought might not be faithless to things that are far and folded ! Siegfried (after he has drunk). In sorrow aloft I sought through the leaves, where still he stayed and sang ;— 340 Dusk of the Gods. " Hi ! Siegfried the slippery dwarf has slain ! Now, would he might win the lordliest wife ! Afar she sleeps on a height, a fire besets her hall ; he baffles the blaze, he wakens the bride, Briinnhild' he wins to his breast ! " (Guuiher listens with growing wonder.) Hagen. And had the bird's behest thy heed ? Siegfried. Soon as he said it forward I set, till the fiery rock I reached ; I parted the flame, and found for pay — sweetly a woman asleep in midst of her warding mail. Her head I helped from clasp of the helm ; my kiss awakened her wide ; — ah, like a fire I felt on my body Briinnhilde's arms ! GUNTHER. How says he ? (Two ravens rise from a thicket^ wheel over Siegfried^ andjly away.) Hagen. And ravens' riddles as well can'st thou read ? {.Siegfried starts sharply up and^ turning his back towards Hagen^ looks after the ravens.) Hagen. Murder rouse they in me ! {He thrusts his spear into Siegfrieds back ; Gunther — too late— seizes his arm.) Dusk of the Gods. 341 GUNTHER AND THE MeN. Hagen ! what mean'st thou ? [Siegfried with both, hands swings up his shield, to crush Hagen with it ; his strength leaves him ; the shield sinks from his hand; he himself with a crash/alls over it.') Hagen {pointing to him as he lies on the ground^ His oath is on him ! {He turns quietly aside, and walks slowly away over the height, till he disappears.) (jGunther in grief bends down to Siegfried's side. The men stand sadly round him as he dies. Long silence of the deepest distress. At the coming of the ravens twilight had already begun to fall.) SlEGFKIED {with a flash once 7nore opening his eyes, and beginning with solemn voice). Briinnhilde — hoHest bride — behold ! hft up thy lashes ! — Why again to sleep art thou gone ? Who drowns thee in slumber so deep ? The wakener came ; with kiss he calls ; he breaks from the bride the fetters that bound her ; till Briinnhild' laughs for delight ! — Ah ! — for her eyes are open for ever ! — Ah ! — for her breath is billows of blessing ! — Swallowing sweetness — happiest horror ; — greeting Briinnhilde bids ! — {He dies.) (The men lift the body on to the shield andcarry it in solemn train slowly away oner the height. Gunther walks nearest the body. The moon breaks out through clouds, and lights the mournful procession along the height. Then from the Rhine mists rise, and gradually fill the whole stage up to the front. When the mist parts again the scene is changed.) 342 Dusk of the Gods. The Gibichungs^ Hall. ( With the space by the rwer^ as in the first act. Night. Moonlight is reflected in the Rhine. Gutrune contes out of her chamber into'the hall.) Gutrune. Heard I his horn ? {She listens.) Hark !— Not yet is he near. — Sickening dreams have daunted me in sleep ! — Wildly heard I whinny his horse ; — Briinnhild's laughter awoke me at last. — Who was the woman that went to-wards the Rhine ? — How Brunnhild' haunts me ! — Bides she at home ? {She listens at a door on the rights and then calls softly.) Briinnhild' ! Briinnhild' !— Art thou up ? — {.She timidly opens the door and looks in.) Bare is her bed ! — So she it was, that I watched to-wards the Rhine ? — {She becomes jrightened andlistens towards the distance.) He is it now ? — No!— None is hither. — Siegfried only be soon ! {She is about to turn again to her chamber; as she, hotoever, hears Hagen's voice, she sto^s, and, Jixedwith fear, stands for some time without moving.) Hagen's {voice fro/n without, coming nearer). Hoyho ! Hoy ho ! Awake ! Awake ! Torches ! Torches ! Forth with fire ! Dusk of the Gods. 343 Home comes the quarry from hunt. Hoyho ! Hoyho ! {Light and growing flash of flre front vjitkout.) Hagen {coming into the hall). Wake, Gutrun', and welcome Siegfried ! The hero nears by now his home. {Men and Women, with lights and firebrands, accompany in great con- fusion the train of those wlio are coming home with Sieg/ried's body, among whom is Gunther.) GUTRUNE {in great dread) What befell, Hagen ? I heard not his horn ! Hagen. His mouth is pale, it blows no more ; he goes not to forest or fight again ; nor woos for the winsomest women ! GUTRUNE {with growing terror"). What bring the men ? Hagen. From a murd'ring boar his booty ; Siegfried, who by him was slain ! {Guirune screams and throws herself on the body, which has been set down in the middle of the hall. General emotion and sorrow.) Gunther {as he tries to lift the fainting Gutrune). Gutrune, sweetest sister ! Waken thy sight ! Say me a word ! 344 Dusk of the Gods. GUTRUNE {^coming to herself)' Siegfried ! — Siegfried is slain ! She thrusts Gunther impetuously back^ Hence, treacherous brother ! Thy hand has killed my husband ! O help ! Help ! Sorrow ! Sorrow ! Among them Siegfried they murdered ! Gunther. Who sets on me the harm ? For Hagen save thy summons ; no other the cursed boar is, who killed this matchless man. Hagen. Have I for such thy hate ? Gunther. Ill and sorrow seize thee for ever ! Hagen {coming close, luith terrible defiance). Yea then ! His death is my doing ; I — Hagen — hit to his heart ! His life he owed to my spear, that sped his lying oath. Meetly I've wrought, and made boundless my right of booty ; which so I seize in this ring. Gunther. Away ! — What now is mine thy meed thou never shalt make. Hagen. Be round me, men, in my right! Dusk of the Gods. 345 GUNTHER. Shamelessly seizes Gutrun's heirdom the Niblung's son ? Hagen {drawing his sword). The Niblung's heirdom reaches so — his son ! {He attacks Gwnther ; he defends hifnself ; they Jight. The men threw tkemsehes between thetn. Gunther, at a stroke of Hagen' s, falls dead to the ground.') Hagen. Here — the ring ! {He grasps at Siegfried^ s hand^ which lifts itself threateningly up. General horror. Gutrune and the viomen scream ahud. Front the back- ground Brnnnhilde strides firmly and solemnly towards the fronts Brunnhilde {still in the background). Swerve from the whelming sound of your woe ! On the way of her vengeance treads the wife you betrayed. {She steps calmly further forwards.) Babes I meet, who whimper for their mother, when wholesome milk they have wasted, but leave such lordly sorrow unlifted as beseems the man that you mourn. Gutrune. Briinnhild', the grudge that grieved thee has brought on our heads this harm ! To heat the men to his murder woe that we welcomed thee here ! Brunnhilde. Poor woman, peace ! His wife thou hast barely been ; as harlot alone had'st thou his heart. 346 Dusk of the Gods. The wife that he wed am I ; he had sworn to me endless oaths, ere sight of thy face he found. GUTRUNE (/« mildest desjmir). O hateful Hagen ! Woe ! Ah, woe ! That with the drink he helped me to wile her husband from her ! O Sorrow ! Sorrow ! How swiftly I deem that Briinnhild's indeed the bride I gave him drink to forget ! {.Full of shame she turns away from Siegfried^ and with grief bends over Gunther's body ; she refnains thus —motionless — till thi end. Long silence. Hageji, sunk in gloomy thought and leaning on his spear and shield, stands defiantly at the extremity of the other side.) Brunnhilde {alone in the middle ; after she has for a long "while, at first with a deep shudder, then with almost overpowering sadness, contemplated Siegfrieds face, she turns "with solemn exaltation to the jnen and women). Build me with logs aloft on his brim a heap for the Rhine to heed ; fast and far tower the flame, as it licks the limbs the highest hero has left ! — His horse guide to my hand, to be gone with me to his master ; for amidst his holiest meed to be with him I long in every limb. — Fulfil Briinnhilde's bent ! ( Tlie younger 7nen, during what follows, raise a great juneralpile in front of the hall, near the bank of the Rhine; 'women dress it with hangings, on wliich they strew herbs and flowers^ Brunnhilde {again lost in contemplation of Siegfrieds body). Like a look of sun he sends me his light ; Dusk of the Gods. 347 his soul was faultless that false I found ! His bride he betrayed by truth to his brother, and from her whose haunt was wholly his bosom, barred himself with his sword. — Sounder than his, are oaths not sworn with ; better than his, held never are bargains ; holier than his, love is unheard of ; and yet to all oaths, to every bargain, to faithfullest love too — has lied never his like ! — See you how it was so ? — O you, who heed our oaths in your heaven, open your eyes on the bloom of my ill — and watch your unwithering blame ! For my summons hark, thou highest god ! Him, by his daringest deed — that filled so fitly thy hope, darkly thy means doomed in its midst to ruin's merciless wrong ; me — too to betray he was bounden, that wise a woman might be ! Guess I not now of thy good ?- - Nothing ! Nothing ! Nought is hidden ; all is owned to me here ! 348 Dusk of the Gods. Fitly thy ravens take to their feathers ; with tidings dreadly dreamed for, hence to their home they shall go. Slumber ! Slumber, thou god ! — iShe signs to the men to lift Siegfrieds body and hear it to the funeral pile ; at the same time she drams the ring from Siegfrieds finger, contem- plates it during what follows, aTtd at last puts it on Jier own.) My heirdom here behold me hallow ! — Thou guilty ring ! Ruining gold ! My hand gathers, and gives thee again. You wisely-seeing water-sisters, the Rhine's unresting daughters, I deem your word was of weight ! All that you ask now is your own ; here from my ashes' heap you may have it ! — The flame as it clasps me round, free from its curse the ring ! — Back to its gold unbind it again, and far in the flood withhold its fire, the Rhine's unslumbering sun, that for harm from him was reft. — (She turns towards the lack, where Siegfrieds body lies already on the pile, and seizes from a man the great firebrand.) Away, you ravens ! Whisper to your master what here among us you heard ! By Briinnhild's rock your road shall be bent ; who roars yet round it, Loge — warn him to Walhall ! Dusk of the Gods. 349 For with doom of gods is darkened the day ; so — set I the torch to Walhall's towering walls. i^he flings the hrcuidinto the heap of woody which quiciily blazes up. Two ravens have flown up from the bank^ and disappear towards the back- ground^* Two young vien bring in the horse ; Brfmnhilde seizes and quickly unbridles it.) Grane, my horse, hail to thee here ! ELnowest thou, friend, how far I shall need thee ? * Before the poem was put to music the following additional lines were at this place given to Bri'mnhilde, as she once more turned to the bystanders : — You, blossoming life's abiding abode, of my words be mindful, mark what they mean ! See you in fathomless fire Siegfried and Briinnhilde fade, — see you the River's daughters go down to the deep with the ring, — to northward now look through the night ; afar if heaven is holy with fire, be held by all that Walhall's end you behold ! — When once the gods like wind are gone, when without wielders I've left the world, to my holiest wisdom's hoard I help it here on its way. — Not goods, nor gold, nor greatness of gods ; not house, nor land, nor lordly life ; 35° Dusk of the Gods. Behold how lightens hither thy lord, Siegfried — my sorrowless hero. To go to him now neigh'st thou so gladly ? Lure thee to him the light and the laughter ?- Feel how my bosom fills with its blaze ! Hands of fire hold me at heart ; fully to fold him, to feel I am felt, in masterless love to be laid to his limbs ! — not burdensome bargains' treacherous bands, not wont with the lying weight of its law ; happy, in luck or need, holds you nothing but love. — As the poet in these lines had already endeavoured, with sententious thought, to supply in anticipation the musical working of the drama, — so in the course of the long inter- ruptions which kept him from the musical completion of his poem, he felt himself moved to the following conception of the last parting lines, as more calculated .to produce such working : — Fare I now no more to Walhall's fastness, where is the rest I ride to ? From Wish-home forth are my feet Dream-home walk they no further: the gaping gates of boundless being here behind me I bar ; to the will-less holy home of my hunger, the world-wanderer's goal, for birth not again to bind me, guarded in knowledge I go. Dusk of the Gods. 351 Heiaho ! Grane ! Greeting to him ! Siegfried ! Briinnhild' see ! Happy hails thee thy bride ! {Ske has swung herself stortnily on to the horse^ and rides it with a leap into the burning pile. The Jlame at once soars crackling on high, so that the fire Jills the whole space in front of the hall^ and seems almost to seize on the kail itself. In terror the women press to the foreground. Suddenly the fire sinks, so that nothing but a gloojny heat-cloud remains hangifig over the place ; this rises and completely parts ; the Rhine has violently swollen forward from itsbankj androlls its water aver the place ofihefire., up to the threshold of the hall. The Three Rhine-Daughters have ^wu^forward onitswaves. — Hagen, who since what happened with the ring has in growing anxiety watched BrUnnhilde^s demeanour, at the sight of the Rhine-Daughters is seized with the greatest dread; lie hurriedly flings away spear, shield, and helmet, and with the cry., "Unhand the ring!" plunges, as if out of his senses, into the flood. Woglinde and Wellgunde wind his neck in their arms, and so draw him with them as they swim back into the deep; Floss- hilde, in front of the others, holds exultingly on high the ring which she has seized. — In the sky, at the same titne, breaks out from the distance a reddish glotv like the Northern Light, which groT.vs continually broader and stronger. — The men and women, in speechless commotion, watch both the action and the appearance in the sky. — The curtain f alls. ^ Happy ease from all that's endless, — ween you how it was won ? Suffering love's most sunken sorrow widely opened my eyes ; wither saw I the world. — In the end it could ?io£ but be evident to the composer that these lines, their thought being already expressed with the greatest clearness in the workingofthe drama as given with its mtisic, could not in actual representation be retained. ERRATUM. Page Tl, top ; after WOTAN insert {,deep in contemplation of the castle). TO RICHARD WAGNER With a privately printed Copy of "Dusk of the Gods." (" So musst du ihn liebenP) To hope was hard when first I heard it said, from bird to bud in fitful fields of Spring, that I, whose ease was love for everything that made itself my own in heart or head by dint of beauty, lo had found instead a labour left undone for me to do ; — and here again were grief, when further two of life's unlasting years are harvested and sounds of seated Summer in the land beset me like a solace while above an ended work I lift the farewell hand, but that the time has taught me : — if it prove that love in less than love could understand an answer, it were less itself than love. Summer, 1875. "THE NIBELUNG'S RING," Mr. Alfred Forman's Translation of "Der Ring des NiBELUNGEN." Richard Wagner : — .... Fiir diesen Eifer und diese Liebe sage ich Ihnen meinen warmsten Dank, und soil es mich sehr freuen wenn Sie diese schone Arbeit dem Wagner- Verein und ins besondere meinem Freund Herrn Dannreuther iibergeben. Algernon Charles S-svinburne : — I do not wonder at the cordiality of commendation bestowed by the master on such a version of his great work. Hans von Biilo-w : — A most marvellous translation, John Payne : — Mr. Alfred Forman has successfully accomplished a task which might rebut the boldest of translators. Richard Garnett : — Mr. Forman's translation is a marvellous tour deforce. Ed-ward Dannreuther: — Forman's translation was a labour of love. He never departs from ths form or spirit of the original. Athenaeum : — Intending visitors to the pCTformances of Wagner's colossal work cannot be too strongly urged to peruse Mr. Alfred Forman's admirable translation of the poem. Academy :— The extraordinary difficulty of the task may be imagined when it is said that not merely is the English version fitted to the music, the rhythm and metre being closely adhered to, but that even the allitera- tive verse has been preserved in the translation. 354 Standard:— The spirit of the poem can best be seized through Mr. Forman's really admirable translation. Daily Ne-ws : — A very close translation. Morning Post : — Mr. Forman has been deservedly praised by Wagner and Von Billow for the excellence of his v»'ork. Daily Chronicle : — In Mr. Forman's work we are borne into an ideal sphere. We wonder at the wealth of pregnant words ; we are entranced by the unity of style and feeling ; and under his guidance we traverse the new world of poetry which Wagner himself has revealed to us. Globe :— Mr. Forman's version supplies a public want. It has the merit of following the original very closely, both in meaning and form. St. James's Gazette : — Mr. Forman has produced what must in itself be regarded as a fine poem. Kvening News : — Mr. Alfred Forman's admirable translation of the gigantic tetralogy ' ' Der Ring des Nibelungen, " is entitled to rank as a valuable contribu- tion to the dramatic literature of the day. Court Circular : — Wagner is to be greatly congratulated on having found an interpreter who has recognized in ' ' Der Ring des Nibelungen " a tragic poem of the first importance, and who has rendered it into English in such a manner as to convey the same impression. "Weekly Dispatch : — A splendid translation. . . Mr. Forman's task has evidently been a labour of love. Weekly Times : — The diction of Mr. Forman's translation is everywhere marked by that inventive and organizing sense of language which is the gift of only a born poet. 355 London Figaro : — An admirable English adaptation. . . . This was the version approved by Wagner. Society : — In Mr. Alfred Forman's translation, the alliterative beauty and Teutonic strength of the original have been preserved in a manner that is simply marvellous. Musical Standard : — The philological import of Mr. Forman's work is as great as its poetic charm. We rise from perusal of the transcription with the consciousness that we have passed through the same world and received the same impressions as during our reading of the original. Musical World : — A masterly version, or rather marvellous counterpart of the original. Musical Times : — None but a genuine enthusiast would have dreamed of undertaking so herculean a work as this translation. ... It can be honestly recommended as giving an excellent idea both of the spirit and form of the work. Manchester Kxaminer : — Mr. Alfred Forman's version is at once a poem in itself, and one in which the spirit of the original is faithfully reproduced. Northern Kcho : — To have failed in such an undertaking would have been to have excited admiration for the boldness of the attempt. To have succeeded is a felicity any Englishman of letters might envy. Vienna Neues Fremden-Blatt :— The existence of so valuable a translation as Forman's should serve to spread continually wider and wider the interest in and the under- standing of Wagner's creations in England. Glasenapp's " Life of "Wagner " :— The translation of the poem of " Der Ring des Nibelungen," by Alfred Forman, has the reputation of being a work of monumental importance. BY THE SAME AUTHOR. TRISTAN AND ISOLDE English words to Richard Wagner's "Tristan und Isolde" in the mixed Alliterative and Rhyming Metres of the Original. The only English Version approved by Wagner. Musical "World : — Mr. Forman has endowed our literature with a work that will stand alone in that department which bears the heading "Richard Wagner," for we feel justified in ranking it even higher than this gentleman's own version of the " Ring." In Preparation. PARSIFAL English words to Richard Wagner's^ Consecr-'^tion- Festival-Play.