in fear,
  And if thou lovest it, ’tis only this,
  That thou wast born the last of all thy race. 
  Above, the storms rage ever, and the sea
  Forever surgeth and the fiery mount
  In labor moaneth, while the fearful light
  That streameth ruddy from the firmament,
  As streams the blood from sacrificial stone,
  Is such as devils only may endure.—­
  To breathe the air is like to drinking blood!

  BRUNHILDA.

  What knowest thou of this my wilderness? 
  Naught have I lacked from that fair world of thine. 
  And if I longed for aught, that would I take. 
  Remember that!  Brunhilda needs no gifts!

  SIEGFRIED.

  Did I not tell ye true?  To arms!  To arms! 
  By force must she be brought from her wild home! 
  And once ’tis done, then will she give thee thanks.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Perchance that is not true.  And knowest thou
  The sacrifice thou askest?  Thou know’st not,
  And no man knoweth.  Harken now to me,
  And ask yourselves how I’ll defend my rights. 
  With us the time is motionless; we know
  Nor spring nor summer nor the autumntide. 
  The visage of the year is e’er the same,
  And we within the land are changeless too. 
  But although nothing grows and blooms with us,
  As in the sunlight of your distant home,
  Still in our darkness ripen precious fruits
  That in your land ye neither sow nor reap. 
  In the fierce joy of battle I delight
  To conquer every haughty foe that comes
  To steal my freedom.  And I have my youth,
  My glorious youth, and all the joy of life,
  Which still suffice me, and, ere these I lose,
  The benediction of the fates will fall
  Invisibly upon me.  I shall be
  Their consecrated priestess evermore.

  FRIGGA.

  Is’t possible?  My offering sufficed?

  BRUNHILDA.

  The solid earth shall open ’neath my feet
  Revealing all that’s hidden in its depths;
  And I shall hear the singing of the stars,
  And their celestial music understand. 
  And still another joy shall be my share,
  A third one, all impossible to grasp.

  FRIGGA.

  ’Tis thou, ’tis Odin, hast unsealed her eyes! 
  In the deep night her ear was closed to thee—­
  Yet now she sees the spinning of the Norns.

  BRUNHILDA (rising to her full height, with fixed and dreaming
  eyes).

  There comes a morning when I do not go
  To hunt for bears, or find the great sea-snake
  That’s frozen in the ice, and set him free,
  So that his struggles may not smite the stars. 
  I leave the castle early, bravely mount
  My faithful steed.  He bears me joyfully,
  But suddenly I halt.  Before my feet
  The earth has turned to air, and shuddering
  I wheel about.  Behind me ’tis the same! 
  All is transparent—­glowing