GUNTHER.

  Thou’rt my noble wife!

  BRUNHILDA.

  ’Tis sweet to hear that word, and now it seems
  As strange to me that once I used to ride
  To battle on my horse and hurl my spear,
  As it would seem to see thee turn the spit! 
  I cannot bear the sight of weapons now,
  And my own shield I find too heavy far;
  I tried to lay it by, but had to call
  My maid.  I’d rather watch the spiders spin
  And see the little birds that build their nests,
  Than go with thee!

  GUNTHER.

  Yet this time thou must go!

  BRUNHILDA.

  And I know why.  Forgive me!  What I thought
  Was weakness was but magnanimity,
  For thou would’st not disgrace me on the ship
  When I defied thee!  Naught of that there dwelt
  Within my heart, and therefore has the strength
  That some caprice of nature gave to me
  Departed from me, and returned to thee!

  GUNTHER.

  Since thou art gentle, then be reconciled
  With Siegfried too!

  BRUNHILDA.

  Oh, name him not to me!

  GUNTHER.

  There is no reason thou shouldst hate him so.

  BRUNHILDA.

  And if I have none?  When a king descends
  To fill the humble office of a guide
  And carry messages, it is indeed
  As strange as if a man should take the place
  Of his own horse, the saddle on his back,
  Or bay and hunt in service of his hound. 
  But if it pleases him, what’s that to me!

  GUNTHER.

  It was not so.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Still stranger ’t is to see
  His noble stature tow’ring high above
  All other men, so that it even seems
  That he has gathered all the royal crowns
  Of all the world to forge them into one,
  And thus to show the world for the first time
  A perfect picture of true majesty. 
  For it is true, while still upon the earth
  More crowns than one are gleaming, none is round,
  And for the sun’s full circle even thou
  Wearest a crescent pale upon thy head.

  GUNTHER.

  But see.  Thou hast already viewed the man
  With other eyes.

  BRUNHILDA.

  I greeted him ere thee. 
  Then slay him—­challenge him—­win my revenge!

  GUNTHER.

  Brunhilda!  He’s the husband of my sister,
  And so his blood is mine.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Do battle then
  With him and lay him low upon the ground,
  And let me see thy rightful majesty
  When he is as a footstool for thy feet!

  GUNTHER.

  Our custom is not so. 
  BRUNHILDA.  I will not yield;
  His downfall I must see.  Thou hast the heart
  Of life, and he the glitter and the show. 
  But blow away this magic which e’er holds
  The gaze of fools upon him.  If Kriemhild
  Casts down those eyes in shame, that now she lifts
  Almost too proudly when she’s by his side,
  ’Twill do no damage, and I promise thee
  Far richer love if thou wilt do the deed.