Excuse me my astonishment, fair war-maids!

The first. Hail to thee dauntless warrior, bane of Gelder!

The second.  Hail to thee, Skoldung, valiant son of Hothbrod!

The third.  Hail, hail to thee, my Hother, Leire’s ruler!

Hother (astonished.) Ye know me!

The third.  Yes, thou noble youth, and love thee!

Hother.  Your goodness overwhelms me—­to what godhead
Stand I indebted for this lucky meeting?

The first. I bring to thee a spear to fight with heroes!

The second.  And this, I hand to thee, can slaughter demons!

The third.  This spear is excellent in fight with Jotuns.

Hother.  How shall I e’er repay these costly presents?

The first. Be valiant! fight! send battle’s sons to Valhall!

The second.  Extend the Danish sway and Odin’s worship!

The third.  The sire of many warlike kings of Leire!

[They vanish.

Hother.  There’s nought but sorcery upon these mountains! 
They’ve vanished!  Do I dream to-day?  Where am I? 
Sight, feeling, reason are alike enchanted! 
But here, ye gods! here in my bosom rages
The magic—­Vanfred’s poison.  Nanna, Nanna! 
Shall I mistrust thee, then—­shall I, thy Hother?

[He places the two spears against a tree, whereon he hangs his shield.  That which the first Valkyrier gave him he retains in his hand.

The fire which love enkindles
First warms with bliss the heart,
But soon, ah! soon the traitor
Awaketh burning smart! 
Love’s flame at first discloses
Pure innocence alone;
But quickly by its splendour
A deed of guilt is shown. 
O love! thy bliss is vanish’d,
Thy flame extinguish quite,
For in my bride black falsehood
Now only meets my sight.

Nanna, Hother.

Nanna (who has stood at the entrance of the scene, and has heard the latter part of Hother’s song).  I overheard thee, weak, ignoble Hother!

Hother.  Ah yes, weak! credulous!

Nanna.  Save thyself repentance!

Hother.  Where is thy demigod?

Nanna.  This bosom, Hother, acquitteth me;
That were enough for Nanna, if—­

Hother.  Oh, pray, proceed!

Nanna (affectionately).  Lov’d less—­

Hother (contemptuously).  Whom?  Balder?

Nanna.  Savage! what fiend has pour’d into thy bosom
His bane of late?  Ha! fly from me:  detest me! 
Wilt thou love her thou canst mistrust!

Hother.  Ah, Nanna!