Hother.  Ha, Vanfred!

Loke.  Well?

Hother.  I do admire more and more thy wisdom. 
But whilst we fought, where were the maids of battle?

Loke.  They were my dread; I quak’d at every shadow
And every leaf that mov’d, lest I should see them. 
When I saw that no one of the sisters
Heard the high call, and din of shield and falchion,
My courage rose—­I knew thou wast in safety: 
They hear no fight where no one’s doomed to perish.

Hother.  And now the spear thou spak’st about?

Loke.  She has it,
Valfather’s favour’d maid—­his trusty servant,
At length discover’d by unwearied searching
The spear by which his much-lov’d son shall perish. 
Shortly ere thou didst call, as in my cavern
I sat, its vaulted roof begun to tremble. 
Three times my stilly dwelling shook, and o’er me
A sound assailed my ear; ’twas like the tempest’s
When it uptears the mountain oak; then heard I
The voice of Rota; black huge drops did trickle
Of Jotun blood, of them whom Odin slaughtered,
Through the rock’s rifts.  I knew by all these signals
That she had found the right, the fatal weapon.

Hother (impatiently).  Where is it—­where?

Loke.  She hardens it in Nastroud.

Hother.  Peace, dreamer!  Go!

Loke.  I see this heat with pleasure,
And to extinguish all thy doubts, I’ll show thee—­
If thou dare see her—­the terrific Rota.

Hother.  What, Vanfred! if I dare?

Loke.  Enough!  Look westward!

[He touches Hother’s eyelids.  Immediately is seen the entrance of a vast cavern, which is only illumined by the flames which, with a continual roaring, now sinking, now rising, appear in its deepest part.  At the entrance, on each side, is a little round altar.  On the one a flame is burning in which lies the fatal spear.  On the other stands a caldron.  The Valkyrier move in a circle round the first.

The three VALKRIER.

The first. Flames of Nastroud
Blaze away! 
The deepmost deeps feel
Valhall’s May.

The second.  Flames whose roaring
With dismay
E’en Asa hears,
Fate’s voice obey.

Rota.  Poisonous blazes
Harden a spear
For Valhall’s May!

All three.  Poisonous blazes
Harden a spear
For Valhall’s May.

Rota.  Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.

The first. Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.

The second.  Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.

All three.  Whom it woundeth
It shall slay.

Rota (takes the spear from the fire and goes towards the other altar). 
Enough, enough!  Now will we in the caldron
Cool its red point—­now backward turns the circle,
And as we turn, the life of him turns backward
Whom the spear smites; as quench’d are Nastroud’s sparkles
Vanish shall the life of him it woundeth.