and so that the hero alone could take it.  The hero is of the seed of his loins, and the fact that Wotan has made life bitter for him counts for nothing against that fact; and, finally, though he could not himself aid Siegmund, he ordered his daughter to do so.  He wished Siegmund to act of his own free-will, and yet to do what he, Wotan, wanted.  Checked by Fricka, he revokes his command to Brunnhilda, and goes off cursing fate.  Siegmund and Sieglinda enter, flying before Hunding; Sieglinda faints, and at last sleeps; and then Brunnhilda steps forward from among the rocks in the gloomy half-light—­a stern, imposing, indeed an awful, figure, the herald of death, seen only by warriors about to die.  The Fate theme sounds from the orchestra, and another melody, out of which nearly the whole scene is woven, is heard, and then, to a simple chord—­supernatural, ghostly in its effect—­she calls Siegmund.  She tells him he is to die and go with her to Valhalla.  He pleads in vain; she (simply, be it remembered, a part of her father’s will) cannot understand why he should refuse to go where his father and so many famous warriors have already gone.  “So young and fair, and yet so cold and stern!” Siegmund exclaims; and at last he asks whether Sieglinda will also be there.  “Siegmund will see Sieglinda no more,” she replies to a quiet phrase of unspeakable pathos.  Then Siegmund refuses to go with her, and he draws his sword to slay first Sieglinda, then himself.  Brunnhilda is overwhelmed by the revelation of a love so devoted, and at last promises to help him.  It is her own nature as is revealed to her.  Night and storm come on; Hunding’s horn is heard as he comes nearer and nearer; Siegmund mounts amongst the rocks to meet him; a flash of lightning reveals them in the act of fighting; Brunnhilda hovers above to strike for him, when Wotan appears in a fiery glare and smashes Siegmund’s sword, so that Hunding’s spear passes through him.  Sieglinda has awakened to see this and collapses; Brunnhilda rapidly descends, and, gathering the fragments of the shattered sword, hurries Sieglinda off to seek shelter from Wotan’s wrath.  Wotan kills Hunding with a contemptuous gesture, telling him to say to Fricka that her will has been accomplished.  He rests there for a moment, then goes off in flaming wrath.  The tragedy has gone a step onward; he has killed his son, and now must punish Brunnhilda—­put away love from himself to the end that he may enjoy a loveless empire.

The music throughout the act is amongst Wagner’s noblest and most beautiful and dramatic.  Every phrase given to Fricka proclaims her queenly and overbearing, with right and power on her side, and relentless determination to use them.  Then there is the Valkyries’ war-whoop—­well known from its use in the Valkyries’ Ride.  Sieglinda has tender, piteous cries.  In the scene of pleading and counter-pleading between Siegmund and Brunnhilda we have Wagner at the zenith of his powers:  the pleading of the man, the calm, cold majesty of the Valkyrie, awe and pathos and heroic defiance, are all there.  From the technical point of view, the scene is equal to Tristan:  the continuous sweep of the music, with its ever-changing colours and emotions, is almost supermasterly.  The tragedy at the end is a stage rather than a musical effect, and it is made the more powerful by being delayed so long and then arriving with such terrific swiftness.