BRUNHILDA.

  And now the third?

  FRIGGA.

  For him we waited long.  We had to seek
  In other lands afar, where of the tale
  None knew.  At last this priest baptized the child. 
  His holy office ended, down he fell
  Upon the ground and nevermore arose!

  BRUNHILDA.

  And did the baby live

  FRIGGA.

  She throve apace,
  And strong she grew.  Her playful ways to us
  Were signs what we should do or leave undone. 
  They ne’er deceived us, for the runes had said
  That we might trust them ever.

  BRUNHILDA.

  Frigga!  Frigga!

  FRIGGA.

  Thou art indeed the maid!  Now dost thou know
  Not in the gloomy caverns of the dead,
  In Hecla where the ancient gods still dwell,
  Among the Norns, among the Valkyries,
  Seek thou the mother that gave birth to thee! 
  Oh, that no drop of holy water e’er
  Had touched thy brow!  Then were we wiser far.

  BRUNHILDA.

  What dost thou murmur?

  FRIGGA.

  How then did it hap
  That on this morning we were not in bed,
  But fully robed had tarried in the hall? 
  Our teeth were chattering and our lips were blue.

  BRUNHILDA.

  A sudden sleep o’erwhelmed us, that was all.

  FRIGGA.

  But had it ever happened?

  BRUNHILDA.

  Not before.

  FRIGGA.

  Then hark!  The old man came and tried to speak. 
  It almost seems as if I’d seen him stand
  And grasp thy shoulder; and he threatened me,
  But heavy was thy sleep.  Thou should’st not hear
  What fate awaits thee if thou dost persist. 
  So offer sacrifice and then be free. 
  Oh, had I paid no heed unto the priest,
  Howe’er he urged me!  But the sacred runes
  I had not read aright.—­Come, sacrifice,
  For danger cometh nigh.

  BRUNHILDA.

  ’Tis nigh?

  FRIGGA.

  Alas! 
  Thou knowest that the fiery sea is quenched
  That flamed around thy castle. 
  BRUNHILDA.  Yet the knight
  Still lingers who should wield the magic sword
  And on his war-horse gallop through the flames,
  When he had won proud Fafner’s ill-starred hoard.

  FRIGGA.

  I may have erred.  But yet this second sign
  Cannot deceive me, for I long have known
  That when the fateful hour shall come to thee,
  Clear vision doth await thee.  Sacrifice! 
  Mayhap the ancient gods surround thee now
  Invisibly, and they will straight appear
  With the first blood-drops of thine offering.

  BRUNHILDA.

  I do not fear.

  [Trumpets are heard.]

  FRIGGA.

  The trumpets!

  BRUNHILDA.

  Hast thou ne’er
  Heard them before.