SIEGFRIED: The First Act

[A rocky cavern in a wood, in which stands a naturally formed smith's forge, with big bellows. Mime sits in front of the anvil, busily hammering at a sword.] Mime [Who has been hammering with a small hammer, stops working.] Slavery! worry! Labour all lost! The strongest sword That ever I forged, That the hands of giants Fitly might wield, This insolent urchin For whom it is fashioned Can snap in two at one stroke, As if the thing were a toy! [Mime throws the sword on the anvil ill-humouredly, and with his arms akimbo gazes thoughtfully on the ground.] There is one sword That he could not shatter Nothung's splinters Would baffle his strength, Could I but forge Those doughty fragments That all my skill Cannot weld anew. Could I but forge the weapon, Shame and toil would win their reward! [He sinks further back, his head bowed in thought.] Fafner, the dragon grim, Dwells in the gloomy wood; With his gruesome and grisly bulk The Nibelung hoard Yonder he guards. Siegfried, lusty and young, Would slay him without ado; The Nibelung's ring Would then become mine. The only sword for the deed Were Nothung, if it were swung By Siegfried's conquering arm And I cannot fashion Nothung, the sword! [He lays the sword in position again, and goes on hammering in deep dejection.] Slavery! worry! Labour all lost! The strongest sword That ever I forged Will never serve For that difficult deed. I beat and I hammer Only to humour the boy; He snaps in two what I make, And scolds if I cease from work. [He drops his hammer.] Siegfried [In rough forester's dress, with a silver horn hung by a chain, bursts in boisterously from the wood. He is leading a big bear by a rope of bast, and urges him towards Mime in wanton fun.] Hoiho! Hoiho! [Entering.] Come on Come on! Tear him! Tear him! The silly smith! [Mime drops the sword in terror, and takes refuge behind the forge; while Siegfried, shouting with laughter, keeps driving the bear after him.] Mime at the anvil Hence with the beast! I want not the bear! I come thus paired The better to pinch thee Bruin, ask for the sword! Hey! Let him go! There lies the weapon; It was finished to-day. Then thou art safe for to-day! [He lets the bear loose and strikes him on the back with the rope.] Off, Bruin! I need thee no more. [The bear runs back into the wood.] [Comes trembling from behind the forge.] Slay all the bears Thou canst, and welcome But why thus bring the beasts Home alive? [Sits down to recover from his laughter.] For better companions seeking Than the one who sits at home, I blew my horn in the wood, Till the forest glades resounded. What I asked with the note Was if some good friend My glad companion would be. From the covert came a bear Who listened to me with growls, And I liked him better than thee, Though better friends I shall find. With a trusty rope I bridled the beast, To ask thee, rogue, for the weapon. [He jumps up and goes towards the anvil.] [Takes up the sword to hand it to Siegfried.] I made the sword keen-edged; In its sharpness thou wilt rejoice. [He holds the sword anxiously in his hand; Siegfried snatches it from him.] What matters an edge keen sharpened, Unless hard and true the steel? [Testing the sword.] Hei! What an idle, Foolish toy! Wouldst have this pin Pass for a sword? [He strikes it on the anvil, so that the splinters fly about. Mime shrinks back in terror.] There, take back the pieces, Pitiful bungler! 'Tis on thy skull It should have been broken! Shall such a braggart Still go on boasting, Telling of giants And prowess in battle, Of deeds of valour, And dauntless defence?-- A sword true and trusty Try to forge me, Praising the skill He does not possess? When I take hold Of what he has hammered, The rubbish crumbles At a mere touch! Were not the wretch Too mean for my wrath, I would break him in bits As well as his work-- Mime and the infant Siegfried See p. 8 The doting fool of a gnome! And end the annoyance at once! [Siegfried throws himself on to a stone seat in a rage. Mime all the time has been cautiously keeping out of his way.] Again thou ravest like mad, Ungrateful and perverse. If what for him I forge Is not perfect on the spot, Too soon the boy forgets The good things I have made! Wilt never learn the lesson Of gratitude, I wonder? Thou shouldst be glad to obey him Who always treated thee well. [Siegfried turns his back on Mime in a bad temper, and sits with his face to the wall.] Thou dost not like to be told that! [He stands perplexed, then goes to the hearth in the kitchen.] But thou wouldst fain be fed. Wilt eat the meat I have roasted, Or wouldst thou prefer the broth? 'Twas boiled solely for thee. [He brings food to Siegfried, who, without turning round, knocks both bowl and meat out of his hand.] Meat I roast for myself Sup thy filthy broth alone! [In a wailing voice, as if hurt.] This is the reward Of all my love! All my care Is paid for with scorn. When thou wert a babe I was thy nurse, Made the mite clothing To keep him warm, Brought thee thy food, Gave thee to drink, Kept thee as safe As I keep my skin And when thou wert grown I waited on thee, And made a bed For thy slumber soft. I fashioned thee toys And a sounding horn, Grudging no pains, Wert thou but pleased. With counsel wise I guided thee well, With mellow wisdom Training thy mind. Sitting at home, I toil and moil; To heart's desire Wander thy feet. Through thee alone worried, And working for thee, I wear myself out, A poor old dwarf! [Sobbing.] And for my trouble The sole reward is By a hot-tempered boy To be hated and plagued! "And there I learned What love was like" See p. 11 [Has turned round again and has quietly watched Mime's face, while the latter, meeting the look tries timidly to hide his own.] Thou hast taught me much, Mime, And many things I have learned; But what thou most gladly hadst taught me A lesson too hard has proved-- How to endure thy sight. When with my food Or drink thou dost come, I sup off loathing alone; When thou dost softly Make me a bed, My sleep is broken and bad; When thou wouldst teach me How to be wise, Fain were I deaf and dumb. If my eyes happen, To fall on thee, I find all thou doest Amiss and ill-done; When thou dost stand, Waddle and walk, Shamble and shuffle, With thine eyelids blinking, By the neck I want To take the nodder, And choke the life From the hateful twitcher. So much, O Mime, I love thee! Hast thou such wisdom, Explain, I pray thee, A thing I have wondered at Though I go roaming just to avoid thee, Why do I always return? Though I love the beasts All better than thee-- Tree and bird And the fish in the brook, One and all They are dearer than thou-- How is it I always return? Of thy wisdom tell me that. [Tries to approach him affectionately.] My child, that ought to show thee That Mime is dear to thy heart. I said I could not bear thee Forget not that so soon. [Recoils, and sits down again apart, opposite Siegfried.] The wildness that thou shouldst tame Is the cause, bad boy, of that. Young ones are always longing After their parents' nest; What we love we all long for, And so thou dost yearn for me 'Tis plain thou lovest thy Mime, And always must love him. What the old bird is to the young one, Feeding it in its nest Ere the fledgling can flutter, That is what careful, clever Mime To thy young life is, And always must be. Well, Mime, being so clever, This one thing more also tell me [Simply.] The birds sang together So gaily in spring, [Tenderly.] The one alluring the other And thou didst say, When I asked thee why, That they were wives with their husbands. Siegfried sees himself in the stream See p. 12 They chattered so sweetly, Were never apart; They builded a nest In which they might brood; The fluttering young ones Came flying out, And both took care of the young. The roes in the woods, too, Rested in pairs, The wild wolves even, and foxes. Food was found and brought By the father, The mother suckled the young ones. And there I learned What love was like; A whelp from its mother I never took. But where hast thou, Mime, A wife dear and loving, That I may call her mother? [Angrily.] What dost thou mean? Fool, thou art mad! Art thou then a bird or a fox? When I was a babe Thou wert my nurse, Made the mite clothing To keep him warm; But tell me, whence Did the tiny mite come? Could babe without mother Be born to thee? [Greatly embarrassed.] Thou must always Trust what I tell thee. I am thy father And mother in one. Thou liest, filthy old fright! The resemblance 'twixt child and parent I often have seen for myself. I came to the limpid brook, And the beasts and the trees I saw reflected; Sun and clouds too, just as they are, Were mirrored quite plain in the stream. I also could spy This face of mine, And quite unlike thine Seemed it to me; As little alike As a fish to a toad: And when had fish toad for its father? [Very angrily.] How canst thou talk Such terrible stuff? [With increasing animation.] Listen! At last I understand What in vain I pondered so long: Why I roam the woods And run to escape thee, Yet return home in the end. [He springs up.] I cannot go till thou tell me What father and mother were mine. What father? What mother? Meaningless questions! [Springs upon Mime, and seizes him by the throat.] To answer a question Thou must be caught first; Willingly Thou never wilt speak; Mime finds the mother of Siegfried in the forest See p. 13 Thou givest nothing Unless forced to. How to talk I hardly had learned Had it not by force Been wrung from the wretch. Come, out with it, Mangy old scamp! Who are my father and mother? [After making signs with his head and hands, is released by Siegfried.] Dost want to kill me outright! Hands off, and the facts thou shalt bear, As far as known to myself. O ungrateful And graceless child, Now learn the cause of thy hatred! Neither thy father Nor kinsman I, And yet thou dost owe me thy life! To me, thy one friend, A stranger wert thou; It was pity alone Sheltered thee here; And this is all my reward. And I hoped for thanks like a fool! A woman once I found Who wept in the forest wild; I helped her here to the cave, That by the fire I might warm her. The woman bore a child here; Sadly she gave it birth. She writhed about in pain; I helped her as I could. Bitter her plight; she died. But Siegfried lived and throve. [Slowly.] My poor mother died, then, through me? To my care she commended thee; 'Twas willingly bestowed. The trouble Mime would take! The worry kind Mime endured! "When thou wert a babe I was thy nurse " . . . That story I often have heard. Now say, whence came the name Siegfried? 'Twas thus that thy mother Told me to name thee, That thou mightst grow To be strong and fair. "I made the mite clothing To keep it warm " . . . Now tell me, what name was my mother's? In truth I hardly know. "Brought thee thy food, Gave thee to drink " . . . My mother's name thou must tell me. Her name I forget. Yet wait! Sieglinde, that was the name borne By her who gave thee to me. "I kept thee as safe As I keep my skin" . . . [With increasing urgency.] Next tell me, who was my father? [Roughly.] Him I have never seen. But my mother told it thee, surely. He fell in combat Was all that she said. She left the fatherless Babe to my care. "And when thou wert grown I waited on thee, And made a bed For thy slumber soft" . . . Still, with thy tiresome Starling song! That I may trust thy story, Convinced thou art not lying, Thou must produce some proof. But what proof will convince thee? I trust thee not with my ears, I trust thee but with mine eyes: What witness speaks for thee? [After some thought takes from the place where they are concealed the two, pieces of a broken sword.] I got this from thy mother: For trouble, food, and service This was my sole reward. Behold, 'tis a splintered sword! She said 'twas borne by thy father In the fatal fight when he fell. [Enthusiastically.] And thou shalt forge These fragments together, And furnish my rightful sword! Up! Tarry not, Mime; Quick to thy task! If thou hast skill, Thy cunning display. Cheat me no more With worthless trash These fragments alone Henceforth I trust. Lounge o'er thy work, Weld it not true, Trickily patching The goodly steel, And thou shalt learn on thy limbs How metal best should be beat! I swear that this day The sword shall be mine My weapon to-day I shall win! [Alarmed.] What wouldst thou to-day with the sword? Leave the forest For the wide world, Never more to return. Ah, how fair A thing is freedom Nothing holds me or binds! No father have I here, And afar shall be my home Thy hearth is not my house, Nor my covering thy roof. Like the fish Glad in the water, Like the finch Free in the heavens, Off I will float, Forth I will fly, Like the wind o'er the wood Wafted away, Thee, Mime, beholding no more! [He runs into the forest.] [Greatly Alarmed.] Stop, boy! Stop, boy! Whither away? Hey! Siegfried! Siegfried! Hey! [He looks after the retreating figure for some time in astonishment; then he goes back to the smithy and sits down behind the anvil.] He storms away! And I sit here: To crown my cares Comes still this new one; My plight is piteous indeed! How help myself now? How hold the boy here? How lead the young madcap To Fafner's lair? And how weld the splinters Of obstinate steel? In no furnace fire Can they be melted, Nor can Mime's hammer Cope with their hardness. [Shrilly.] The Nibelung's hate, Need and sweat Cannot make Nothung whole, Never will weld it anew. [Sobbing, he sinks in despair on to a stool behind the anvil.] Wanderer (Wotan) [Enters from the wood by the door at the back of the cave. He wears along dark blue cloak, and, for staff, carries a spear. On his head is a round, broad-brimmed slouched hat.] All hail, cunning smith! A seat by thy hearth Kindly grant The wayworn guest. [Starting up in alarm.] Who seeks for me here In desolate woods, Finds my home in the forest wild? Wanderer [Approaching very slowly step by step.] Wanderer names me the world, smith. From far I have come; On the earth's back ranging, Much I have roamed. If Wanderer named, Pray wander from here Without halting for rest. Good men grudge me not welcome; Many gifts I have received. By bad hearts only Is evil feared. Ill fate always Dwelt by my side; Thou wouldst not add to it, surely! [Slowly coming nearer and nearer.] Always searching, Much have I seen; Things of weight Have told to many; Oft have rid men Of their troubles, Gnawing and carking cares. Though thou hast searched, And though much thou hast found, I need neither seeker nor finder. Lonely am I, And lone would be; Idlers I harbour not here. [Again coming a little nearer.] There were many Thought they were wise, Yet what they needed Knew not at all; Useful lore was Theirs for the asking, Wisdom was their reward. [More and more anxious as he sees the Wanderer approach.] Idle knowledge Some may covet; I know enough for my needs. [The Wanderer reaches the hearth.] My own wits suffice, I want no more, So, wise one, keep on thy way. [Sitting down at the hearth.] Nay, here at thy hearth I vow by my head To answer all thou shalt ask. My head is thine, 'Tis forfeit to thee, Unless I can give Answers good, Deftly redeeming the pledge. [Who has been staring at the Wanderer open mouthed, now shrinks back; aside, dejectedly.] Now how to get rid of the spy? The questions asked must be artful. [He summons up courage for an assumption of sternness; aloud.] Thy head for thy Lodging pays: 'Tis pawned; now seek to redeem it. Three the questions Thou shalt be asked. Thrice then I must answer. [Pulls himself together and reflects.] Since, far on the back Of the wide earth roving, Thy feet have ranged o'er the world, Come, answer me this: Tell me what race Dwells in the earth's deep gorges. In the depths of earth The Nibelungs have their home; Nibelheim is their land. Black elves they all are; Black Alberich Once was their ruler and lord. He subdued the busy Folk by a ring Gifted with magical might; And they piled up Shimmering gold, Precious, fine-wrought, To win him the world and its glory. Proceed with thy questions, dwarf. [Sinks into deeper and deeper meditation.] Thou knowest much, Wanderer, Of the hidden depths of earth. Now, answer me this: Tell me what race Breathes on earth's back and moves there. On the earth's broad back The race of the giants arose; Riesenheim is their land. Fasolt and Fafner, The rude folk's rulers, Envied the Nibelung's might. So his wonderful hoard They won for themselves, And with it gained the ring too. The brothers quarrelled About the ring, And slain was Fasolt. In dragon's form Fafner now watches the hoard. One question threatens me still. [Quite lost in thought.] Much, Wanderer, Thou dost know Of the earth's back rude and rugged. Now answer aright: Tell me what race Dwells above in the clouds. Above in the clouds Dwell the Immortals; Walhall is their home. They are light-spirits; Light-Alberich, Wotan, rules as their lord. From the world-ash-tree's Holiest bough once Wotan made him a shaft. Though the stem rot, The spear shall endure, And with that spear-point Wotan rules the world. Trustworthy runes Of holy treaties Deep in the shaft he cut. Who wields the spear Carried by Wotan The haft of the world Holds in his hand. Before him kneels The Nibelung host; The giants, tamed, Bow to his will. All must obey, and for ever, The spear's eternal lord. [He strikes the ground with the spear as by accident, and a low growl of thunder is heard, by which Mime is violently alarmed.] Confess now, cunning dwarf, Are not my answers right, And is not my head redeemed? [After attentively watching the Wanderer with the spear, becomes very frightened, seeks in a confused manner for his tools, and looks timidly aside.] Both thou hast won, Wager and head; Thy way now, Wanderer, go. Knowledge useful to thee Thou wert to ask for; Forfeit my head if I failed. Forfeit be thine, Knowest thou not The thing it would serve thee to know. Greeting thou Gavest me not; My head into thy hand I gave That I might rest by thy hearth. By wager fair Forfeit thy head, Canst thou not answer Three things when asked So sharpen well, Mime, thy wits! [Very much frightened, and after much hesitation, at last composes himself with timid submission.] Long it is Since I left my land; Long it seems to me Since I was born. I saw here the eye of Wotan Shine, peering into my cave; His glance dazes My mother-wit. But well were it now to be wise. Come then, Wanderer, ask. Perhaps fortune will favour The dwarf, and redeem his head. [Comfortably sitting down again.] Then first, honest dwarf, Answer this question: Tell the name of the race That Wotan treats most harshly, [Very softly, but audibly.] And yet loves beyond all the rest. [With more cheerfulness.] Though unlearnèd In heroes' kinship, This question I answer with ease. The Wälsungs are Wotan's Chosen stock, By him begotten And loved with passion, Though they are shown no grace. Siegmund and Sieglinde Born were to Wälse, A wild and desperate Twin-born pair; Siegfried had they as son, The strongest shoot from the tree. My head, say, is it Still, Wanderer, mine? [Pleasantly.] How well thou knowest And namest the race! Rogue, I see thou art clever. The foremost question Thou hast solved; The second answer me, dwarf. A crafty Niblung Shelters Siegfried, Hoping he will slay Fafner, That the dwarf may be lord of the hoard, The ring being his. Say, what sword, If Fafner to fall is, Must be by Siegfried swung? [Forgetting his present situation more and more, rubs his hands joyfully.] Nothung is The name of the sword; Into an ash-tree's stem Wotan struck it; One only might bear it: He who could draw it forth. The strongest heroes Tried it and failed; Only by Siegmund Was it done; Well he fought with the sword Till on Wotan's spear it was split. By a crafty smith Are the fragments kept, For he knows that alone With the Wotan sword A brave and foolish boy, Siegfried, can slay the foe. [Much pleased.] A second time My head have I saved? [Laughing.] The wisest of wise ones Thou must be, surely; Who else could so clever be! But wouldst thou by craft Employ the boy-hero As instrument of thy purpose, With one question more I threaten thee. Tell me, thou artful Armourer, Whose skill from the doughty splinters Nothung the sword shall fashion. [Starts up in great terror.] The splinters! The sword! Alas! my head reels! What shall I do? What can I say? Accursèd sword! I was mad to steal it! A perilous pass It has brought me to. Always too hard To yield to my hammer! Rivet, solder-- Useless are both. [He throws his tools about as if he had gone crazy, and breaks out in utter despair.] The cleverest smith Living has failed; And, that being so, Who shall succeed? How rede aright such a riddle? [Has risen quietly from the hearth.] Three things thou wert to ask me; Thrice was I to reply. Thy questions were Of far-off things, But what stood here at thy hand-- Needed much--that was forgot Now that I guess it, Thou goest crazed, And won by me Is the cunning one's head. Now, Fafner's dauntless subduer, Hear, thou death-doomed dwarf. By him who knows not How to fear Nothung shall be forged. [Mime stares at him; he turns to go.] So ward thy head Well from to-day. I leave it forfeit to him Who has never learned to fear. [He turns away smiling, and disappears quickly in the wood. Mime has sunk on to the bench overwhelmed.] [Stares before him into the sunlit wood, and begins to tremble more and more violently.] Accursèd light! The air is on fire! What flickers and flashes? What buzzes and whirs? What sways there and swings And circles about? What glitters and gleams In the sun's hot glow? What rustles and hums And rings so loud? With roll and roar It crashes this way! It bursts through the wood, Making for me! [He rises up in terror.] Its jaws are wide open, Eager for prey; The dragon will catch me! Fafner! Fafner! [He sinks shrieking behind the anvil.] [Behind the scenes, is heard breaking from the thicket.] Ho there! Thou idler! Is the work finished? [He enters the cave.] Quick, come show me the sword. [He pauses in surprise.] Where hides the smith? Has he made off? Hey, there! Mime, thou coward! Where art thou? Where hidest thou? [In a small voice, from behind the anvil.] 'Tis thou then, child? Art thou alone? Under the anvil? Why, what doest thou there? Wert thou grinding the sword? [Comes forward, greatly upset and confused.] The sword? The sword? How could I weld it? [Half aside.] By him who knows not How to fear Nothung shall be forged. Too wise am I To attempt such work. [Violently.] Wilt thou speak plainly Or must I help thee? [As before.] Where shall I turn in my need? My wily head Wagered and lost is, [Staring before him.] And forfeit to him it will fall Who has never learned to fear. [Vehemently.] Dost thou by shuffling Seek to escape? [Gradually recovering himself.] Small need to fly Him who knows fear! But that lesson was one never taught thee. A fool, I forgot The one great thing; What thou wert taught Was to love me, And alas I the task proved hard. Now how shall I teach thee to fear? [Seizes him.] Hey! Must I help thee? What work hast thou done? Concerned for thy good, In thought I was sitting: Something of weight I would teach thee. 'Twas under the seat That thou wert sitting; What weighty thing foundest thou there? [Recovering himself more and more.] Down there I learned how to fear, That I might teach thee, dullard. [With quiet wonder.] This fear then, what is it? Thou knowest not that, Yet wouldst from the forest Forth to the world? "In dragon's form Fafner now watches the hoard" See p. 21 What help in the trustiest sword, Hadst thou not learned to fear? [Impatiently.] What absurd Invention is this? [Approaching Siegfried with more and more confidence.] 'Tis thy mother's wish Speaking through me. I must fulfil The promise I gave her: That the world and its wiles Thou shouldst not encounter Until thou hadst learned how to fear. Is it an art? Why was I not taught? Explain: this fearing, what is it? In the dark wood Hast thou not felt, When shades of dusk Fall dim and drear, When mournful whispers Sigh afar, And fierce growling Sounds at hand, When strange flashes Dart and flicker, And the buzzing And clamour grow-- [Trembling.] Hast thou not felt grim horror-- Hold every sense in its clutches?-- [Quaking.] When the limbs shiver, Shaken with terror, [With a quivering voice.] And the heart, filled with dismay, Hammers, bursting the breast-- Hast thou not yet felt that, A stranger art thou to fear. [Musing.] Wonderful truly That must be. Steadfast, strong Beats my heart in my breast. The shiver and shudder, The fever and horror, Burning and fainting, Beating and trembling Ah, how glad I would feel them, Could I but learn this delight! But how, Mime, Can it be mine? How, coward, could it be taught me? Following me, The way thou shalt find I have thought it all out. I know of a dragon grim That slays and swallows men: Fear thou wilt learn from Fafner, When I lead to where he lies. Where has he his lair? Neidhöhl' Named, it lies east Towards the end of the wood. It lies not far from the world? The world is quite close to the cave. Mime and the Wanderer See p. 17 That I may learn what this fear is, Lead me there straightway; Then forth to the world! Make haste! Forge me the sword. In the world fain I would swing it. The sword? Woe's me! Quick to the smithy! Show me thy work! Accursèd steel! Unequal my skill to the task; The potent magic Surpasses the poor dwarf's strength. 'Twere more easily done By one who never felt fear. Artful tricks The idler would play me; He is a bungler; He should confess, And not seek to lie his way out. Here with the splinters! Off with the bungler! [Coming to the hearth.] His father's sword Siegfried will weld: By him shall it be forged. [Flinging Mime's tools about, he sets himself impetuously to work.] If thou hadst practised Thy craft with care, Thou wouldst have profited now; But thou wert far Too lazy to learn, And now at need canst do nothing. Where the master has failed What hope for the scholar, Had he obeyed him in all? [He makes a contemptuous grimace at him.] Be off with thee Meddle no more, In case with the steel I melt thee. [He has heaped a large quantity of charcoal on the hearth, and keeps blowing the fire, while he screws up the pieces of the sword in a vice and files them to shavings.] [Who has sat down a little way off, watches Siegfried at work.] Why file it to bits? There is the solder All fused, ready to hand. Off with the pap, I need it not; With paste I fashion no sword! Now the file is ruined, The rasp is useless; Why grind thus the steel to splinters? It must be shivered And ground into shreds; Only so can splinters be patched. [He goes on filing with great energy.] [Aside.] I see a craftsman Is useless here; By his own folly the fool is best served. Look how he toils With lusty strokes; The steel disappears, And still he keeps cool. [Siegfried has blown the fire to a bright flame.] The forging of Nothung See p. 34 Though I am as old As cave and wood, The like I never yet saw! [While Siegfried continues to file the piece of the sword impetuously, Mime seats himself a little further off.] He will forge the sword-- I see it plain-- Boldly weld it anew. The Wanderer was right. Where shall I hide My luckless head? If nothing teaches him fear, Forfeit it falls to the boy. [Springing up and bending down in growing agitation.] But woe to Mime! If Siegfried learn fear, The dragon will never be slain; And, if so, how gain the ring? Accurst dilemma! Would I escape, I must find out some way Of subduing the boy for myself. [Has now filed down the pieces, and puts the filings in a crucible, which he places on the fire.] Hey, Mime! The name!-- Quick, name the sword That I have pounded to pieces. [Starts and turns towards Siegfried.] Nothung, that is The name of the sword; 'Twas thy mother told me the tale. [During the following song keeps blowing the fire with the bellows.] Nothung! Nothung! Conquering sword! What blow, I wonder, broke thee. Thy keen-edged glory I chopped to chaff; The splinters now I am melting. Hoho! Hoho! Hohei! Hohei! Hoho! Bellows blow! Brighten the flame! In the woods A tree grew wild; It fell, by my hand hewn down. The brown-stemmed ash To charcoal I burned; Now it lies heaped high on the hearth. Hoho! Hoho! Hohei! Hohei! Hoho! Bellows blow! Brighten the flame! How bravely, brightly The charcoal burns! How clear and fair its fire! With showering sparks It leaps and glows,-- Hohei! Hoho! Hohei!-- Dissolving the splintered steel! Hoho! Hoho! Hohei! Hohei! Hoho! Bellows, blow! Brighten the flame! Hoho! Hoho! Hoho, hohei! Hohei! Nothung! Nothung! Conquering sword! Siegfried kills Fafner See p. 56 Thy steel chopped to chaff is fused; In thine own sweat Thou swimmest now, [He pours the glowing contents of the crucible into a mould, which he holds up.] But soon my sword thou shalt be! [During the pauses in Siegfried's song, still aside, sitting at a distance.] The sword he will forge And vanquish Fafner, So much I can clearly foresee; Hoard and ring The victor will have; How to win them both for myself! By wit and wiles They shall be captured, And safe shall be my head. [In the foreground, still aside.] After the fight, when athirst, For a cooling draught he will crave; Of fragrant juices Gathered from herbs The draught I will brew for him. Let him drink but a drop, And in slumber Softly lapped he shall lie: With the very sword That he fashioned to serve him He shall be cleared from my way, And treasure and ring made mine. [He rubs his hands with satisfaction.] Ha! dull didst hold me, Wanderer wise! Does my subtle scheming Please thee now? Have I found A path to peace? [He springs up joyfully, fetches several vessels, shakes spices and herbs from them into a pot, and tries to put it on the hearth.] [Has plunged the mould into a pail of water. Steam and laud hissing ensue as it cools.] In the water flowed A flood of fire; Furious with hate, Grimly it hissed; Though scorching it ran, In the cooling flood No more it flows; Stiff, stark it became, Hard is the stubborn steel; Yet warm blood Shall flow thereby! Now sweat once again, That swift I may weld thee, Nothung, conquering sword! [He thrusts the steel into the fire, and blows the bellows violently, While doing so he watches Mime, who, from the other side of the hearth, carefully puts his pot on the fire.] What does the booby Make in his pot? While I melt steel, What art thou brewing? A smith is put to shame, And learns from the lad he taught; All the master's lore is useless now; He serves the boy as cook. Steel thou dost brew into broth; Old Mime boils thee Eggs for thy meal. [He goes on with his cooking.] Mime, the craftsman, Learns to cook now, And cares no longer to forge; I have broken All the swords that he made me; What he cooks my lips shall not touch. [During the following he takes the mould from the fire, breaks it, and lays the glowing steel on the anvil.] To find out what fear is Forth he will guide me; A far-off teacher shall teach me; Even what he does best He cannot do well; In everything Mime must bungle! [During the forging.] Hoho! Hoho! Hohei! Forge me, my hammer, A trusty sword. Hoho! Hahei! Hoho! Hahei! Blood-stained was once Thy steely blue, The crimson trickle Reddened thy blade. How cold was thy laugh! The warm blood cooled at thy touch! Heiaho! Haha! Haheiaha! Now red thou comest From the fire, And thy softened steel To the hammer yields. Angry sparks thou dost shower On me who humbled thy pride. Heiaho! Heiaho! Heiahohohohoho! Hahei! Hahei! Hahei! Hoho! Hoho! Hohei! Forge me, my hammer, A trusty sword! Hoho! Hahei! Hoho! Hahei! How I rejoice In the merry sparks! The bold look best When by anger stirred! Gay thou laughest to me, Grimly though thou dost pretend! Heiaho, haha, haheiaha! Both heat and hammer Served me well; With sturdy strokes I stretched thee straight; Now banish thy modest blush, Be as cold and hard as thou canst. Heiho! Heiaho! Heiahohohohoho! Heiah! [He swings the blade, plunges it into the pail of water, and laughs aloud at the hissing.] [While Siegfried is fixing the blade in the hilt, moves about in the foreground with the bottle into which he has poured the contents of the pot. Aside.] He forges a sharp-edged sword: Fafner, the foe Of the dwarf, is doomed; I brewed a deadly draught: Siegfried must perish When Fafner falls. By guile the goal must be reached; Soon shall smile my reward! For the shining ring My brother once made, And which with a potent Spell he endowed, The gleaming gold That gives boundless might-- That ring I have won now, I am its lord. [He trots briskly about with increasing satisfaction.] Alberich even, Whom I served, Shall be the slave Of Mime the dwarf. As Nibelheim's prince I shall descend there, And all the host Shall do my will; None so honoured as he, The dwarf once despised! To the hoard will come thronging Gods and men; [With increasing liveliness.] The world shall cower, Cowed by my nod, And at my frown Shall tremble and fall! No more shall Mime Labour and toil, When others win him Unending wealth. Mime, the valiant, Mime is monarch, Prince and ruler, Lord of the world! Hei, Mime! Great luck has been thine! Had any one dreamed of this! [During the pauses in Mime's song has been filing and sharpening the sword and hammering it with the small hammer. He flattens the rivets of the hilt with the last strokes, and now grasps the sword.] Nothung! Nothung! Conquering sword! Once more art thou firm in thy hilt. Severed wert thou; I shaped thee anew, No second blow thy blade shall shatter. The strong steel was splintered, My father fell; The son who now lives Shaped it anew. Bright-gleaming to him it laughs, And for him its edge shall be keen. [Swinging the sword before him.] Nothung! Nothung! Conquering sword! Once more to life I have waked thee. Dead wert thou, In fragments hewn, Now shining defiant and fair. Woe to all robbers! Show them thy sheen! Strike at the traitor, Cut down the rogue! See, Mime, thou smith; Thus sunders Siegfried's sword! [He strikes the anvil and splits it in two from top to bottom, so that it falls asunder with a great noise. Mime, who has mounted a stool in great delight, falls in terror to a sitting position on the ground. Siegfried holds the sword exultantly on high. The curtain falls.]