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—
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.
MIME
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.
SIEGFRIED
Meat I roast for myself;
Sup thy filthy broth alone!
MIME [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
[Sobbing.
To be hated and plagued!
SIEGFRIED
[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
