Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2. Рихард Вагнер

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Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2 - Рихард Вагнер

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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.

      MIME

      [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.

      WANDERER

      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.

      MIME [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.

      WANDERER

      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 if 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?

      MIME

      [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.

      WANDERER

      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!

      MIME

      [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.

      WANDERER [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.

      MIME [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?

      WANDERER

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