The man was old, and so we marveled not. We called another priest. The holy dew He sprinkled on the child. The blessed words Of benediction halted on his tongue, Nor hath his speech returned. 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. FRIGGA. Never before with dread. The time for lopping thistle-heads is past, And iron helms arise before thee now. BRUNHILDA.