What knowest thou of this my wilderness? Naught have I lacked from that fair world of thine. And if I longed for aught, that would I take. Remember that! Brunhilda needs no gifts! SIEGFRIED. Did I not tell ye true? To arms! To arms! By force must she be brought from her wild home! And once 'tis done, then will she give thee thanks. BRUNHILDA. Perchance that is not true. And knowest thou The sacrifice thou askest? Thou know'st not, And no man knoweth. Harken now to me, And ask yourselves how I'll defend my rights. With us the time is motionless; we know Nor spring nor summer nor the autumntide. The visage of the year is e'er the same, And we within the land are changeless too. But although nothing grows and blooms with us, As in the sunlight of your distant home, Still in our darkness ripen precious fruits That in your land ye neither sow nor reap. In the fierce joy of battle I delight To conquer every haughty foe that comes To steal my freedom. And I have my youth, My glorious youth, and all the joy of life, Which still suffice me, and, ere these I lose, The benediction of the fates will fall Invisibly upon me. I shall be Their consecrated priestess evermore. FRIGGA. Is't possible? My offering sufficed? BRUNHILDA. The solid earth shall open 'neath my feet Revealing all that's hidden in its depths; And I shall hear the singing of the stars, And their celestial music understand. And still another joy shall be my share, A third one, all impossible to grasp. FRIGGA. 'Tis thou, 'tis Odin, hast unsealed her eyes! In the deep night her ear was closed to thee-- Yet now she sees the spinning of the Norns. BRUNHILDA (_rising to her full height, with fixed and dreaming eyes_). There comes a morning when I do not go To hunt for bears, or find the great sea-snake That's frozen in the ice, and set him free, So that his struggles may not smite the stars. I leave the castle early, bravely mount My faithful steed. He bears me joyfully, But suddenly I halt. Before my feet The earth has turned to air, and shuddering I wheel about. Behind me 'tis the same! All is transparent--glowing clouds beneath, As overhead. My maidens prattle still. I call them--Are ye blind? Do ye see naught? We float in empty space! They are amazed, They shake their heads in silence, while they press About me closer. Frigga whispers me: And has thine hour come? Ah, now I see! The solid earth is crystal to my gaze, And what I deemed were clouds were but the web Of gold and silver threads that, glistening, Lay tangled in the depths. FRIGGA. Thy triumph comes! BRUNHILDA.