The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 09: Friedrich Hebbel and Otto Ludwig
General
The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Volume 09: Friedrich Hebbel and Otto Ludwig
German literature -- 19th century -- Translations into English; German literature -- 20th century -- Translations into English
Thou speakest of thyself and not of me!
We need not quarrel, for the whole world knows
That ere my mother bore me, 'twas my fate
The strongest knight alone should conquer me.
KRIEMHILD.
I can believe it.
BRUNHILDA.
Well?
KRIEMHILD (_laughs_).
BRUNHILDA.
Then thou art mad!
Perchance thou fear'st that we shall be too harsh
With all the vassals? Yet thou need'st not fear!
I plant no flower beds in conquered lands,
And only once will I claim precedence
If thou art not too proud and obstinate,--
Here at the church today and nevermore.
KRIEMHILD.
Indeed I'd never have denied it thee,
But, since my husband's honor is at stake,
I will not yield one step.
BRUNHILDA.
He will command
That thou shalt yield.
KRIEMHILD.
How dare'st thou scorn him so!
BRUNHILDA.
He made way for thy brother in my hall,
As vassals for their lord, and he refused
My proffered greeting!--That did not seem strange
While I still thought him--as he called himself--
A serving-man, a messenger to me.
But now it all seems changed.
KRIEMHILD.
And how is that?
BRUNHILDA.
I've seen a wolf slip silently away
Before a bear, and then I've seen the bear
Flee from the mountain bull. Though he's not sworn,
Yet is he still a vassal.
KRIEMHILD.
Say no more!
BRUNHILDA.
Wilt threaten me? Do not forget thyself!
I have my senses--see that thou keep thine:
There must have been some cause beneath all this.
KRIEMHILD.
There was! And if thou shouldst suspect the cause,
How thou wouldst shudder.
BRUNHILDA.
Shudder!
KRIEMHILD.
Yes, indeed!
But do not fear! I love thee even now
Too fondly. Never can I hate thee so
That I will tell the cause. Had aught like that
Befallen me, today I'd dig my grave
With my own hands. Brunhilda, never fear!
I will not make thee the most wretched soul
That draws the breath of life upon the earth!
Then keep thy pride, for pity makes me dumb.
BRUNHILDA.
Thou boastest, Kriemhild! I despise thee now!
KRIEMHILD.
My husband's concubine despises me!
BRUNHILDA.
Put her in chains! She rages! Bind her then!
KRIEMHILD (_draws out the girdle_).
Know'st thou this girdle?
BRUNHILDA.
Well I do. 'Tis mine.
And since I see it in a stranger's hands
It must be that 'twas stolen in the night.
KRIEMHILD.
'Twas stolen! 'Twas no thief that gave it me!
BRUNHILDA.
Who then?
KRIEMHILD.
The man who overpowered thee!
But not my brother!
BRUNHILDA.
Kriemhild!
KRIEMHILD.
Thy fierce strength
Had surely strangled Gunther, then perchance
Thou would'st have loved the dead as punishment.
My husband gave it me!
BRUNHILDA.
'Tis false!
KRIEMHILD.
'Tis true!
Now scorn him if thou canst! Wilt now consent
That I may pass before thee through the door?
(_To her women._)
Now follow. She shall see me prove my rights!
[_They leave and enter the cathedral._]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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