'Tis well, the choice is fitting, and there gapes A hollow tree. I'll take it for myself. For all my life have I been used to that, And I know nothing better than at night On soft dry wood to lay my weary head, And so to dream, half waking, half asleep, To count the passing hours by the birds That waken slowly, softly, one by one, Each singing in his turn. Then tick, tick, tick! Now it is two. Tock, tock, and one must stretch! Kiwitt, kiwitt! The sun is blinking now, And now its eyes are open. Chanticleer Bids all arise, lest they should sneeze. VOLKER. I know! It is as if Time wakened them himself, As in the dark he feels his way along, To beat the rhythm of his pace for him. In measured intervals, as from the glass Trickles the sand, and as the shadow long Creeps on the dial, so there follow now The mountain cock, the blackbird and the thrush, And none disturbs the other as by day, Nor coaxes him to warble ere his time. I've watched it oft myself. SIEGFRIED. I too.--My brother, Thou art not happy. GUNTHER. But I am! SIEGFRIED. Oh, no! I have seen people at a wedding feast, And following a bier, and so I know How different they look. Now let us do As strangers might, who'd never met before Until by accident within the wood They meet, and one has this, the other that, And so they put together all they have, And thus with joy receive and also give. 'Tis well! For I bring meat of every kind, And I will give to you a mountain bull, Five boars and thirty, even forty stags, And pheasants too, as many as you will, Not mentioning the lion and the bear, All this for one small beaker of cool wine. DANKWART. Alas! SIEGFRIED. What's Wrong? HAGEN. The wine has been forgotten. SIEGFRIED. Yes, I'll believe it. That may well befall A hunter who is resting from the chase And has a red hot coal for his own tongue Inside his mouth. Well, I must seek myself, Although I cannot scent it like a, hound-- But let it be--I'll never spoil your sport! [_He seeks._] There is none here, nor here! Where is the cask? I pray thee, minstrel, save me, else I'll lose The tongue that has till now been wagging so. HAGEN. And that may happen, for--there is no wine. SIEGFRIED. The devil and his fiends may take your hunt If I am not to have a hunter's fare! Whose duty was it to provide the drink? HAGEN. Mine! Yet I did not know where we should be, [Illustration: Schnorr von Carolsfeld KRIEMHILD FINDS THE SLAIN SIEGFRIED] And sent the wine to Spessart, where it seems There are no thirsty men. SIEGFRIED. Give thanks who will! But have we then no water? Must a man Be satisfied with evening dew, and lap The drops from off the leaves? HAGEN. But hold thy tongue! Thine ear will bring thee comfort! SIEGFRIED (_listens_).