His gods and goddesses are taken, with very few changes, directly from their original place—the Teutonic mythology. His giants and dwarfs are also unaltered as complete races. In his usage of them he differs in some respects from the older stories. Fafnir, the son of Rodmar, becomes the giant Fafner, and his brother Fasolt is added. Regin is transformed into Mime, the master-smith. Instead of Otter, who must be covered by gems, we have the love goddess Friea, and instead of the hair which the Ring must cover in the old legend, it is in Wagner’s adaptation one of Friea’s beautiful eyes. Fafner hides in Hate Hole instead of upon Glistenheath, and is killed by Siegfried instead of Sigurd. The lonely Walküres’ Rock takes the place of the house on the hill, and instead of being made invulnerable by the Dragon’s blood, Siegfried is protected by Brünnhilde’s spells—a fancy which seems more poetic and beautiful, but which originates, I believe, entirely with Wagner. Gutrune takes the place of Kreimhild, and Hagan is not Gunther’s vassal, but his half-brother. These are, after all, apparently slight changes, yet to Wagner’s cycle a new poetry seems to have come. The barbaric aspects of the tale have faded, and all the simple beauty of those wild, noble gods and demi-gods has gleamed forth as gloriously as the wonderful Rhinegold, which the master has made next in importance to the gods and the dusk of their splendor. Before going further, perhaps it might be well to say a few words of explanation as to the motifs which form the key-notes of Wagner’s great musical dramas. When he set his poem of the Nibelungen Ring to music, he was not satisfied with merely beautiful airs and harmonies linked together with no purpose save the lovely sounds. He wished, above all, to have his music fit his words; and for every character and thought and incident, and indeed for almost everything in his operas, he wrote a melody, and these descriptive musical phrases are called _motifs_. Each one has its meaning, and when it is played it brings the thought of what it describes and represents, and it makes a double language—what the characters on the stage are saying and what the music is saying, as well. Through the motifs we understand many things which we could not possibly comprehend otherwise.