autiful and dramatic. Every phrase given to Fricka proclaims her
queenly and overbearing, with right and power on her side, and
relentless determination to use them. Then there is the Valkyries'
war-whoop--well known from its use in the Valkyries' Ride. Sieglinda has
tender, piteous cries. In the scene of pleading and counter-pleading
between Siegmund and Brunnhilda we have Wagner at the zenith of his
powers: the pleading of the man, the calm, cold majesty of the Valkyrie,
awe and pathos and heroic defiance, are all there. From the technical
point of view, the scene is equal to _Tristan_: the continuous sweep of
the music, with its ever-changing colours and emotions, is almost
supermasterly. The tragedy at the end is a stage rather than a musical
effect, and it is made the more powerful by being delayed so long and
then arriving with such terrific swiftness.

The last act opens on a high hill, where stands the Valkyries' rock, and
amidst thunder, lightning, and rain we get the Ride. Brunnhilda rushes
in to her sisters with Sieglinda, tells what she has done, and begs for
help. All are aghast and refuse. Sieglinda herself asks no aid; Siegmund
is dead, and she has nothing to live for. Brunnhilda tells her she
carries within her the seed of the world's mightiest hero, and in a
moment her mood changes, and she begs to be sheltered. Her ecstatic
outburst is due to a mother's instinctive joy and to the hope of having
someone or something to care for, and no more to be utterly forsaken and
purposeless. The maidens tell her of the dark wood where the dragon
hides, and Brunnhilda, chanting her hymn in praise of the love for which
one surrenders all, gives her the fragments of the sword and bids her
fly, awaiting with undaunted courage her own punishment. The god comes
in bursting with rage, and declares that Brunnhilda shall be left on the
mountain to wed the first man who finds her. The other maidens fly in
horror; she alone remains to make an appeal to Wotan, as Siegmund had
appealed to her. At first he is obdurate, but she begs him to spare her
that frightful disgrace, and to surround her with a wall of fire through
which only a great hero will dare to pass. He yields, taking her
godhood, her limited immortality, away from her, putting her to sleep,
calling up the fire, and swearing that only a hero who has no fear of
his spear shall pass through, and so the drama ends. Wotan has
definitely renounced love. The moment at which