f fire. The hour is at hand when the spear must offer
itself to be braved by this incarnate courage bent upon that same
adventure,--when Wotan must take the chances of discovering that
this boy is freer than he--the god. He had declared himself but a
moment ago, in his communication with Erda, willing to yield his
supremacy to the Eternally Young One. Actually to do it must be a
little bitter, after enduring that Young One's cavalier treatment.
Perhaps--the text admits of the interpretation,--Wotan is sincerely
angry; at Siegfried's impertinence he has changed his mind in respect
to yielding his throne to him, and with a real intention of driving
him back from the rock describes the terrors of the mountain: "A
sea of fire surges around the woman; hot flames lick the rock;
the conflagration rages against him who would push through to the
bride. Look up toward the heights! Do you see not the light?...
It is waxing in brightness.... Scorching clouds, wavering flames,
roaring and crackling, stream down toward us. A sea of light shines
about your head, Soon the fire will catch and devour you.... Then,
back! mad child!" "Back yourself, you braggart!" cries Siegfried,
nothing deterred; "up there where the flames flicker, I must hasten
to Bruennhilde!" He is about to push past, when Wotan holds his
spear across the path: "If the fire does not frighten you, my spear
shall stop your way. My hand still holds the staff of sovereignty.
The sword which you swing was once shattered against this shaft,
again let it snap on the eternal spear!" Instead of appalling him,
the majestic threat creates in Siegfried eagerness and glee: "My
father's enemy! Do I find you here? Excellently this happens for
my revenge! Swing your spear! With my sword I will split it to
pieces!" And he immediately does as he has said. Nothing, it seems,
not the spear of the law, can stand against the sword of perfect
courage. A clap of thunder accompanies the sundering of the spear.
The broken pieces roll at the Wanderer's feet. He picks them quietly
up. With godlike calm, the hour having struck, he accepts inevitable
fate. The motif of downfall points this beginning of the end of the
gods. "Go your way! I cannot hold you!" He vanishes in darkness.

"With broken weapon the coward has fled?" says Siegfried, looking
about for his father's enemy. The magic fire, as if to force the
intruder back, has been pouring further and further down the
mountain-side. But the one