By analysis, we discover in it one of the Siegfried-motifs,
the horn-call, but grown so robust and weighty, so firm, strong,
commanding, that it hardly more than reminds us of the youthful
Lock-weise, fluttering forth hopefully to find a "dear companion."
The dear companion has long been found. Hard upon this motif of the
grown-up Siegfried comes a wholly new motif, the motif of Bruennhilde
Wedded, wonderful for its entwining tenderness, yet the elevation
it combines with its immensely feminine quality. It is given over
and over; the instruments pass it from one to the other, like a
watchword.

The two thus announced come forth into the sunrise from their chamber
in the rock, Siegfried full-armed, Bruennhilde leading Grane. They
are glorious in this scene of parting. A nobler passion we do not
remember hearing expressed than animates them and the music which
interprets their being. It is all a little more than life-size.

"To new exploits, beloved hero, how poor were my love, did I not
let you go! One single care restrains me, fear of the insufficiency
of all I could bestow. What I learned from the gods I have given
you, a rich treasury of holy runes, but the maidenly staff of my
strength the hero took from me, before whom I now bow. Despoiled
of wisdom, though filled with desire to serve; rich in love, but
devoid of power, oh, despise not the poor lover who can only wish
you, not give you, more!"

But not all the wisdom of the Wala's daughter, not the rich treasury
of runes, have availed to change Siegfried from his big incurable
simplicity,--as his answer in effect declares: "More did you give
me, wonder-woman, than I have capacity to retain! Be not angry that
your teaching should have left me still untaught. One knowledge
there is which I, none the less, hold fast: that Bruennhilde lives
and is mine; one lesson I learned with ease: to think ever of
Bruennhilde!"

The gift she asks of his love is that he shall think of himself,
think of his great deeds, increase his glory. He bestows on her
in leaving the Ring, in which the virtue is condensed of all great
deeds he ever did. In exchange she gives him Grane. After offering
each other, in their great mood, the consolation that to part is
for them not to be parted, for where he goes there in very truth
goes she, and where she remains there does he too abide, they call
upon the gods to feed their eyes upon the dedicated pair they are,
and with jubilant appellations