d he threatened me,
But heavy was thy sleep. Thou should'st not hear
What fate awaits thee if thou dost persist.
So offer sacrifice and then be free.
Oh, had I paid no heed unto the priest,
Howe'er he urged me! But the sacred runes
I had not read aright.--Come, sacrifice,
For danger cometh nigh.

BRUNHILDA.

'Tis nigh?

FRIGGA.

Alas!
Thou knowest that the fiery sea is quenched
That flamed around thy castle.
BRUNHILDA. Yet the knight
Still lingers who should wield the magic sword
And on his war-horse gallop through the flames,
When he had won proud Fafner's ill-starred hoard.

FRIGGA.

I may have erred. But yet this second sign
Cannot deceive me, for I long have known
That when the fateful hour shall come to thee,
Clear vision doth await thee. Sacrifice!
Mayhap the ancient gods surround thee now
Invisibly, and they will straight appear
With the first blood-drops of thine offering.

BRUNHILDA.

I do not fear.

[_Trumpets are heard._]

FRIGGA.

The trumpets!

BRUNHILDA.

Hast thou ne'er
Heard them before.

FRIGGA.

Never before with dread.
The time for lopping thistle-heads is past,
And iron helms arise before thee now.

BRUNHILDA.

Come hither all! For I will let her see
Brunhilda still can conquer! While the sea
Of fire still flamed I hastened forth to meet ye,
And friendly, as a trusty dog will spring
To give his master room, my faithful fire
Drew back before me, sank on either hand;
The road stands open now, but not my heart.
[_She ascends her throne._]
Now fling the portals wide and let them in!
Whoever here may come, his head is mine!

SCENE II

_The gates are opened. Enter SIEGFRIED, GUNTHER, HAGEN and VOLKER_

BRUNHILDA.

Who cometh seeking death?

(_To SIEGFRIED._)

Ah! Is it thou?

SIEGFRIED.

I am not seeking death, nor will I sue.
And too much honor dost thou yield to me
In greeting Gunther's guide before himself,
For I am but his helper.

BRUNHILDA (_turning to GUNTHER_).

Then 'tis thou?
And know'st thou what is toward?

GUNTHER.

Full well I know!

SIEGFRIED.

The rumor of thy beauty spreads abroad,
But further still the fame of thy hard heart.
And who hath gazed but once in thy deep eyes
Will nevermore forget, e'en in his cups,
That dreadful death beside thee always stands.

BRUNHILDA.

Tis tru