The Rhinegold & The Valkyrie. The Ring of the Niblung, part 1. Рихард Вагнер

tell us how.

      LOGE

      By theft!

      What a thief stole

      Steal thou from the thief;

      How better could object be won?

      But with baleful arms

      Battles Alberich.

      Wary, wise

      Must be thy scheming,

      If the thief thou wouldst confound,

      [With warmth.

      And restore the ruddy

      And golden toy,

      The Rhinegold, to the maidens.

      For this they pray and implore.

      WOTAN

      The river-maidens?

      What profit were mine?

      FRICKA

      Of that billow-born brood

      Bring me no tidings,

      For they have wooed

      To my woe

      Full many a man to their caves.

      [Wotan stands silent, struggling with himself. The other Gods gaze at him in mute suspense. Fafner, meanwhile, has been consulting aside with Fasolt.

      FAFNER [To Fasolt

      Worth far more than Freia

      Were the glittering gold.

      Eternal youth, too, were his

      Who could use the charm in its quest.

      [Fasolt's gestures indicate that he is being convinced against his will. Fafner and Fasolt approach Wotan again.

      FAFNER

      Hear, Wotan,

      Our word while we wait;

      Freia we will restore you,

      And will take

      Paltrier payment:

      The Niblung's red-gleaming gold

      Will guerdon us giants rude.

      WOTAN

      Ye must be mad!

      With what I possess not

      How can I, shameless ones, pay you?

      FAFNER

      Hard labour

      Went to those walls;

      How easy

      With fraud-aided force

      (What our malice never achieved)

      The Niblung to break and bind!

      Fasolt suddenly seizes Freia and drags her to one side with Fafner

      WOTAN [More quickly.

      Why should I make

      War on the Niblung?—

      Fight, your foe to confound?

      Insolent

      And greedily grasping

      Dolts you grow through my debt!

      FASOLT

      [Suddenly seizes Freia and drags her to one side with Fafner.

      Maiden, come!

      We claim thee ours!

      As pledge thou shalt be held

      Till the ransom is paid.

      FREIA [Screaming.

      Woe's me! Woe's me! Woe!

      FAFNER

      From your midst

      We bear her forth!

      Till evening—mark it well!—

      As a pledge she is ours.

      We will return then.

      But when we come,

      If the Rhinegold be not ready,

      The Rhinegold bright and red—

      FASOLT

      The respite is ended,

      Freia is forfeit

      And bides among us for aye!

      FREIA

      Sister! Brothers!

      Save me! Help!

      [The giants hasten off, dragging Freia with them.

      FROH

      Up! Follow fast!

      DONNER

      Fall now the heavens!

      [They look inquiringly at Wotan.

      FREIA [In the distance.

      Save me! Help!

      LOGE [Looking after the giants.

      Downward over stock and stone

      Striding they go;

      Through the ford across the Rhine

      Wade now the robbers.

      Sad at heart

      Hangs Freia,

      Thrown rudely over rough shoulders!

      Heia! hei!

      The louts, how they lumber along!

      Through the Rhine valley they reel.

      Not till Riesenheim's march

      Is reached will they rest!

      [He turns to the Gods.

      How darkly Wotan doth dream!

      What ails the high, happy Gods?

      [A pale mist, gradually increasing in density, fills the stage. Seen through it the Gods look more and more wan and aged. All stand in dismay and apprehension regarding Wotan, whose eyes are fixed broodingly on the ground.

      LOGE

      Does a mist mock me?

      Tricks me a dream?

      Dismayed and wan,

      How swiftly ye fade!

      Lo! the bloom forsakes your cheeks,

      And quenched is the light of your eyes!

      Courage, Froh!

      Day's but begun!

      From thy hand, Donner,

      The hammer is falling!

      And why frets Fricka?

      Sees she with sorrow

      That Wotan's hair, growing grey,

      Has made him gloomy and old?

      FRICKA

      Woe's me! Woe's me!

      What does it mean?

      The Gods grow wan and aged at the loss of Freia.

      DONNER

      My