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Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2. Рихард ВагнерЧитать онлайн книгу.

Siegfried & The Twilight of the Gods. The Ring of the Niblung, part 2 - Рихард Вагнер


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flood of fire;

      Furious with hate,

      Grimly it hissed;

      Though scorching it ran,

      In the cooling flood

      No more it flows;

      Stiff, stark it became,

      Hard is the stubborn steel;

      Yet warm blood

      Shall flow thereby!

      Now sweat once again,

      That swift I may weld thee,

      Nothung, conquering sword!

      [He thrusts the steel into the fire, and blows the bellows violently. While doing so he watches Mime, who, from the other side of the hearth, carefully puts his pot on the fire.

      What does the booby

      Make in his pot?

      While I melt steel,

      What art thou brewing?

      MIME

      A smith is put to shame,

      And learns from the lad he taught;

      All the master's lore is useless now;

      He serves the boy as cook.

      Steel thou dost brew into broth;

      Old Mime boils thee

      Eggs for thy meal.

      [He goes on with his cooking.

      SIEGFRIED

      Mime, the craftsman,

      Learns to cook now,

      And cares no longer to forge;

      I have broken

      All the swords that he made me;

      What he cooks my lips shall not touch.

      [During the following he takes the mould from the fire, breaks it, and lays the glowing steel on the anvil.

      To find out what fear is

      Forth he will guide me;

      A far-off teacher shall teach me;

      Even what he does best

      He cannot do well;

      In everything Mime must bungle!

      [During the forging.

      Hoho! Hoho! Hohei!

      Forge me, my hammer,

      A trusty sword.

      Hoho! Hahei!

      Hoho! Hahei!

      Blood-stained was once

      Thy steely blue,

      The crimson trickle

      Reddened thy blade.

      How cold was thy laugh!

      The warm blood cooled at thy touch!

      Heiaho! Haha!

      Haheiaha!

      Now red thou comest

      From the fire,

      And thy softened steel

      To the hammer yields.

      Angry sparks thou dost shower

      On me who humbled thy pride.

      Heiaho! Heiaho!

      Heiahohohohoho!

      Hahei! Hahei! Hahei!

      Hoho! Hoho! Hohei!

      Forge me, my hammer,

      A trusty sword!

      Hoho! Hahei!

      Hoho! Hahei!

      How I rejoice

      In the merry sparks!

      The bold look best

      When by anger stirred!

      Gay thou laughest to me,

      Grimly though thou dost pretend!

      Heiaho, haha, haheiaha!

      Both heat and hammer

      Served me well;

      With sturdy strokes

      I stretched thee straight;

      Now banish thy modest blush,

      Be as cold and hard as thou canst.

      Heiho! Heiaho!

      Heiahohohohoho! Heiah!

      [He swings the blade, plunges it into the pail of water, and laughs aloud at the hissing.

      MIME

      [While Siegfried is fixing the blade in the hilt, moves about in the foreground with the bottle into which he has poured the contents of the pot. Aside.

      He forges a sharp-edged sword:

      Fafner, the foe

      Of the dwarf, is doomed;

      I brewed a deadly draught:

      Siegfried must perish

      When Fafner falls.

      By guile the goal must be reached;

      Soon shall smile my reward!

      For the shining ring

      My brother once made,

      And which with a potent

      Spell he endowed,

      The gleaming gold

      That gives boundless might—

      That ring I have won now,

      I am its lord.

      [He trots briskly about with increasing satisfaction.

      Alberich even,

      Whom I served,

      Shall be the slave

      Of Mime the dwarf.

      As Nibelheim's prince

      I shall descend there,

      And all the host

      Shall do my will;

      None so honoured as he,

      The dwarf once despised!

      To the hoard will come thronging

      Gods and men;

      [With increasing liveliness.

      The world shall cower,

      Cowed by my nod,

      And at my frown

      Shall tremble and fall!

      No more shall Mime

      Labour and toil,

      When others win him

      Unending wealth.

      Mime, the valiant,

      Mime is monarch,

      Prince and ruler,

      Lord of the world!

      Hei, Mime! Great luck has been thine!

      Had any one dreamed of this!

      SIEGFRIED

      [During the pauses in Mime's song has been filing and sharpening the sword and hammering it with the small hammer. He flattens the rivets of the hilt with the last strokes, and now grasps the sword.

      Nothung! Nothung!

      Conquering sword!

      Once more art thou firm in thy hilt.

      Severed wert thou;

      I shaped thee anew,

      No second blow thy blade shall shatter.

      The


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