Siegfried, I embrace thee still,
And the wrath of gods dismays not!
Ah, they pitied not my pain!
Merciless, they saw thee slain,—
Smiling though the cruel dart
Pierced my heart,—
But with glory none shall dim
Thou hast passed the dreaded portal,
And I bless the will of Him
Who, in anger, made me mortal!
I shall rest when Odin, late,
Mourns forlorn Brünnhilde's fate:
Mourns her truth, dishonor made—
Faith betrayed;
For the Nornen ne'er forget;
In their awful hands they hold him,
And as my spent sun shall set,
Glooms eternal shall infold him.
Changeless guardians who keep
Watch and ward, shall give me sleep,
When hot tears—not mine—are shed
For thee, my dead!
When thy foes in vain repent,
Hopeless, for thy ruin languish,
When Valhalla's towers are rent
In remembrance of my anguish!
