Rudolph—Can you or I or chief hasten the day
Wherein Val-father's voice shall wake the North?
What man can say unto the lightning, "Leap"?
Of Woden's race, a million summer leaves,
We are, as it were, the winter mistletoe,
A lone green sprig with barren woods all round.
Can we shake off the snow and say, "Appear,"
To the young race asleep within the trees?
Cry out above the dragon winter, "Die"?
You cannot hurry in its growth one leaf.
Yet you would thrust a sword in Oswald's hands,
Thinking to hurry Prophesy along.
If naked strength can save us, why not chief's?
Why Oswald, if the battle is to be now?
Without the aid of Woden, he is naught.
Fritz—Without it, naught, and with it, everything.
Rudolph—Val-father calls to-day then?
Fritz— Wiglaf's ears
Are where the whispers of the dead go by.
Rudolph—Heard he the word, "to-day"?
Fritz— And Wiglaf's eyes
Blazed glee-fire and his lips spake Woden's word:
"In him shall be the strength of all your dead."
Rudolph—In Oswald?
Fritz— In the seed of Wittikind.
"The seed of Wittikind shall put forth a sprout
Shall make the whole North green."
Rudolph— The "seed" of.
Fritz— Yes.