"Ah!" he exclaimed. "Here is just one more little crack. But through it I can see the gleam of the goddess's lovely eyes. You must place the Ring here to make the ransom complete."
"Never!" cried Wotan furiously.
"Very well, then. We shall be forced to take the goddess with us."
And once more Fasolt laid his rude hands upon the shrinking maiden.
Thereupon a great tumult began. The voices of the gods rose in entreaty to Wotan to give up the Ring and save their sister and themselves. Thor sprang forward with uplifted hammer, while the hoarse voices of the giants bade defiance to them all. Again the dread mist crept up from the valleys, and darkness descended from the clouds. Still Wotan remained defiant. He was turning away in anger from the tumult, when out of a cleft in the rock a weird bluish light broke forth, and there emerged a woman of dignified and noble mien. Her long black hair swept upon the ground, and her flowing robe seemed made of all the leaves and growing things of the soil. She was Erda, the spirit of Mother-Earth, gifted with wisdom and foresight such as was not given even to the gods themselves.
Erda stretched her hand out warningly toward Wotan.
"Yield, O Wotan!" she cried. "Escape the curse of the Ring, and all the hopeless woe it entails!"
"Who art thou, boding spirit?" demanded Wotan. And in a chanting voice came back the reply:
"All that was I know,
All that is I know,
All that ever shall be done,
This as well I know.
Erda the name I bear,
The Fates my daughters are,
Danger threatens dire,
This has drawn me near;
Hearken! hearken! hearken!
All that is shall end.
Heed ye well, ere dawn of doom,—
Beware the cursed Ring!"
As the chant ended, the bluish light died away and with it vanished the warning figure.