[He springs up and walks about the scene.
Why do I slumber? Why delay a moment
To keep my oath? Ha, cruel, cruel destiny!
E’en death itself thou dost refuse to Hother,
For every sword and precipice thou hidest;
Ha, feeble spear! whereon I, fool-like, trusted,
Where art thou now? and thou my fragile Mimring
Ne’er frail in fight before; and thou my dagger—
[He stumbles over the horn which he cast away in the first act.
What, what is this? By Hal, the horn which Vanfred
Gave me wherewith in time of need to call him.
Ha! by the gods, was ever need so horrid,
To crave to die, yet want the power of dying;
Friendship so warm as his will never surely
Refuse a dagger to this breast.
[He winds the horn, which echoes frightfully among the rocks.
Ha, Vanfred!
I call thee now; where art thou, Vanfred? Vanfred!
[A whirlwind is heard, and LOKE immediately appears.
LOKE, HOTHER.
LOKE. Hail, hail to thee, most fortunate of heroes!
HOTHER. Ha! darest thou mock Hother?