Must I leave thee, O love,
In thy holy fortress of fire,
[He has taken Alberich's ring from his finger, and holds it out to Brünnhilde.
This ring of mine I give thee;
Let it pay for thy runes.
Of whatever deeds I did
The virtue lies therein.
By my hand was the dragon grim,
Who long had guarded it, slain;
Keep thou the gold and its might
As token true of my love!
BRÜNNHILDE
[Putting on the ring in rapturous delight.
I covet it more than all else!
For the ring take Grane, my horse.
Through the air with me
He galloped once boldly,
But lost with mine
Was his magic art;
Upon clouds and storm,
Through thunder and lightning
No more
Gallantly now will he sweep!
But if thou lead the way,
Even through fire
Fearlessly Grane will follow.
For henceforth, hero,
Thou art his master!
Entreat him well;
He knows thy voice;
O, greet him often
In Brünnhilde's name!
SIEGFRIED
Then every deed that I dare
Will be achieved through thy virtue
All my battles thou wilt choose,
And my victories will be thine.
Upon thy good horse riding,
And sheltered by thy shield,
No longer Siegfried am I,
But only Brünnhilde's arm!