Though courage she bestowed,
I have no cause to thank her
For falling under thy spell;
Soon old, wan and pale,
Hating the happy,
Where is my joy?
ALBERICH [As before.
Hagen, my son,
Hate thou the happy;
This joyless and
Sorrow-laden one,
Him alone thou shalt love.
Be thou strong
And bold and wise!
Those whom with weapons
Of darkness we fight
Already our hate has dismayed.
And he who captured my ring,
Wotan, the ravening robber,
By one of his sons
In fight has been vanquished;
He has lost
Through the Wälsung power and might.
With the whole immortal race
He awaits in anguish his downfall.
Him I fear no more:
He and all his must perish!
Hagen, son, art asleep?
HAGEN
[Remains motionless as before.
The might of the Gods
Who then shall wield?
ALBERICH
I—and thou!
The world we shall own,
If in thy truth
I rightly trust,
Sharest thou my hate and wrath.
Wotan's spear
Was splintered by Siegfried,
The hero who won
As booty the ring
When Fafner, the dragon, he slew.
Power supreme
He has attained to;