[Comes forward anxious and wondering to Wotan, who leaning back on his rocky seat, is brooding gloomily.
Ill closed
The fight, I fear;
Fricka laughs at the outcome!
Father, what news
Hast thou to tell me?
Sad thou seemest and troubled!
WOTAN [Dropping his arm helplessly and sinking his head on his breast.
By self-forged fetters
I am bound,
I, least free of all living!
BRÜNNHILDE
I know thee not thus:
What gnaws at thy heart?
WOTAN
[His expression and gestures working up, from this point, to a fearful outburst.
O sacrilege vile!
O grievous affront!
Gods' despair!
Gods' despair!
Infinite wrath!
Woe without end!
Most sorrowful I of all living!
BRÜNNHILDE
[Alarmed, throws her shield, spear and helmet from her and kneels with anxious affection at his feet.
Father! Father!
Tell me what ails thee?
With dismay thou art filling thy child!
Confide in me
For I am true;
See, Brünnhilde begs it!
[She lays her head and hands with tender anxiety on his knees and breast.
WOTAN
[Looks long in her eyes, then strokes her hair with involuntary tenderness. As if coming out of a deep reverie, he at last begins, very softly.
What if, when uttered,
Weaker it made
The controlling might of my will?
BRÜNNHILDE [Very softly.
To Wotan's will thou speakest
When thou speakest to me?
What am I
If I am not thy will?