Thou see'st, my kin will clear me when I will,
'Tis needless that I now approach the bier,
Yet will I stand there and will be the first!
[He walks slowly to the bier.]
UTE.
Oh Kriemhild, do not look.
KRIEMHILD.
Perchance he lives!
My Siegfried! Had he strength to speak one word
Or gaze but once upon me!
UTE.
My poor child,
It is but nature, moving once again.
Ghastly enough!
CHAPLAIN.
It is the hand of God,
That softly stirs once more these sacred springs
Because He must inscribe the sign of Cain.