ng,
Towers lie down!
Farewell greatness
And gift of the gods!
End in bliss
Thou unwithering breed!
You, Norns, unravel
The rope of runes!
Darken upwards
Dusk of the gods!
Night of annulment,
Near in thy cloud!--
I stand in sight
Of Siegfried's star;
For me he was
And for me he will be,
Ever and always,
One and all
Lighting love
And laughing death.'

These sentiments are more than echoed by the enamoured Siegfried,
who is beside himself with rapture at the mere thought of
possessing the glorious creature, who has forgotten all her
divine state to become naught but a loving and lovable woman.

[Illustration: SIEGFRIED AND THE RHINE MAIDENS.]

DUSK OF THE GODS.

The Norns, or Northern goddesses of fate, are seen in the dim
light before dawn, busily weaving the web of destiny on the
rocky hillside where the Walkyries formerly held their tryst. As
they twist their rope, which is stretched from north to south,
they sing of the age of gold. Then they sat beneath the great
world-ash, near the limpid well, where Wotan had left an eye
in pledge to win a daily draught of wisdom.

They also sing how the god tore from the mighty ash a limb
which he fashioned into an invincible spear. This caused the
death of the tree, which withered and died in spite of all their
care. The third Norn then continues the tale her sisters have
begun, and tells how Wotan came home with a shivered spear one
day, and bade the gods cut down the tree. Its limbs were piled
like fuel all around Walhalla, the castle which the giants had
built, and since then Wotan has sat there in moody silence,
awaiting the predicted end, which can no longer be far distant.

While they are singing, the barrier of flame in the background
burns brightly, and its light grows pale only as dawn breaks
slowly over the scene. The rope which the Norns are weaving
then suddenly parts beneath their fingers; so they bind the
fragments about them and sink slowly into the ground, to join
their mother Erda, wailing a prophecy concerning the end of
the old heathen world:--

'Away now is our knowledge!
The world meets
From wisdom no more;
Below to Mother, below!'

As they vanish, the day slowly breaks, and Siegfried and
Brunhilde come out of the cave. The former is in full armour
and bears a jewelled shield, the latter leads her horse, Grane,
by the bridle. Tenderly