im sing further undisturbed. Sing!" Slyly smiling he makes sign
to Walther, "Sing, in Master Marker's despite!"

Walther springs to the singing-chair, but the masters cry in a
voice, "An end! An end!" Walther, undaunted, climbs to his feet
upon the very seat of the sacred chair, from which he commands
the assembly by half his height and haughtily looks down upon it.
And he sings with all his lungs and all his fire to make himself
heard above the hubbub; he sings, determined to impose the impress
of himself upon their minds, will they or not; and his tenor pierces
through and floats over the snarling chorus of objection; and he
sings his song, in spite of them all, to the very end. "From the
dark thorn-hedge rustles forth the owl, and by his hooting rouses
the hoarse choir of the ravens; in night-black swarm they gather,
and croak aloud with their hollow voices, magpies, crows, and daws!
But thereupon soars upward on a pair of golden wings, wonderful,
a Bird: his clearly-shining plumage gleams bright aloft in the
air, rapturously he soars hither and thither, inviting me to join
him in flight. My heart expands with a delicious pain, my longing
to fly creates wings. I swing myself heavenward in daring flight,
away from that death-vault, the city, away to the hills of home;
thence to the green forest, meeting-place of birds, where long
ago Walther, the Poet, won my allegiance. There sing I clear and
loud the praise of my dearest lady, there mounts upward, little
as Master Crows may relish it, the proud canticle of love!"

All this while the confusion of voices has not ceased or diminished.
Beckmesser has been heatedly, in support of his chalk-marks, going
over Walther's literary misdemeanours: Defective versification,
unpronounceable words, misplaced rhymes, etc. etc. The masters
have been vociferously criticising and rejecting the new-comer.
Pogner has looked on and taken no part, a dejected spectator. He
is sorry to see the Knight defeated, and he says to himself that
he knows he will regret his toleration of this high-handedness of
the masters. For the natural thought has risen in his mind that
it would be agreeable to have this fine fellow received in the
guild, and subsequently into his family as son-in-law. Upon which
thought naturally follows the other: "The victor whom I now must
fall back upon, who knows if my child will care for him? I confess
to a degree of uneasiness as to whether Eva will choose that master!"