The German Classics of the Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries - LightNovelsOnl.com
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FRIGGA.
Naught know I!-- No syllable he spoke. The little maid Reached forth her hands and grasped the golden crown That glittered brightly o'er the dead Queen's brow.
We marveled that it fitted her.
BRUNHILDA.
The child?
FRIGGA.
The little maid; and it was none too large, Nor later did it bind her.
BRUNHILDA.
'Twas like mine!
FRIGGA.
Like thine it was! And, yet more wonderful.
The child was like the maid that lay there dead Within the mother's arms and disappeared As had it ne'er existed--yes, so like That only by the breathing could we know The living from the dead. It seemed to us That nature must have formed one body twice, With life for one child only.
BRUNHILDA.
Had the Queen A new-born baby in her arms?
FRIGGA.
Her life She gave to bear her child, and with her died The little maid.
BRUNHILDA.
Thou didst not tell me that.
FRIGGA. I never thought to tell thee. Sorrow broke The mother's heart that she could never show Her baby to her lord. For many years This priceless joy in vain he had desired, And, just a month before the child was born, A sudden death o'ertook him.
BRUNHILDA.
Tell me more!
FRIGGA.
We sought the aged man, but he was gone.
The glowing mountain that had been cleft through As one might split an apple, slowly now Was drawn together there before our eyes.
BRUNHILDA.
The old man came no more?
FRIGGA.
Now hark to me!
Next morning to the grave we bore our Queen; But when the priest was ready to baptize The little maid, his arm fell helpless down, Nor could he touch her forehead with the dew Of holy water, and his good right arm He never lifted more.
BRUNHILDA.
What, never more!
FRIGGA.
The man was old, and so we marveled not.
We called another priest. The holy dew He sprinkled on the child. The blessed words Of benediction halted on his tongue, Nor hath his speech returned.
BRUNHILDA.
And now the third?
FRIGGA.
For him we waited long. We had to seek In other lands afar, where of the tale None knew. At last this priest baptized the child.
His holy office ended, down he fell Upon the ground and nevermore arose!
BRUNHILDA.
And did the baby live
FRIGGA.
She throve apace, And strong she grew. Her playful ways to us Were signs what we should do or leave undone.
They ne'er deceived us, for the runes had said That we might trust them ever.
BRUNHILDA.
Frigga! Frigga!
FRIGGA.
Thou art indeed the maid! Now dost thou know Not in the gloomy caverns of the dead, In Hecla where the ancient G.o.ds still dwell, Among the Norns, among the Valkyries, Seek thou the mother that gave birth to thee!
Oh, that no drop of holy water e'er Had touched thy brow! Then were we wiser far.
BRUNHILDA.
What dost thou murmur?
FRIGGA.
How then did it hap That on this morning we were not in bed, But fully robed had tarried in the hall?
Our teeth were chattering and our lips were blue.
BRUNHILDA.
