The Rhinegold & The Valkyrie. The Ring of the Niblung, part 1. Рихард Вагнер
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keep by cunning
The wonderful work,
Though all his skill
Came alone from my craft.
Thou art discovered, thief.
[He puts the Tarnhelm on his head.
The helmet fits the head;
But will the spell prosper too?
[Very softly.
"Night and darkness,
Seen of none!"
[He vanishes, and a pillar of cloud takes his place.
Brother, canst see me?
MIME [Looks round in amaze.
Where art thou? I see no one.
ALBERICH [Invisible.
Then feel me instead,
Thou lazy scamp!
Take that for thy thievish thoughts!
MIME
[Writhes under the lathes he receives, the sound of which is heard without the whip being seen.
Ohé! Ohé!
Oh! Oh! Oh!
ALBERICH [Invisible and laughing.
Ha! ha! ha!
Ha! ha! ha!
I thank thee, blockhead;
Thy work has stood the test.
Hoho! Hoho!
Nibelungs all
Bow now to Alberich!
For he is everywhere,
Waiting and watching;
Peace and rest
Are past for ever;
Ye must all serve him,
Though see him can none;
Where he cannot be spied
Look out for his coming;
None shall escape from his thraldom!
[Harshly.
Hoho! hoho!
Hearken, he nears:
The Nibelung's lord!
[The pillar of cloud disappears in the background. Alberich's scolding voice is heard more and more faintly. Mime lies huddled up in pain. Wotan and Loge come down through a cleft in the rock.
LOGE
Nibelheim here.
Through pale mists gleaming,
How bright yonder fiery sparks glimmer!
MIME
Oh! Oh! Oh!
WOTAN
I hear loud groans.
Who lies on the ground?
Mime writhes under the lashes he receives.
LOGE [Bends over Mime.
Why all this whimpering noise?
MIME
Ohé! Ohé!
Oh! Oh!
LOGE
Hei, Mime! Merry dwarf!
Who beats and bullies thee so?
MIME
Leave me in peace, pray.
LOGE
So much is certain,
And more still. Hark!
Help I promise thee, Mime!
[He raises him with difficulty.
MIME
What help for me?
To do his bidding
My brother can force me,
For I am bound as his slave.
LOGE
But, Mime, how has he
Thus made thee his thrall?
MIME
By evil arts
Fashioned Alberich
A yellow ring,
From the Rhinegold forged,
At whose mighty magic
Trembling we marvel;
This spell puts in his power
The Nibelung hosts of night.
Happy we smiths
Moulded and hammered,
Making our women
Trinkets to wear—
Exquisite Nibelung toys—
And lightly laughed at our toil.
The rogue now compels us
To creep into caverns,
For him alone
To labour unthanked.
Through the golden ring
His greed can divine
Where untouched treasure
In hidden gorge gleams.
We still must keep spying,
Peering and delving:
Must melt the booty,
Which, molten, we forge
Without pause or peace,
To heap up higher his hoard.
LOGE
Just now, then, an idler
Roused him to wrath?
MIME
Poor Mime, ah!
My lot was the hardest.
I had to work,
Forging a helmet,
With strict instructions
How to contrive it;
And well I marked
The wondrous might
Bestowed by the helm
That from steel I wrought.
Hence I had gladly
Held it as mine,
And, by its virtue
Risen at last in revolt:
Perchance, yes, perchance
The master himself I had mastered,
And, he in my power, had wrested
The ring from him and used it
That he might serve me, the free man,
[Harshly
As now I must serve him, a slave!
LOGE
And wherefore, wise one,
Sped