Yet warm blood
Shall flow thereby!
Now sweat once again,
That swift I may weld thee,
Nothung, conquering sword!
[He thrusts the steel into the fire, and blows the bellows violently. While doing so he watches Mime, who, from the other side of the hearth, carefully puts his pot on the fire.
What does the booby
Make in his pot?
While I melt steel,
What art thou brewing?
MIME
A smith is put to shame,
And learns from the lad he taught;
All the master's lore is useless now;
He serves the boy as cook.
Steel thou dost brew into broth;
Old Mime boils thee
Eggs for thy meal.
[He goes on with his cooking.
SIEGFRIED
Mime, the craftsman,
Learns to cook now,
And cares no longer to forge;
I have broken
All the swords that he made me;
What he cooks my lips shall not touch.
[During the following he takes the mould from the fire, breaks it, and lays the glowing steel on the anvil.
To find out what fear is
Forth he will guide me;
A far-off teacher shall teach me;
Even what he does best
He cannot do well;
In everything Mime must bungle!
[During the forging.
Hoho! Hoho! Hohei!
Forge me, my hammer,
A trusty sword.
Hoho! Hahei!
Hoho! Hahei!
Blood-stained was once
Thy steely blue,
The crimson trickle
Reddened thy blade.
How cold was thy laugh!
The warm blood cooled at thy touch!
Heiaho! Haha!
Haheiaha!
Now red thou comest
From the fire,
And thy softened steel
To the hammer yields.
Angry sparks thou dost shower
On me who humbled thy pride.
Heiaho! Heiaho!
Heiahohohohoho!
Hahei! Hahei! Hahei!
Hoho! Hoho! Hohei!
Forge me, my hammer,
A trusty sword!
Hoho! Hahei!
Hoho! Hahei!
How I rejoice
In the merry sparks!
The bold look best
When by anger stirred!
Gay thou laughest to me,
Grimly though thou dost pretend!
Heiaho, haha, haheiaha!
Both heat and hammer
Served me well;
With sturdy strokes
I stretched thee straight;
Now banish thy modest blush,
Be as cold and hard as thou canst.
Heiho! Heiaho!
Heiahohohohoho! Heiah!
[He swings the blade, plunges it into the pail of water, and laughs aloud at the hissing.
MIME
[While Siegfried is fixing the blade in the hilt, moves about in the foreground with the bottle into which he has poured the contents of the pot. Aside.
He forges a sharp-edged sword:
Fafner, the foe
Of the dwarf, is doomed;
I brewed a deadly draught:
Siegfried must perish
When Fafner falls.