Wotan, Siegfried, and Brünnhilde . ght maiden of the clouds, as wesee her in the second act of The Walkure,without instinctively repeating the words of thepoet— The good stars met in your horoscope,Made you of spirit, fire, and dew. Not the least of her charms is her unconscious-ness. The simplicity of a child or a bird is only knows one dominating purpose, herfathers will, and her emotions are governed andcaused by the elements of which she is the god-child. She is the possessor of a wonderful heritage,though she does not recognize it. In her brain isall the knowledge of ages—all the
Wotan, Siegfried, and Brünnhilde . ght maiden of the clouds, as wesee her in the second act of The Walkure,without instinctively repeating the words of thepoet— The good stars met in your horoscope,Made you of spirit, fire, and dew. Not the least of her charms is her unconscious-ness. The simplicity of a child or a bird is only knows one dominating purpose, herfathers will, and her emotions are governed andcaused by the elements of which she is the god-child. She is the possessor of a wonderful heritage,though she does not recognize it. In her brain isall the knowledge of ages—all the wisdom thathas been the result of Erdas centuries of dream-7 98 B runn hilde mg In her heart is all the noble dauntlessnessand passion, all the fire and the divinity, of Wotanand the race of the gods. In her soul are num-berless embryo possibilities—perfections someday to be realized. Yet she does not know. The following musical phrase—the Walkurescall—is wonderfully descriptive of the wild free-dom which it represents:. It is the shout, sometimes throbbing with joy,sometimes pulsing with the excitement of war,that the Walkures sang when they sped throughthe clouds. If we close our eyes as we hear it,we will seem to see a mail-clad warrior goddessmounted on a wild wind-horse, galloping upwardover the storm-clouds into the purple blaze of thelightning, her voice vibrating with fierce joy asshe calls, clear and long through the distance: Briinnhilde 99 Hoyotoho ! Hoyotoho ! Ho—ho-6! Or perhapsthe swinging measure may bring to us a flash ofsunshine on valleys far below,—a sweep of daz-zling white clouds shifting under the rush of thosewinged hoofs, a bank of mist, rose-flushed bymorning. Or it may be that a vision will comeof long, crimson lines of glory, wide floods of gold,—all the passion and splendor of sunset, whenthe call sounds longer, more thrilling, and morereplete with the magic of dusk. But whateverthe picture, there will always be the upturnedface glo
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890, booksubjectwagnerrichard1813188
