RUDOLPH-- (_Moving his hand horizontally._)
This way, yes;
But that way?
(_Pointing up._)
No. He dare not face the light
That father Woden pours upon the peaks.
Under Valhalla's eaves the dark elf died
When the dawn smote him; so the dragon there.
His paws would break off on the mountain sides.
FRITZ--We will stay here and cut them off.
RUDOLPH-- Those paws?
Those huge, red, century-scarred paws? With what?
FRITZ--They want our woods and crofts, that's what they want.
RUDOLPH--The Saxon sword is broken. The great shield
That covered all the North lies in the loam
Rusting, and the wild-flowers eat its stains.
Where are our fathers, Fritz? Heimdall, who sees
All races, sees not anywhere that race
That stood at bay when Swabian went down,
Frank and Bavarian and the great North fell.
A paw was put upon its breast and lo,
It is scattered, blood and bones and heart and brain!
Its hand is here; its heart is in the north;
Its head far off an island in the sea;
Its blood is everywhere, in grass, in leaves;
Its flesh still fronts the dragon in these trees.