Thy tears insult me sore, and yet--I know not--
They gladden me--they torture--they enchant me.
I love them--I excuse them--I--I know not--
O tear--sweet, bitter tear, desist from flowing!
Thou showest tenderness--but ah! betrayest
Mistrust and slight respect!--ah, love thy Hother,
But oh! believe, he will deserve thee, Nanna:
Thy heart is far too noble for the coward
Who beareth shield and sword and yet can tremble.

HOTHER. The slave only feareth.

NANNA. The hero can fall!

HOTHER. Ah then his fame cheereth
His bride in her thrall.

NANNA. Ah then his bride weeps!

HOTHER. She's honour'd.

NANNA. She weepeth!

HOTHER. She's honour'd.

NANNA. And weepeth.

HOTHER. Ah, then his fame cheereth
His bride in her thrall.