"Now Wotan's magic spear is splintered.

"Oh! How this gold has tangled all my threads!" she wailed.

Her long, gaunt fingers pulled and worked at the knots, but all in vain.

She could not straighten out the snarls.

"Sing, oh, my Sister, sing!" she cried. "You know what the end will be."

And she tossed the snarled threads to the third Norn.


A SONG OF THE FUTURE

The third Norn took up the thread.

Twisting and untying, she sang of the future.

She sang of the downfall of the giants.

She sang of the time when Wotan and his family would be no more, and
bright Valhalla's halls would be only a ruin.

"But, Sisters, look!" she cried. "The day is dawning. We must make
haste!"

She tugged at the thread. The knots grew tighter.