memorable Motifs of the Ring, #97, generally known as the “Motif of Bruennhilde’s Magic Sleep”), Bruennhilde is thrown into a panic. She now requests, in her desperation, that Wotan honor himself in preserving her honor, by insuring that only a great hero, not an unworthy man (i.e., only an artist-hero capable of unconscious inspiration, and thus worthy to woo the muse of art, Bruennhilde), wake and win her. She suggests Siegfried, as the greatest scion of the Waelsung race, would be the perfect choice. But Wotan disingenuously disavows all concern with or interest in her future plans, as if he has no stake in it. But of course his spirit, his motives, are involved every step of the way, if only subliminally:
Bruennhilde: What have you planned that I should suffer? (#87 drum rhythm?)
Wotan: [[ #97: ]] I’ll seal you in soundest sleep (:#97) – (#20c) he who wakes the defenceless woman shall take her, awakened, as wife. (#97)
Bruennhilde: If fettering sleep is to bind me fast, as easy prey to the basest of cowards, [[ #98: ]] this one thing alone you must grant me that holy fear entreats of you. (#98 modulating:) shield the sleeper with hideous terrors (:#98 modulating) (resolutely: #92:) that only a fearlessly free-born hero shall find me here on the fell (:#92)!
Wotan: (#98:) Too much you beg for – too great a boon!
Bruennhilde: This one thing you must allow me! (#?: – [possibly music from Bruennhilde’s appeal to her sisters to protect her and Sieglinde from Wotan?]) Crush your child who clasps your knee, trample your favourite underfoot and dash the maid to pieces (:#?); (#5 vari?:) let your spear destroy all trace of her body (:#5 vari?): (#21) but, pitiless god, don’t give her up to the shamefullest of fates! (with wild inspiration: #77) At your behest (#35:) let a fire flare up; let its flames encircle the fell; (#33b:) its tongue shall lick, its tooth consume the coward who dares to draw near to the fearsome rock in his rashness (:#35; :#33b). (#77 vari)
Wotan: (overcome and deeply stirred, turning impetuously towards Bruennhilde, raising her from her knees and gazing with emotion into her eyes: #77; #98) Fare well [“Leb’ wohl”], you valiant, glorious child! You my heart’s most hallowed pride, fare well! Fare well! Fare well! (very passionately: [[ #An independent aria based partly on #98: ]]) if I must shun you, if no loving