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The Master Singers of Nuremberg.
23
Kothner.
If suitors offer, their names I crave!
Is anyone here who seeks to essay?
Is anyone here who seeks to essay?
Pogner.
Well, Masters, to the work of the day!
And be it understood
That I, as Masters should,
To think knight have offered protection,
Who seeks for our election,
To woo, as Master-Singers may.—
Sir Walter von Stolzing, step this way!
And be it understood
That I, as Masters should,
To think knight have offered protection,
Who seeks for our election,
To woo, as Master-Singers may.—
Sir Walter von Stolzing, step this way!
(Walter advances and makes obeisance.)
Beckmesser (aside).
Just as I feared! So that's what he schemes?
(aloud.)
Masters, it is too late now, me seems.
The Masters (to one another).
The case is new.—A noble knight?
Should we be glad? D'ye think it right?
Ne'ertheless it should have great weight
That Pogner is his advocate.
Should we be glad? D'ye think it right?
Ne'ertheless it should have great weight
That Pogner is his advocate.
Kothner.
Ere this young man's certified by us
He must first of all be tried by us.
He must first of all be tried by us.
Pogner.
I'll answer your demanding,
And be, myself, his guarantee
That he is nobly born and free:
Sir Walter Stolzing, Franconian knight:
My friends his praise both speak and write,
The last survivor of his race,
He lately left his native place
To Nuremberg to come
And make this town his home.
And be, myself, his guarantee
That he is nobly born and free:
Sir Walter Stolzing, Franconian knight:
My friends his praise both speak and write,
The last survivor of his race,
He lately left his native place
To Nuremberg to come
And make this town his home.
Beckmesser (to his neighbor).
Young, good-for-nothing! This is nice!
Nachtigal (aloud).
Friend Pogner's word will quite suffice.
Sachs.
We Masters did long since decide,
Nor lord nor peasant should be denied.
Art is indeed the sole concern
Of those who Master-Song would learn.
Nor lord nor peasant should be denied.
Art is indeed the sole concern
Of those who Master-Song would learn.
Kothner.
First I pray you impart
What Master taught you your Art.
What Master taught you your Art.
Walter.
By silent hearth in winter-tide,
When house and hall in snow did hide,
How once the Spring so sweetly smiled
And soon should wake to glory mild.
An ancient book my sire compiled
Set all before my duly:
Sir Walter von der Vogelweid'
Has been my master, truly.
When house and hall in snow did hide,
How once the Spring so sweetly smiled
And soon should wake to glory mild.
An ancient book my sire compiled
Set all before my duly:
Sir Walter von der Vogelweid'
Has been my master, truly.
Sachs.
A goodly master!
Beckmesser.
But long since dead!
So what could he of our precepts have read?
So what could he of our precepts have read?
Kothner.
But in my school or college
Of singing gained you your knowledge?
Of singing gained you your knowledge?
Walter.
Yes, when the fields the frost defied
Beneath returning summer-tide,
What once in dreary winter's night
Within that book I read aright
Now pealed aloud through forest bright:
I heard the music ringing.
The wood before the Vogelweid'—
'Twas there I learnt my singing.
Beneath returning summer-tide,
What once in dreary winter's night
Within that book I read aright
Now pealed aloud through forest bright:
I heard the music ringing.
The wood before the Vogelweid'—
'Twas there I learnt my singing.
Beckmesser.
Oho! The finch and the linnet
Taught you all in a minute?
That's your style of song, without doubt.
Taught you all in a minute?
That's your style of song, without doubt.
Vogelgesang.
Two proper Stanzas he has made out.
Beckmesser.
You praise him, Master Vogelgesang,
That from the bird's instruction he sang?
That from the bird's instruction he sang?
Kothner (aside to the Masters).
What think you, Masters? shall I proceed?
I fear this gallant will not succeed.
I fear this gallant will not succeed.
Sachs.
The affair shall be sifted:
If he's with true Art gifted
And treats it as he ought,
What matter where he's taught?
If he's with true Art gifted
And treats it as he ought,
What matter where he's taught?
Kothner.
Are you prepared, before this throng,
To straight produce a Master-Song,
With music set correctly,
And sing it us directly?
To straight produce a Master-Song,
With music set correctly,
And sing it us directly?
Walter.
What winter night,
What wood so bright,
What book and Nature brought me,
What Poet-Songs of magic might
Mysteriously have taught me,
On horses' tramp,
On field and camp,
On knights arrayed
What wood so bright,
What book and Nature brought me,
What Poet-Songs of magic might
Mysteriously have taught me,
On horses' tramp,
On field and camp,
On knights arrayed