SVANHILD.
Hence with hopes that snare!
If you sow falsehood, you must reap despair.
For others true, you say? And do you doubt
That each of them, like us, is sure, alike,
That he’s the man the lightning will not strike,
And no avenging thunder will find out,
Whom the blue storm-cloud scudding up the sky
On wings of tempest, never can come nigh?