Then a faint glow stealing up, lights the snowy head of THE
GREAT HORN, and streams forth on SEELCHEN. To either aide of
that path of light, like shadows. THE COW HORN and THE WINE
HORN stand with cloaked heads.

SEELCHEN. Great One! I come!

The Peak of THE GREAT HORN speaks in a far-away voice, growing,
with the light, clearer and stronger.

Wandering flame, thou restless fever
Burning all things, regretting none;
The winds of fate are stilled for ever—
Thy little generous life is done.
And all its wistful wonderings cease!
Thou traveller to the tideless sea,
Where light and dark, and change and peace,
Are One—Come, little soul, to MYSTERY!

SEELCHEN falling on her knees, bows her head to the ground. The
glow slowly fades till the scene is black.