St. Goar
Lorelei
Die
Loreley
Nach dem Gemalde von C. Begas
Above Coblentz where the Rhine flows through hills
covered
with vineyards, there is a steep rock, round which many a legend has
been
woven
– the Lurlei Rock. The
boatman gazes up
at its gigantic summit
with
awful reverence when his boat glides over the waters at twilight. Like
chattering
children the restless waves whisper round the rock, telling wonderful
tales
of its doings. Above on its gray head, the legend relates that a
beautiful
but false nymph, clothed in white with a wreath of stars in her flowing
hair,
used to sit and sing sweet songs, until a sad tragedy drove her forever
away.
Long, long ago, when night in her dark garment
descended
from the hills, and her silent comrade, the pale moon, cast a silver
bridge
over the deep green steam, the soft voice of a woman was heard from the
rock,
and a creature of divine beauty was seen on its summit. Her golden
lock's
flowed like a queenly mantle from her graceful shoulders, covering her
snow-white
raiment so that her tenderly-formed body appeared like a cloud of
light.
Woe to the boatsman who passed the rock at the close of day! As of old,
men
were fascinated by the heavenly song of the Grecian hero, so was the
unhappy
voyager allured by this being to sweet forgetfulness, his eyes, even as
his
soul, would be dazzled, and he could no longer steer clear of reefs and
cliffs,
and this beautiful siren only drew him to an early grave. Forgetting
all
else, he would steer towards her, already dreaming of having reached
her;
but the jealous waves would wash round his boat and at last dash him
treacherously against the rocks. The roaring waters of the Rhine would
drown
the cries of agony of the victim who would never be seen again.
But the virgin to whom no one had ever approached,
continued
every night to sing soft and low, till darkness vanished in the first
rays
of light, and the great star of day drove the gray mists from the
valley.
II.
Ronald was a proud youth and the boldest warrior
at the
court of his father, the Palatinate Count. He heard of this divine,
enchanting
creature, and his heart burned with the desire to behold her. Before
having
seen the water-nymph, he felt drawn to her by an irresistible power.
Under pretence of hunting, he left the court, and
succeeded
in getting an old sailor to row him to the rock. Twilight was brooding
over
the valley of the Rhine when the boat approached the gigantic cliff;
the
departing sun had long sunk below the mountains, and now night was
creeping
on in silence; the evening star was twinkling in the deep blue
firmament.
Was it his protecting-angel who had placed it there as a warning to the
deluded
young man?
He gazed at it in rapture for some time, until a
low
cry from the old man at his side interrupted him. "The Lorelei!"
whispered
he, startled, "do you see her
– the enchantress?"
The only answer was
a
soft murmur which escaped from the youth. With wide-open eyes he looked
up
and loi there she was. Yes, this was she, this wonderful creature! A
glorious
picture in a dark frame. Yes, that was her golden hair, and those were
her
flowing white garments.
She was hovering up above on the rocks combing her beautiful
hair; rays of light surrounded her graceful head, revealing her charms
in
spite .of the night and the distance, und as he gazed, her lips opened,
and
a song thrilled through the silence, soft and plaintive like the sweet
notes
of a nightingale on a still summer evening.
From her height she looked down into the hazy
distance
and cast at the youth a rapturous look which sank down into his soul,
thrilling
his whole frame.
His eyes were fixed on the features of this celestial being
where he read the sweet story of love . . . Rocks, stream, glorious
night,
all melted into a mist before his eyes, he saw nothing but the figure
above,
nothing but her radiant eyes. The boat crept along, too slowly for him,
he
could no longer remain in it, and if his ear did not deceive him, this
creature
seemed to whisper his name with unutterable sweetness, and calling to
her,
he dashed into the water.
A death-like cry echoed from the rocks . . . and
the
waves sighed and washed over the unhappy youth's corpse.
The old boatman moaned and crossed himself, and as
he
did so, lightning tore the clouds asunder, and a loud peal of thunder
was
heard over the mountains. Then the waves whispered gently below, and
again
from the heights above, sad and dying away, sounded the Lurlei's song.
III.
The sad news was soon brought to the Palatinate
Count,
who was overpowered with grief and anger. He ordered the false
enchantress
to be delivered up to him, dead or alive.
The next day a boat sailed down the Rhine, manned
by
four hardy bold warriors. The leader looked up sternly at the great
rocks
which seemed to be smiling silently down at him. He had asked
permission
to dash the diabolical seducer from the top of the rocks into the
foaming
whirlpool below, where she would find a certain death, and the count
had
readily agreed to this plan of revenge.
IV.
The first shades of twilight were gliding softly
over
mountain and hill.
The rock was surrounded by armed men, and the
leader,
followed by some daring comrades, was climbing up the side of the
mountain
the top of which was veiled in a golden mist, which the men thought
were
the last rays of sunset. It was a bright gleam of light enshrouding the
nymph
who appeared on the rocks, dreamingly combing her golden hair. She then
took
a string of pearls from her bosom, and with her slender white hand
bound
them round her forehead. She cast a mocking glance at the threatening
men
approaching her.
"What, are the weak sons of the earth seeking up
here
on the heights?" said she, moving her rosy lips scornfully. "You
sorceress!"
cried the leader enraged, adding with a contemptuous smile, "You! We
shall
dash you down into the river below!"
An echoing laugh was heard over the mountain.
"Oh! the Rhine will come himself to fetch me!"
cried
the maiden.
Then bending her slender body over the precipice yawning
below,
she tore the jewels from her forehead, hurling them triumphantly into
the
waters, while in a low sweet voice she sang: --
"Haste thee, haste thee oh father dear! Send forth
thy
steeds from the waters clear. I will ride with the waves and the wind!"
Then a storm burst forth, the Rhine rose, covering
its
banks with foam. Two gigantic billows like snow-white steeds rose out
of
the depths, and carried the nymph down into the rushing current.
V.
The terrified messengers returned to the count,
bringing
him the tidings of this wonderful event.
Ronald, whose body a chance wave had washed up on the banks
of the river, was deeply mourned throughout the country.
From this time forth, the Lorelei was never seen
again.
Only when night sheds her dark shadow on the hills, and the pale moon
weaves
a silver bridge over the deep green stream, then the voice of a woman,
soft
and low, is heard echoing from the weird heights of the rocks.
_______________________________________________
The Lorelei has vanished, but her charm still
remains.
Thou canst find it, O Wanderer, in the eyes of the
maidens
near the Rhine. It blooms on their cheeks, it lingers on their rosy
lips,
there thou wilt find its traces.
Arm thy heart, steel thy will, blindfold thine
eye!
As a poet of the Rhine once wisely and warningly
sang,
"My son, my son, beware of the Rhine .... "
The Lorelei has vanished, but her charm still
remains.
Click
to go to the next
section of
the Legends of the Rhine
|