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The Lorelei
Her beauty was her undoing. Lorelei was not willfully seductive, but men
could not resist her charms, and she could not resist their advances. She
was bringing scandal and disgrace to the respectable town of
Bacharach-on-the-Rhine.
There was even talk that she must be a witch or a woman possessed of the
devil. The bishop, however, would not hear of an execution without due
process, and he summoned her to his court. His questions were at first stern
and severe. Her answers were simple and sincere. The bishop's severity, his
piety, and his priesthood, however, did not prevail, and in the end he
pronounced her free of all guilt.
"I cannot continue like this!" she cried. "My eyes are the destruction of
every man who looks into them. I have loved only one man, and he abandoned
me and left for a distant land. Please let me die!"
But the good bishop could not bring himself to pronounce a death sentence.
Instead, he proposed that she dedicate herself to God, and called three
knights to accompany her to the convent. Arrangements were made forthwith,
and the three knights were soon underway with their beautiful ward.
When their path led them past a high cliff overlooking the Rhine, Lorelei
had one last request of her escorts. "Please," she said, "let me climb the
cliff and have one last look into the Rhine." Unable to deny her this wish,
the three knights tethered their horses, and the four of them climbed to the
top of the cliff.
Standing at the edge of the precipice, Lorelei said, "See that boat on the
Rhine. The boatman is my lover!" And with no further warning, she jumped
from the cliff into the Rhine.
The three knights also met their death there, without a priest and without a
grave.
Who is the singer of this song?
A boatman on the Rhine,
And we always hear the echo
Of the Three-Knight-Stone:
Lorelei
Lorelei
Lorelei
As though there were three of us.
The Faery Lorelei
Tonight...far away from this pub
A girl shall dance by the cool winding stream,
'Neath the tall uneven blackthorn tree
And sing a ballad to the wind and the trees.
Far away even from the town
Her large brown eyes search
For the quiet lad she once knew
Who walked in the twilight of the sidhe.
Sorrow betrays her comely face
When she knows that he won't come
And the tear that falls from her cheek
Joins her stream and winds away.
The moon shall have dominion then
Over all the spirits on the earth
And sweet Lorelei will smile
And forget her sorrows once more.
And she will dance wildly again
Under the sacred blackthorn tree
Until another lad passes her way
And his life to take with a song.
Alas the sweet faery Lorelei,
Who sing sweet ballads of love
While their lovers drown in streams
And wash away on tears of longing.
End
By John C. Cyr
Lorelei
It is no night to drown in:
A full moon, river lapsing
Black beneath bland mirror-sheen,
The blue water-mists droppping
Scrim after scrim like fishnets
Though fishermen are sleeping,
The massive castle turrets
Doubling themselves in a glass
All stillness. Yet these shapes float
Up toward me, troubling the face
Of quiet. From nadir
They rise, their limbs ponderous
With richness, hair heavier
Than sculpted marble. They sing
Of a world more full and clear
Than can be. Sisters, your song
Bears a burden too weighty
For the whorled ear's listening
Here, in a well-steered country,
Under a balanced ruler.
Deranging by harmony
Beyond the mundane order,
Your voices lay seige. You lodge
On the pitched reefs of nightmare,
Promising sure harborage;
By day, descant from borders
Of hebetude, from the ledge
Also of high windows. Worse
Even than your maddening
Song, your silence. At the source
Of your ice-hearted calling---
Drunkenness of the great depths.
O river, I see drifting
Deep in your flux of silver
Those great goddesses of peace.
Stone, stone, ferry me down there.
--Sylvia Plath
The Lorelei
I
Above Coblentz, where the Rhine flows through hills covered with vineyards, there is a steep rock, around which many a legend has been woven -- the Lorelei 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 copper locks 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 boatman 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 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 graved. Forgetting all else, he would steer towards her, already dreaming of having reached her; but the jealous waves would 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 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 waternymph, he felt drawn to her by an irresistible power.
Under the 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 lo!, there she was. Yes, this was she, this wonderful creature! A glorious picture in a dark frame. Yes, that was her copper 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, and 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 ran 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 the 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 Lorelei'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 the mountains and hills. The rock was surrounded by armed men, and 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, dreamily combing her copper 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 lovely 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 heights of the rocks.
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