Zu Bacharach am Rheine wohnt eine Zauberinn
Sie war so schön und feine und risz viel Herzen hin."
AN ancient song rings in my brain,
A legendary lay;
Nor can I rid me of its spell
And I am sad to-day.
The air is cool, the twilight falls,
The still Rhine sleeps below
The crystal heights, that catch the lights
The setting sunbeams throw.
A Maiden on yon beetling-ridge
Sits in her beauty rare;
Her jewel'd garments flash afar
She combs her golden hair.
She combs it with a golden comb,
And sings unto the sea
A song as marvellously sweet
As siren-song may be.
The Sailor, in his little skiff,
Feels a sharp, joy-like woe;
And, gazing on the Maiden there,
Forgets the rock below.
Into the green, the treach'rous wave,
Sink Mariner and boat
But Lore-Lei's strange melodies
Still o'er the waters float.
From the German of HEINE.