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The Lore-Lei
(13 December 1797 – 17 February 1856 / Dusseldorf)

The Lore-Lei

I know not whence it rises,
This thought so full of woe ;
But a tale of times departed
Haunts me, and will not go.

The air is cool, and it darkens,
And calmly flows the Rhine,
The mountain-peaks are sparkling
In the sunny evening-shine.

And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair ;
With gold is her garment glittering,
And she combs her golden hair:

With a golden comb she combs it;
And a wild song singeth she,
That melts the heart with a wondrous
And powerful melody
.
The boatman feels his bosom
With a nameless longing move ;
He sees not the gulfs before him,
His gaze is fixed above,

Till over boat and boatman
The Rhine's deep waters run :
And this, with her magic singing,
The Lore-lei has done !

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Comments (1)

a modern tale of sirens, a maiden golden haired sitting by the Rhine combing her hair singing, proves a deadly danger for distracted boatmen