cceeded 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 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 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 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