s vows and taken to himself a wife, a
damsel of Grecian birth who was even now in his train. The knight of
Liebenstein was bitterly incensed on hearing the news, and sent his
brother a fierce challenge to meet him in single combat; but scarcely
had they met and drawn swords ere the injured lady intervened. She
reminded the young men of their sacred bond of fraternity; she implored
them to desist from the crime of bloodshed. Then, having averted this,
she experienced a great longing to renounce all earthly things, and
took the veil in a neighbouring convent, thus shattering for ever the
rekindled hopes of her elder suitor. But he, the hero of the drama, was
not the only sufferer, for his brother was not to go unpunished for his
perfidy. A strange tale went forth, a scandalous tale to the effect that
the Grecian damsel was unfaithful to her spouse. Sterrenberg began to
rue his ill-timed marriage, and ultimately was forced to banish his wife
altogether. And so, each in his wind-swept castle--for their father was
now dead--the two knights lived on, brooding often on the curious events
of which their lives had been composed. The elder never married, and the
younger had no inclination to take that step a second time.

They never entered court or town,
Nor looked on woman's face;
But childless to the grave went down,
The last of all their race.
And still upon the mountain fair
Are seen two castles grey,
That, like their lords, together there
Sink slowly to decay.

The gust that shakes the tottering stone
On one burg's battlement,
Upon the other's rampart lone
Hath equal fury spent.
And when through Sternberg's shattered wall
The misty moonbeams shine,
Upon the crumbling walls they fall
Of dreary Liebenstein.

This legend is recounted here to illustrate the poetry of the Rhine. A
variant of it is given on p. 171.

Argenfels

But the warriors who flit across the lore of Rhineland were not all so
unfortunate, and one who fared better was Sir Dietrich of Schwarzenbeck.
Marching by the Rhine on his way to join a band of crusaders, this
Dietrich chanced to pass a few days at the castle of Argenfels, whose
owner was the father of two daughters. The younger of the pair, Bertha
by name, soon fell in love with the guest, while he, too, was deeply
impressed by her charm; but silken dalliance was not for him at
present--for was he not under a vow t