kobolds, erlkings, the wraiths and shades of forest and flood, of
mountain and mere, of castled height and swift whirlpool, the denizens
of the deep valleys and mines, the bergs and heaths of this great
province of romance, this rich satrapy of Faery.
A Land of Legend
Nowhere is legend so thickly strewn as on the banks of the Rhine. Each
step is eloquent of tradition, each town, village, and valley. No hill,
no castle but has its story, true or legendary. The Teuton is easily the
world's master in the art of conserving local lore. As one speeds down
the broad breast of this wondrous river, gay with summer and flushed
with the laughter of early vineyards, so close is the network of legend
that the swiftly read or spoken tale of one locality is scarce over ere
the traveller is confronted by another. It is a surfeit of romance, an
inexhaustible hoard of the matter of marvel.
This noble stream with its wealth of tradition has made such a powerful
impression upon the national imagination that it has become intimate in
the soul of the people and commands a reverence and affection which
is not given by any other modern nation to its greatest and most
characteristic river. The Englishman has only a mitigated pride in the
Thames, as a great commercial asset or, its metropolitan borders once
passed, a river of peculiarly restful character; the Frenchman evinces
no very great enthusiasm toward the Seine; and if there are many Spanish
songs about the "chainless Guadalquivir," the dons have been content
to retain its Arabic name. But what German heart does not thrill at the
name of the Rhine? What German cheek does not flush at the sound of that
mighty thunder-hymn which tells of his determination to preserve the
river of his fathers at the cost of his best blood? Nay, what man of
patriotic temperament but feels a responsive chord awake within him
at the thought of that majestic song, so stern, so strong, "clad in
armour," vibrant with the clang of swords, instinct with the universal
accord of a united people? To those who have heard it sung by
multitudinous voices to the accompaniment of golden harps and silver
trumpets it is a thing which can never be forgotten, this world-song
that is at once a hymn of union, a song of the deepest love of country,
a defiance and an intimation of resistance to the death.
The Song of the 'Iron Chancellor'
How potent Die Wacht am Rhein is to stir the hearts of the children of
the Fatherla
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