THE LOREY LEY. FROM THE GERMAN OF HEINE.

What makes me so heavy-hearted, I ask of my heart in vain: But a tale of the times departed Haunts ever my heart and brain. II. In the cool air it waxes dimmer, And quietly flows the Rhine: And the mountain summits glimmer In the sunny evening shine. III. There sits on the rocks a maiden In marvellous beauty there. With gold her apparel is laden, And she combs her golden hair: IV. And the comb is of gold and glistens, And thereto she sings a song, Which for every soul that listens Has a potent spell and strong. V. The boatman in light boat speeding, When he hears it, utters a cry, No longer the rapids heeding, But only gazing on high. VI. The stream is its wild waves flinging O’er boat and boatman anon, And ’tis this with her lovely singing Which the Lorey Ley has done.

Oh thou of dark forebodings drear, Oh thou of such a faithless heart, Hast thou forgotten what thou art, That thou hast ventured so to fear? II. No weed on Ocean’s bosom cast, Borne by its never-resting foam This way and that, without an home, Till flung on some bleak shore at last— III. But thou the Lotus, which above Swayed here and there by wind and tide, Yet still below doth fixed abide Fast rooted in the eternal Love.