The Downing legends : Stories in Rhyme :: :: University of Virginia Library

He paused a breath. The lorelei flung
A gesture back. Again he wrought,
And tow'rd the watery Eblis sprung
Without another doubting thought.
Then came the rush. He glanced before.
The maiden stood with folded arms,
Upright amid the seethe and roar,
And turned upon him all her charms.
Her eyes like costly jewels shone,
And dazed his vision even then;
Her face was Circe's very own,
A face to dazzle dying men.
But weirdly was it changed in style;
It looked the visage of a Fate.
She smiled, but now it was a smile
Of cruel triumph, burning hate.

He saw her thus, but all too late,
For then he saw her swiftly sink,
And he alone was on the brink.
He followed down the mad descent
With but a single hasty prayer—
A gasp for mercy; down he went
A hundred feet through mist and air;
And downward still; the boiling billow
Received him, clutched him, hurled him swift
Along the rapid's bubbly drift,
As helpless as a wisp of willow.