CHAPTER XVI
AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE
A Tramp Abroad | ||
16. CHAPTER XVI
AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE
The last legend reminds one of the "Lorelei",—a legend of the Rhine. There is a song called "The Lorelei."
Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of several of them are peculiarly beautiful,—but "The Lorelei" is the people's favorite. I could not endure it at first, but by and by it began to take hold of me, and now there is no tune which I like so well.
It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I should have heard it there. The fact that I never heard it there, is evidence that there are others in my country who have fared likewise; therefore, for the sake of these, I mean to print the words and music in this chapter. And I will refresh the reader's memory by printing the legend of the Lorelei, too. I have it by me in the "Legends of the Rhine," done into English by the wildly gifted Garnham, Bachelor of Arts. I print the legend partly to refresh my own memory, too, for I have never read it before.
THE LEGEND
Lore (two syllables) was a water nymph who used to sit on a high rock called the Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word lie) in the Rhine, and lure boatmen to destruction in a furious rapid which marred the channel at that spot. She so bewitched them with her plaintive songs and her wonderful beauty that they forgot everything else to gaze up at her,
In those old, old times, the Count Bruno lived in a great castle near there with his son, the Count Hermann, a youth of twenty. Hermann had heard a great deal about the beautiful Lore, and had finally fallen very deeply in love with her without having seen her. So he used to wander to the neighborhood of the Lei, evenings, with his Zither and "Express his Longing in low Singing," as Garnham says. On one of these occasions, "suddenly there hovered around the top of the rock a brightness of unequaled clearness and color, which, in increasingly smaller circles thickened, was the enchanting figure of the beautiful Lore.
After that he was a changed person. He went dreaming about,
thinking only of his fairy and caring for naught else
in the world. "The old count saw with affliction this
changement in his son," whose cause he could not divine,
and tried to divert his mind into cheerful channels,
but to no purpose. Then the old count used authority.
He commanded the
THE LORELEI
[Description: Rough drawing of girl sitting with harp, a few
skulls next to her on a ledge.
]
In supernatural Beauty bright;
Of Light-rays, was the Figure wove,
To share its light, locked-hair strove.
By thy hand the sign of love,
Thy eyes sweet enchantment,
Raying to me, oh! enchantment.
How willingly thy love to part!
With delight I should be bound
To thy rocky house in deep ground."
That Hermann should have gone to that place at all, was not wise; that he should have gone with such a song as that in his mouth was a most serious mistake. The Lorelei did not "call his name in unutterable sweet Whispers" this time. No, that song naturally worked an instant and thorough "changement" in her; and not only that, but it stirred the bowels of the whole afflicted region around about there,—for,—
The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during many centuries, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to our respect. One feels drawn tenderly toward her and is moved to forget her many crimes and remember only the good deed that crowned and closed her career.
Here is the music, and the German words by Heinrich Heine. This song has been a favorite in Germany for forty years, and will remain a favorite always, maybe.
LORELEI
[Description: 2 pages of music and text, in German, of the song,!
]
I have a prejudice against people who print things in a foreign language and add no translation. When I am the reader, and the author considers me able to do the translating myself, he pays me quite a nice compliment,—but if he would do the translating for me I would try to get along without the compliment.
If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of this poem, but I am abroad and can't; therefore I will make a translation myself. It may not be a good one, for poetry is out of my line, but it will serve my purpose,—which is, to give the unGerman young girl a jingle of words to hang the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made by some one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poetical thought from one language to another.
THE LORELEI
This haunting nameless pain:
A tale of the bygone ages
Keeps brooding through my brain:
And peaceful flows the Rhine,
The thirsty summits are drinking
The sunset's flooding wine;
High-throned in yon blue air,
Her golden jewels are shining,
She combs her golden hair;
And sings a weird refrain
That steeps in a deadly enchantment
The list'ner's ravished brain:
Is tranced with the sad sweet tone,
He sees not the yawning breakers,
He sees but the maid alone:
So perish sailor and bark;
And this, with her baleful singing,
Is the Lorelei's gruesome work.
I have a translation by Garnham, Bachelor of Arts, in the "Legends of the Rhine," but it would not answer the purpose I mentioned above, because the measure is too nobly irregular; it don't fit the tune snugly enough; in places it hangs over at the ends too far, and in other places one runs out of words before he gets to the end of a bar. Still, Garnham's translation has high merits, and I am not dreaming of leaving it out of my book. I believe this poet is wholly unknown in America and England; I take peculiar pleasure in bringing him forward because I consider that I discovered him:
THE LORELEI
Translated by L. W. Garnham, B.A.
That I am so sorrowful?
A fable of old Times so terrifies,
Leaves my heart so thoughtful.
And calmly flows the Rhine;
The summit of the mountain hearkens
In evening sunshine line.
Above wonderfully there,
Her beautiful golden attire glances,
She combs her golden hair.
And thereby a song sings,
It has a tone so wondrous,
That powerful melody rings.
It effects with woe sad might;
He does not see the rocky slip,
He only regards dreaded height.
Swallow the last shipper and boat;
She with her singing craves
All to visit her magic moat.
No translation could be closer. He has got in all the facts;
No one with a specialty can hope to have a monopoly of it. Even Garnham has a rival. Mr. X had a small pamphlet with him which he had bought while on a visit to Munich. It was entitled A Catalogue of Pictures in the Old Pinacotek," and was written in a peculiar kind of English. Here are a few extracts:
However, the English of this catalogue is at least as happy as that which distinguishes an inscription upon a certain picture in Rome,—to wit:
But meanwhile the raft is moving on.
CHAPTER XVI
AN ANCIENT LEGEND OF THE RHINE
A Tramp Abroad | ||