Chapter 15 THE LORELEI

I know not whence it rises,

This thought so full of woe:

But a tale of the times departed

Haunts me-and will not go.

The air is cool, and it darkens,

And calmly flows the Rhine;

The mountain peaks are sparkling

In the sunny evening-shine.

And yonder sits a maiden,

The fairest of the fair;

With gold is her garment glitt