from the German of Friedrich Von Sallet, trans. by Walter K. Kelly.
Originally published in The Leader (Joseph Clatton, junr.) vol.1 #6 (04 May 1850).
A lightsome, potent fay
On the dusky rock sits high;
And sweet are the lips and the liquid lay
Of the beautiful Lorelei.
She sings, that all may hear;
But the strain not many heed.
"Fie! 'tis a cheat, boy; give it no ear!"
So runs gray caution's rede.
The crews, as they cleave the wave,
Pull fast by the haunted rock;
Their only care is how to save
Their craft from the shivering shock.
Deaf ears, cold hearts, and rude
Have they for that sweet strain;
And they reckon, forsooth, in their sullen mood
Delight foregone as gain.
They pause not, hearken not
To the voice from the charmed shore;
Dull drudgery is their ceaseless lot,
Wearily bent to the oar.
But he, in whose kindling breast
The currents of life run strong,
Right gladly surrenders himself, possest
By the lofty power of song.
He drops the oar; not a thought
He gives to his fate, altho'
His boat, in the whirling eddies caught,
Goes fathoms deep below.
Soft now his rest, where never
Life's jarring sounds intrude,
To scare the sweet dreams that lull him ever
In that crystal solitude.
There by the Lorelei's song
His dreaming ear is thrilled,
And his raptured sense with a wild sweet throng
Of fairy joys is filled.
I, too, in those waters drowned,
Their hallowed depths love well,
In a trance of delight for ever bound
By the charmer's warbled spell.