Songs and Legends of the Rhine, op. 35

Belov'd and lovely river,
so beautiful and bright,
with all thy spells of wild romance,
arise before my sight!
The lov'd one fills her lover's lay,
be thou the theme of mine;
the burden of it evermore
heaven's blessing on the Rhine!

O thou Cybele of rivers,
that castle-crowned dost shine,
with legend-haunted ruin grey
and graceful wreathing vine.
E'en stranger-pilgrims feel thy charm
and worship at thy shrine!
How then how we, thine own, must cry
heaven's blessing on the Rhine!

Could I once more, but once more
thine isles and lov'd shore seek!
I think of thee, I dream of thee,
till tears roll down my cheek.
Oh take me dying to thy breast,
my last thought shall be thine,
my last faint faltering sigh shall be
heaven's blessing on the Rhine!

Forget me not! Can young love's power
of self-devotion be forgot
while lives his dearly cherish'd flower,
his azure-eyed Forget-me-not,
Love's watchword in the parting hour?
Oh, what a tale its leaflets tell
of him, who gave that name, its dower,
e'en as he bade his life farewell!
The knight who for his Lady's smile
swam to the stormy Rhine's green isle,
through the deep waves the flow'ret bore,
but perish'd, as he near'd the shore!
The faithful knight who, as he sank,
threw the wish'd blossom to the bank,
and as he threw it faintly cried:
Forget me not, sweet love! and died.

Come, oh come! Night-winds are wooing
soft the vineyards on the shore.
Come, let's glide 'mid rock and ruin
to the music of the oar.
Luna's smile each charm enhances,
turning all to silver bright,
that she touches with her glances
or her finger's tip of light.
Oh, she with that magic wand
makes all round as Fairyland!
See, how fair, how wond'rous fair
in her beam the waters shine!
Moonlight's lovely ev'rywhere,
but loveliest, oh, loveliest on the Rhine!

Night-flow'rs elfin crowns are wreathing,
and the heart's night-flower too,
all its sweetest feelings breathing,
when the daylight bids adieu.
Dreamily the earth's reclining,
bath'd in moonshine, bath'd in bliss,
but a dearer spell is twining
round our souls in hours like this.
And another magic wand
turns all there to Fairyland!
Love's sweet spirits in the air,
filling, thrilling thine and mine!
Love is heav'nly ev'rywhere,
but heav'nliest, oh heav'nliest on the Rhine!

Weeping, sighing by the Rhine calm and bright 
I wander'd and thought on my own true knight,
when hark! martial music! I glow'd with delight
and cried: 't is my hero, return'd from the fight!

Alas! They brought tidings of woe: He was slain
and I doom'd forever to heart-rending pain.
Then I sought the cold cloister, cut off my fair hair
and doun'd sadly the veil, the black veil of despair.

He came too late, found me heav'n's plighted bride;
ah, would, ere breathing that vow I had died!
Glance for glance, weeping, and sigh for sigh we gave;
would both we were sleeping in grief's best home, the grave!

Heart, why, poor breaking heart,
oh why thus linger on?
Life, weary life, depart!
Now ev'ry joy is gone!
Hence, again to battle! Hope is o'er,
haste, in glory's field thy blood to pour!
No, 't is in vain,
thou'rt bound by a chain
more faintly each day
to throb and pine away.
Go, seek some kind lance, the more piercing conflict shun
of seeing the ador'd one a veil'd and cloister'd nun!
Nay, heav'n yet grant my prayer!
Bid the lov'd form, appear!
Still let me breathe the air
her sweet breath renders dear.
Still e'en in anguish 
near her languish!
Gaze, gaze, eyes dim with grief,
till tears bring soft relief!
Heart, slowly break and die
in one long, hopeless sigh!

Hark, hark to yon ravishing music divine,
resounding among the wild rocks of the Rhine,
so spell-bearing, thrilling and moving!
What witchery dwells in that song?
The echoes repeat it, as loving
so dulcet a strain to prolong.
As if all the mermaids of ocean,
all Sylphids of air had combin'd
their magic, to melt with emotion
and carry away the rapt mind!
'T is she, Loreley! By the beaming
sweet smile, and the fair form of light!
Ah see! O'er her golden lyre streamig
her locks still more golden and bright!

All earth's nightingales seem to her lips to have flown
and mingled their warblings in each honied tone.

She sings: Fisher, steer thy bark hither,
thy net shall a treasure enfold!
Pearl-garlands that never can wither
and fishes all silver and gold!
O come, Ritter, come to my palace
beneath the blue Rhine, gallant knight!
O taste of my nectarous chalice,
that chalice of love and delight.
I'll lull thee to sleep with my singing
and wake thee perchance with a kiss,
with one of those balm-kisses, bringing
to mortals Elysian bliss!

She beckons; her voice and her smile grow more sweet;
oh turn thy boat quickly, rash fisher, retreat!
For the first time, Sir knight, fly the foe! Fatal snare!
If ye pause, if ye list to the Syren - beware!