spangled with gems, Lorelei climbed the rock. There, with a comb set thick with costly jewels, she sat and combed her beautiful golden hair.
And yonder sits a maiden,
The fairest of the fair,
With gold in her garment glittering,
And she combs her golden hair.
With a golden comb she combs it,
And a wild song singeth she,
That meets the heart with a wondrous
And powerful melody.
Slowly, back and forth, through her long, loose hair, she drew the comb. And while she combed, she sang. Such a song! Wild and sweet, it floated down through the dark and filled the night with its entrancing music.
No words can tell its tenderness. Clear and low, it echoed from rock to rock. It mingled with all the night-sounds of the forest — the startled cry of a bird in its little nest, the wind in the leaves, the waves on the shore.
