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Stories of the Rhine Country
ing hand, no gleam of golden hair. The beautiful Lorelei was gone.
And never since, one rock or shore, has she been seen. Never more does she play with her hair in the light of the moon. But sometimes, even yet, just at midnight, when all the forest is still and solemn under the moon, it is said that belated travelers hear the low, murmuring music of Lorelei's song.
Maybe, some day when you go sailing on the Rhine, you will see the great rock which still bears the name of the lovely Lorelei. But look as you will, you will not see the golden-haired siren. And the peasants will tell you that she is still angry at the conduct of the warriors, and that never more will she leave her glittering cave-palace under the Rhine.
