Germany is rich in folk-songs, and the words and airs of several of them are peculiarly beautiful—but “The Lorelei” is the people’s favorite. I could not endure it at first, but by and by it began to take hold of me, and now there is no tune3 which I like so well.
It is not possible that it is much known in America, else I should have heard it there. The fact that I never heard it there, is evidence that there are others in my country who have fared likewise; therefore, for the sake of these, I mean to print the words and music in this chapter. And I will refresh the reader’s memory by printing the legend of the Lorelei, too. I have it by me in the Legends of the Rhine, done into English by the wildly gifted Garnham, Bachelor of Arts. I print the legend partly to refresh my own memory, too, for I have never read it before.
THE LEGEND
Lore1 (two syllables) was a water nymph who used to sit on a high rock called the Ley or Lei (pronounced like our word lie) in the Rhine, and lure4 boatmen to destruction in a furious rapid which marred5 the channel at that spot. She so bewitched them with her plaintive6 songs and her wonderful beauty that they forgot everything else to gaze up at her, and so they presently drifted among the broken reefs and were lost.
In those old, old times, the Count Bruno lived in a great castle near there with his son, the Count Hermann, a youth of twenty. Hermann had heard a great deal about the beautiful Lore, and had finally fallen very deeply in love with her without having seen her. So he used to wander to the neighborhood of the Lei, evenings, with his Zither and “Express his Longing7 in low Singing,” as Garnham says. On one of these occasions, “suddenly there hovered8 around the top of the rock a brightness of unequaled clearness and color, which, in increasingly smaller circles thickened, was the enchanting9 figure of the beautiful Lore.
“An unintentional cry of Joy escaped the Youth, he let his Zither fall, and with extended arms he called out the name of the enigmatical Being, who seemed to stoop lovingly to him and beckon10 to him in a friendly manner; indeed, if his ear did not deceive him, she called his name with unutterable sweet Whispers, proper to love. Beside himself with delight the youth lost his Senses and sank senseless to the earth.”
After that he was a changed person. He went dreaming about, thinking only of his fairy and caring for naught11 else in the world. “The old count saw with affliction this changement in his son,” whose cause he could not divine, and tried to divert his mind into cheerful channels, but to no purpose. Then the old count used authority. He commanded the youth to betake himself to the camp. Obedience12 was promised. Garnham says:
“It was on the evening before his departure, as he wished still once to visit the Lei and offer to the Nymph of the Rhine his Sighs, the tones of his Zither, and his Songs. He went, in his boat, this time accompanied by a faithful squire13, down the stream. The moon shed her silvery light over the whole country; the steep bank mountains appeared in the most fantastical shapes, and the high oaks on either side bowed their Branches on Hermann’s passing. As soon as he approached the Lei, and was aware of the surf-waves, his attendant was seized with an inexpressible Anxiety and he begged permission to land; but the Knight14 swept the strings15 of his Guitar and sang:
“Once I saw thee in dark night,
In supernatural Beauty bright;
Of Light-rays, was the Figure wove,
To share its light, locked-hair strove.
“Thy Garment color wave-dove
By thy hand the sign of love,
Thy eyes sweet enchantment16,
Raying to me, oh! enchantment.
“O, wert thou but my sweetheart,
How willingly thy love to part!
With delight I should be bound
To thy rocky house in deep ground.”
That Hermann should have gone to that place at all, was not wise; that he should have gone with such a song as that in his mouth was a most serious mistake. The Lorelei did not “call his name in unutterable sweet Whispers” this time. No, that song naturally worked an instant and thorough “changement” in her; and not only that, but it stirred the bowels17 of the whole afflicted18 region around about there—for—
“Scarcely had these tones sounded, everywhere there began tumult19 and sound, as if voices above and below the water. On the Lei rose flames, the Fairy stood above, at that time, and beckoned20 with her right hand clearly and urgently to the infatuated Knight, while with a staff in her left hand she called the waves to her service. They began to mount heavenward; the boat was upset, mocking every exertion21; the waves rose to the gunwale, and splitting on the hard stones, the Boat broke into Pieces. The youth sank into the depths, but the squire was thrown on shore by a powerful wave."
The bitterest things have been said about the Lorelei during many centuries, but surely her conduct upon this occasion entitles her to our respect. One feels drawn22 tenderly toward her and is moved to forget her many crimes and remember only the good deed that crowned and closed her career.
“The Fairy was never more seen; but her enchanting tones have often been heard. In the beautiful, refreshing23, still nights of spring, when the moon pours her silver light over the Country, the listening shipper hears from the rushing of the waves, the echoing Clang of a wonderfully charming voice, which sings a song from the crystal castle, and with sorrow and fear he thinks on the young Count Hermann, seduced24 by the Nymph.”
Here is the music, and the German words by Heinrich Heine. This song has been a favorite in Germany for forty years, and will remain a favorite always, maybe. [Figure 5]
I have a prejudice against people who print things in a foreign language and add no translation. When I am the reader, and the author considers me able to do the translating myself, he pays me quite a nice compliment—but if he would do the translating for me I would try to get along without the compliment.
If I were at home, no doubt I could get a translation of this poem, but I am abroad and can’t; therefore I will make a translation myself. It may not be a good one, for poetry is out of my line, but it will serve my purpose—which is, to give the unGerman young girl a jingle25 of words to hang the tune on until she can get hold of a good version, made by some one who is a poet and knows how to convey a poetical26 thought from one language to another.
THE LORELEI
I cannot divine what it meaneth,
This haunting nameless pain:
A tale of the bygone ages
Keeps brooding through my brain:
The faint air cools in the glooming,
And peaceful flows the Rhine,
The thirsty summits are drinking
The sunset’s flooding wine;
High-throned in yon blue air,
Her golden jewels are shining,
She combs her golden hair;
She combs with a comb that is golden,
That steeps in a deadly enchantment
The list’ner’s ravished brain:
Is tranced with the sad sweet tone,
He sees not the yawning breakers,
He sees but the maid alone:
So perish sailor and bark;
And this, with her baleful singing,
Is the Lorelei’s gruesome work.
I have a translation by Garnham, Bachelor of Arts, in the Legends of the Rhine, but it would not answer the purpose I mentioned above, because the measure is too nobly irregular; it don’t fit the tune snugly31 enough; in places it hangs over at the ends too far, and in other places one runs out of words before he gets to the end of a bar. Still, Garnham’s translation has high merits, and I am not dreaming of leaving it out of my book. I believe this poet is wholly unknown in America and England; I take peculiar2 pleasure in bringing him forward because I consider that I discovered him:
THE LORELEI
Translated by L. W. Garnham, B.A.
I do not know what it signifies.
That I am so sorrowful?
Leaves my heart so thoughtful.
The air is cool and it darkens,
And calmly flows the Rhine;
The summit of the mountain hearkens
In evening sunshine line.
The most beautiful Maiden entrances
Above wonderfully there,
She combs her golden hair.
That powerful melody rings.
The shipper in the little ship
He does not see the rocky slip,
I believe the turbulent waves
Swallow the last shipper and boat;
All to visit hermagic moat.
No translation could be closer. He has got in all the facts; and in their regular order, too. There is not a statistic40 wanting. It is as succinct41 as an invoice42. That is what a translation ought to be; it should exactly reflect the thought of the original. You can’t sing “Above wonderfully there,” because it simply won’t go to the tune, without damaging the singer; but it is a most clingingly exact translation of Dort Oben Wunderbar—fits it like a blister43. Mr. Garnham’s reproduction has other merits—a hundred of them—but it is not necessary to point them out. They will be detected.
No one with a specialty44 can hope to have a monopoly of it. Even Garnham has a rival. Mr. X had a small pamphlet with him which he had bought while on a visit to Munich. It was entitled A Catalogue of Pictures in the Old Pinacotek, and was written in a peculiar kind of English. Here are a few extracts:
“It is not permitted to make use of the work in question to a publication of the same contents as well as to the pirated edition of it.”
“An evening landscape. In the foreground near a pond and a group of white beeches45 is leading a footpath46 animated47 by travelers.”
“Portrait of a young man. A long while this picture was thought to be Bindi Altoviti’s portrait; now somebody will again have it to be the self-portrait of Raphael.”
(“Lapidation” is good; it is much more elegant than “stoning.”)
“St. Rochus sitting in a landscape with an angel who looks at his plague-sore, whilst the dog the bread in his mouth attents him.”
“A warrior53 in armor with a gypseous pipe in his hand leans against a table and blows the smoke far away of himself.”
“A Dutch landscape along a navigable river which perfuses it till to the background.”
“Some peasants singing in a cottage. A woman lets drink a child out of a cup.”
“A young man of the Riccio family, his hair cut off right at the end, dressed in black with the same cap. Attributed to Raphael, but the signation is false.”
However, the English of this catalogue is at least as happy as that which distinguishes an inscription57 upon a certain picture in Rome—to wit:
“Revelations-View. St. John in Patterson’s Island.”
But meanwhile the raft is moving on.
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1
lore
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| n.传说；学问，经验，知识 | |
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peculiar
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| adj.古怪的，异常的；特殊的，特有的 | |
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tune
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| n.调子；和谐，协调；v.调音，调节，调整 | |
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lure
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| n.吸引人的东西，诱惑物；vt.引诱，吸引 | |
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marred
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| adj. 被损毁, 污损的 | |
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plaintive
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| adj.可怜的，伤心的 | |
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longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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hovered
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| 鸟( hover的过去式和过去分词 )； 靠近（某事物）； （人）徘徊； 犹豫 | |
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enchanting
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| a.讨人喜欢的 | |
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beckon
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| v.(以点头或打手势)向...示意，召唤 | |
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naught
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| n.无，零 [=nought] | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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squire
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| n.护卫, 侍从, 乡绅 | |
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knight
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| n.骑士，武士；爵士 | |
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strings
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| n.弦 | |
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enchantment
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| n.迷惑，妖术，魅力 | |
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bowels
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| n.肠，内脏，内部；肠( bowel的名词复数 )；内部，最深处 | |
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afflicted
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| 使受痛苦，折磨( afflict的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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tumult
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| n.喧哗；激动，混乱；吵闹 | |
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beckoned
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| v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21
exertion
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| n.尽力，努力 | |
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drawn
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| v.拖，拉，拔出；adj.憔悴的，紧张的 | |
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refreshing
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| adj.使精神振作的，使人清爽的，使人喜欢的 | |
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seduced
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| 诱奸( seduce的过去式和过去分词 )； 勾引； 诱使堕落； 使入迷 | |
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jingle
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| n.叮当声，韵律简单的诗句；v.使叮当作响，叮当响，押韵 | |
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poetical
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| adj.似诗人的；诗一般的；韵文的；富有诗意的 | |
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maiden
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| n.少女，处女；adj.未婚的，纯洁的，无经验的 | |
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weird
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| adj.古怪的，离奇的；怪诞的，神秘而可怕的 | |
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doomed
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| 命定的 | |
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engulf
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| vt.吞没，吞食 | |
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snugly
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| adv.紧贴地；贴身地；暖和舒适地；安适地 | |
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fable
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| n.寓言；童话；神话 | |
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attire
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| v.穿衣，装扮[同]array；n.衣着；盛装 | |
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lustrous
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| adj.有光泽的；光辉的 | |
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thereby
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| adv.因此，从而 | |
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wondrous
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| adj.令人惊奇的，奇妙的；adv.惊人地；异乎寻常地；令人惊叹地 | |
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woe
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| n.悲哀，苦痛，不幸，困难；int.用来表达悲伤或惊慌 | |
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dreaded
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| adj.令人畏惧的；害怕的v.害怕，恐惧，担心( dread的过去式和过去分词) | |
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39
craves
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| 渴望，热望( crave的第三人称单数 )； 恳求，请求 | |
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40
statistic
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| n.统计量；adj.统计的，统计学的 | |
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succinct
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| adj.简明的，简洁的 | |
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invoice
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| vt.开发票；n.发票，装货清单 | |
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blister
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| n.水疱；(油漆等的)气泡；v.(使)起泡 | |
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specialty
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| n.(speciality)特性，特质；专业，专长 | |
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45
beeches
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| n.山毛榉( beech的名词复数 )；山毛榉木材 | |
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footpath
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| n.小路，人行道 | |
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animated
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| adj.生气勃勃的，活跃的，愉快的 | |
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cynical
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| adj.(对人性或动机)怀疑的，不信世道向善的 | |
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martyr
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| n.烈士，殉难者；vt.杀害，折磨，牺牲 | |
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condemned
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| adj. 被责难的, 被宣告有罪的 动词condemn的过去式和过去分词 | |
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51
flora
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| n.(某一地区的)植物群 | |
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bouquet
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| n.花束，酒香 | |
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warrior
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| n.勇士，武士，斗士 | |
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fresco
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| n.壁画；vt.作壁画于 | |
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virgin
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| n.处女，未婚女子；adj.未经使用的；未经开发的 | |
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larder
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| n.食物贮藏室，食品橱 | |
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inscription
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| n.（尤指石块上的）刻印文字，铭文，碑文 | |
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