I know not what it presages
That I am so sad to-day;
A legend of far-off ages
Will not from my thoughts away.

The air is cool and darkling,
Unruffled flows the Rhine;
The crest of the mountain is sparkling,
The evening sunbeams shine.

There sits on that summit olden
A maiden strangely fair;
Bright flash her jewels golden,
She combs her golden hair.

As she combs that golden treasure
Her song peals from the height;
A wild mysterious measure,
Of overpowering might!

The boatman his shallop steering
It thrills with a wild unrest;
He sees not the reef he is nearing,
He sees but that mountain crest.

I know that full soon the eddy.
Engulfed both sailor and skiff,
And this was the work of the Lorlei
Who sang to him from the cliff.