The terrified messengers returned to the count, bringing him the tidings of this wonderful event.
Ronald, whose body a chance wave had washed up on the banks of the river, was deeply mourned throughout the country.
From this time forth, the Lorelei was never seen again. Only when night sheds her dark shadow on the hills, and the pale moon weaves a silver bridge over the deep green stream, then the voice of a woman, soft and low, is heard echoing from the weird heights of the rocks.
The Lorelei has vanished, but her charm still remains.
Thou canst find it, O Wanderer, in the eyes of the maidens near the Rhine. It blooms on their cheeks, it lingers on their rosy lips, there thou wilt find its traces.
Arm thy heart, steel thy will, blindfold thine eye!
As a poet of the Rhine once wisely and warningly sang, "My son, my son, beware of the Rhine...."
The Lorelei has vanished, but her charm still remains.
