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Count Herman, near the enchanted rock,
Hidden within a secret nook,
His eyes raised tenderly above,
In sweetest accents told his love.


And while he sang, behold! there came
Upon the rock a lambent flame
Of clearest light; and, as it thickened
Towards the centre, his pulses quickened,


For in the encircling wreaths of light,
O joy! he saw the vision bright
Of Lore, listening, and beckoning him.
Then his earthly sight grew dim.


A mystic charm from that strange hour
Drew his steps to the enchanted bower;
And oft he gazed in visions airy
On the form of the lovely fairy.


But earthly bliss must have an ending,
To nightly spurs his steps were tending,
The which to gain he must be sent
To the imperial encampment.


His heart grew sad at thought of Lore,
He would, he said, see her once more;
So with his squire he entered a boat,
And to the enchantress did float.


He softly sung his sad farewell.
She round him was weaving her spell.
When he finished the last sweet note,
The waves rolled high above the boat.


Bright on the rock the fairy stood,
Waving her wand above the flood.
Till nought on earth that boat could save;
Count Herman sank beneath the wave.


The fairy was seen by mortal no more;
But a voice she gave to that rocky shore,
And when the moon sheds her silvery light,
A sweet song is heard in the stillness of night.