Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and HobgoblinsVillamaria
Science
Fairy Circles: Tales and Legends of Giants, Dwarfs, Fairies, Water-Sprites, and Hobgoblins
Villamaria
Children's stories; Fairy tales; Legends
Nevertheless, it was no myth; the treasure still lay beneath the
waters. Not a crown, not a bracelet was lost; not a diamond had fallen
from the brilliant setting; for, as if held together by magic hand,
the jewels had remained firmly united; but wave after wave had rolled
on unceasingly, day and night, from year's end to year's end, and
softly and gradually the treasure had been pressed on further into the
bed of the river. The Wonnegau lay behind it; there the waves foamed,
whirling over the hidden reefs beneath, and further on towards the sea
they roared loudly against the walls of the Pfalzburg, then flowed
caressingly past the blooming vines which wound their clustered
garlands round the white cottages of the vine-dressers.
The treasure of the Nibelungen had been carried in safety, though
without any guiding hand, past all these different scenes, and the
waves had borne it further and further into the shadow of the bank,
bit by bit, until, after many years, it lay at the foot of a rock that
rose high and bold above the waves. The moonbeams wove a silver
garland round its granite brow, and for centuries tradition echoed
round its jagged peak; but a row of crags surrounded the foot of the
rock, and the foaming rage of the waves kept away even the boldest.
There into that deep rocky bed the waves bore the treasure, and now
it rested safely hidden at the foot of the Loreley rock.
But treasures which have once gleamed in the sunlight, and been
grasped by human hands, can never rest in darkness; they strive to
reach again the light of day and the warm living hand of man. Slowly
they rise from year to year, till at last they glow in the light of
the sun, and await a pure hand to set them free, to do good with their
riches, and so to expiate the guilt which was attached to them. It was
thus that the treasure of the Nibelungen pressed upwards. It rose
slowly, slowly, for sighs and blood and tears hung more heavily on it
than on other sunken hoards. But at last, about a thousand years after
that night when Haco threw the treasure into the stream, it had made
its way up through the water.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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