The castled crag of Drachenfels Frowns o’er the wide and winding Rhine, Whose breast of waters broadly swells Between the banks which bear the vine, And hills all rich with blossom’d trees, And fields which promise corn and wine:— And scatter’d cities crowning these Whose far white walls along them shine. The river nobly foams and flows, The charm of this enchanted ground, And all its thousand turns disclose Some fresher beauty varying round! The haughtiest breast its wish might bound, Through life to dwell delighted here Nor could on earth a spot be found To Nature and to me more dear. From this spot the ruined tower of Godesberg, all lonely on a conical mount, looks like a solitary vidette on his out-post, while the seven mountains around us— ——like giants stand To sentinel enchanted land. It is here that the poetry of the Rhine commences, together with its legendary lore, and romantic scenery. After a comfortable breakfast at the Eagle’s Nest Inn, and a slight survey of the topography of the rock’s narrow crown, I climbed to the highest practicable part of the ruin, and seating myself securely, had several hours of leisure to contemplate the scene, and indulge in meditation. On former occasions, I had read the legends of the Rhine, while wandering on its banks, more for amusement than instruction, yet it never till now crossed my mind that, in the comparatively rude ages when they were written, they might have been _intended_, each to convey some moral lesson. The more I reflected on this subject, the more I was impressed with the idea, and, at all events, I determined to try my hand at the extraction of a moral from each tale, whether such moral were originally intended or not. I could not do better than begin with the— LEGEND OF THE DRACHENFELS. (_No. 1._)