As we passed Boppart, I sought out the Inn of the "Star," mentioned in
"Hyperion"; there was a maiden sitting on the steps who might have been
Paul Flemming's fair boat-woman. The clouds which had here gathered
among the hills, now came over the river, and the rain cleared the deck
of its crowd of admiring tourists. As we were approaching Lurlei Berg, I
did not go below, and so enjoyed some of the finest scenery on the Rhine
alone. The mountains approach each other at this point, and the Lurlei
Rock rises up for six hundred feet from the water. This is the haunt of
the water nymph, Lurlei, whose song charmed the ear of the boatman while
his barque was dashed to pieces on the rocks below. It is also
celebrated for its remarkable echo. As we passed between the rocks, a
guard, who has a little house built on the road-side, blew a flourish on
his bugle, which was instantly answered by a blast from the rocky
battlements of Lurlei. The German students have a witty trick with this
echo: they call out, "Who is the Burgomaster of Oberwesel?" a town just
above. The echo answers with the last syllable "Esel!" which is the
German for _ass_.

The sun came out of the cloud as we passed Oberwesel, with its tall
round tower, and the light shining through the ruined arches of
Schonberg castle, made broad bars of light and shade in the still misty
air. A rainbow sprang up out of the Rhine, and lay brightly on the
mountain side, coloring vineyard and crag, in the most singular beauty,
while its second reflection faintly arched like a glory above the high
summits. In the bed of the river were the seven countesses of Schonberg,
turned into seven rocks for their cruelty and hard-heartedness towards
the knights whom their beauty had made captive. In front, at a little
distance was the castle of Pfalz, in the middle of the river, and from
the heights above Caub frowned the crumbling citadel of Gutenfels.