e, and with it the Emperor had no difficulty in raising
another army. Such was the courage and confidence of his new troops that
the first battle they fought resulted in victory. But the most valiant
stand was made by the erstwhile charcoal-burner, who found on that field
the opportunity of which he had long dreamt. The Emperor showed his
recognition of the gallant services by knighting the young man on the
field of battle. On the eminence whither the old hermit had led him the
knight built a castle which was occupied by himself and his successors
for many generations.

And thus did the charcoal-burner become the knight of Zaehringen, the
friend of his Emperor, the first of a long line of illustrious knights,
honoured and exalted beyond his wildest dreams.

Conclusion

With this legend we close on a brighter and more hopeful note than
is usually associated with legends of the Rhine. The reader may have
observed in perusing these romances how closely they mirror their
several environments. For the most part those which are gay and buoyant
in spirit have for the places of their birth slopes where is prisoned
the sunshine which later sparkles in the wine-cup and inspires song
and cheerfulness. Those, again, which are sombre and tragic have as
background the gloomy forest, the dark and windy promontory which
overhangs the darker river, or the secluded nunnery. In such
surroundings is fostered the germ of tragedy, that feeling of the
inevitable which is inherent in all great literature. It is to a tragic
imagination of a lofty type that we are indebted for the greatest of
these legends, and he who cannot appreciate their background of gloomy
grandeur will never come at the true spirit of that mighty literature of
Germany, at once the joy and the despair of all who know it.

Countless songs, warlike and tender, sad and passionate, have been
penned on the river whose deathless tales we have been privileged to
display to the reader. But no such strains of regret upon abandoning
its shores have been sung as those which passed the lips of the English
poet, Byron, and it is fitting that this book should end with lines so
appropriate:

Adieu to thee, fair Rhine! How long delighted
The stranger fain would linger on his way!
Thine is a scene alike where souls united
Or lonely Contemplation thus might stray;
And could the ceaseless vultures cease to prey
On self-condemning bosoms, it were here,