"St. Gaar" [section title]
[ST GOAR] a
"St. Goar" [poem]
ST. GOAR. b
PAST a rock with frowning front,
Wrinkled by the tempestʼs brunt,
By the Rhine we downward bore
Upon the village of St. Goar.
Bosomed deep among the hills,
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Here old Rhine his current stills,
Loitering the banks between,
As if, enamoured of the scene,
He had forgot his onward way
For a live‐long summer day.
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Grim the crags through whose dark cleft,
Behind, he hath a passage reft;
While, gaunt as gorge of hunted boar,
Dark yawns the foaming pass before,
Where the tormented waters rage,
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Like demons in their Stygian cage,
In giddy eddies whirling round
With a sullen choking sound; 1
Or flinging far the scattering spray,
Oʼer the peaked rocks that bar his way.
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—No marvel that the spell‐bound Rhine,
Like giant overcome with wine,
Should here relax his angry frown,
And, soothed to slumber, lay him down
Amid the vine‐clad banks, that lave
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Their tresses in his placid wave.
"St. Goar" [essay]
St. Goar is the least and sweetest place on all the Rhine. There is
Godesberg with its hilltop crested with ruins, there is Andernacht with its
venerable remains of antiquity, there is Ehrenbreitstein upon whose cliff
never traitor stood, looking out far away over its rich sea of champaign,
yet there is nothing like St. Goar. It has a lone hill beauty, the little
scene around it is exceedingly small, but it has a modest secluded loveli‐
ness. You look on Andernacht with veneration, on Ehrenbreitstein with
awe, but on St. Goar with love. 2
There is a voice in all nature. List to the rave of the mad sea; speaks
it not eloquently; does it not tell of its green weedy caverns and its coral
towers, and the high hills and shelly vallies far, far beneath its cold blue? 3

List to the song of the summer breeze; does it not tell of the blue heavens,
and the white clouds and other climes, and other seasons, and spicy gales,
and myrtle bowers, and sweet things far away? How sweetly the Rhine
sings at St. Goar, and it tells of the arched grottoes of the glacier, and
the crags of the far Alps, and how it joys to dash against tall rocks once
more.