“By instructing your miners to work in the mine during the hours of morning only,” replied the gnome.  “By so doing I and my brothers will obtain the rest we so much require.”

“It shall be as you say,” said Kuno; “you have my word for it, good friend.”

“In that case,” said the earth-spirit, “we shall assist you in turn.  Go to the castle of Falkenstein after dawn to-morrow morning, and you shall witness the result of our friendship and gratitude.”

Next morning the sun had scarcely risen when Kuno saddled his steed and hied him to the heights of Falkenstein.  The gnome had kept his word.  There, above and in front of him, he beheld a wide and lofty roadway leading to the castle-gate from the thoroughfare below.  With joy in his heart he set spurs to his horse and dashed up the steep but smooth acclivity.  At the gate he encountered the old Lord of Falkenstein and his daughter, who had been apprised of the miracle that had happened and had come out to view the new roadway.  The knight of Sayn related his adventure with the earth-spirit, upon which the Lord of Falkenstein told him how a terrible thunderstorm mingled with unearthly noises had raged throughout the night.  Terrified, he and his daughter had spent the hours of darkness in prayer, until with the approach of dawn some of the servitors had plucked up courage and ventured forth, when the wonderful avenue up the side of the mountain met their startled gaze.

Kuno and his lady-love were duly united.  Indeed, so terrified was the old lord by the supernatural manifestations of the dreadful night he had just passed through that he was incapable of further resistance to the wishes of the young people.  The wonderful road is still to be seen, and is marvelled at by all who pass that way.

Osric the Lion

Other tales besides the foregoing have their scene laid in the castle of Falkenstein, notable among them being the legend of Osric the Lion, embodied in the following weird ballad from the pen of Monk Lewis: 

     Swift roll the Rhine’s billows, and water the plains,
     Where Falkenstein Castle’s majestic remains
     Their moss-covered turrets still rear: 
     Oft loves the gaunt wolf ’midst the ruins to prowl,
     What time from the battlements pours the lone owl
     Her plaints in the passenger’s ear.

     No longer resound through the vaults of yon hall
     The song of the minstrel, and mirth of the ball;
     Those pleasures for ever are fled: 
     There now dwells the bat with her light-shunning brood,
     There ravens and vultures now clamour for food,
     And all is dark, silent, and dread!

     Ha! dost thou not see, by the moon’s trembling light
     Directing his steps, where advances a knight,
     His eye big with vengeance and fate? 
     ’Tis Osric the Lion his nephew who leads,
     And swift up the crackling old staircase proceeds,
     Gains the hall, and quick closes the gate.