The Fisherman of the Graun-see

In following the valley of Etsch, and after leaving the village of

Haid, the traveller arrives first at the lake called Haider-See, and

then in about an hour’s walking on the borders of the Graun-See,

above which on the side of the mountain, lies, in a most picturesque

situation, the little hamlet of Graun. There every garrulous old woman

or little village child can tell him how often when evening sets in the

fairies have been seen floating like flickering candles round the lofty

peak above, or heard singing sweetly on calm moonlight nights before

the entrance to their caves. This spot on the mountain bears to the

present day the name of Zur Salig (to the holy ones).

On a beautiful autumn evening some forty years ago, a fisherman in

his little barque was setting his nets in the See. The night was mild

and beautiful, and the air so clear and pure that he could distinctly

hear the sheep-bells on the surrounding mountains, and the Angelus as

it rang from the hamlets of Reschen, Graun, Haid, even as far as the

distant village of Burgeis; and the sound of the bells of the monastery

of Sancta Maria, which lies above it, came wafting solemnly and softly

over the water. The moon rose slowly in silent majesty above the

surrounding mountains, lighting up every distant peak, and turning the

lake into a bed of liquid silver, and as the distant song of the Holy

Fräulein struck the ear of the poor fisherman, he abandoned his nets

and listened entranced.

The moonlight faded slowly away, and the darkness of night set in, yet

still he remained motionless in his boat, dreaming of the angel’s song

he had heard from Heaven. Morning broke, and still he sat there with

his hand on the rudder, and his eyes riveted on the abode of the Holy

Ones. His comrades came and called him, but he did not answer; they

went to him and found him dead. He lies buried in the little churchyard

of Graun, and every villager can point out his grave.