You have to hand it Naxos: at a time when it might seem there can be no more unrecorded operas to go, they come forward with another rarity worth hearing. Lurline was less popular than William Vincent Wallace’s Maritana, released on the Marco Polo label in 1997, but it scored a significant success when it had its premiere at Covent Garden in 1860 and continued to be performed through to at least 1890. Wallace may not be an English Verdi but he kept the flag flying and won over local audiences.

The legend tells us that Lorelei was one of the Rhine maidens who lured sailors on to the rocks with their beautiful singing. Does this English version of the legend still lure us today? As if to hedge his bets, Wallace offers as many diverse musical styles as he can fit into one score. He is at his most captivating in Mendelssohn mode, when harp arpeggios cast an early romantic spell, as in Lurline’s entrance aria. Alongside this are lightly comic scenes among fusty nobles that presage Gilbert and Sullivan, a well planned concerted finale to Act 2 reminiscent of Donizetti, and – probably the main draw in Wallace’s day – a succession of easy-on-the-ear ballads. As drama, it all feels impossibly naive and rather stilted.

As so often, Richard Bonynge is the conductor who has sought out this rarity. Thirty years ago he would doubtless have had Joan Sutherland running up and down the coloratura in the title-role but Lurline is sung here by Sally Silver, whose gleaming tone suits well enough. Otherwise, the best of the cast are the baritones and basses, Donald Maxwell, David Soar and Roderick Earle, whose clear enunciation helps make the words intelligible (Naxos do not include a libretto). Keith Lewis sounds unaccountably tentative as the tenor lead, Rupert, and the Victorian Opera Chorus and Orchestra are only just up to the job. The theme of the third-act Entr’acte, which should soar on high strings, is scratchy and out of tune. Not the last word in performances then, but the only one we are likely to get.