THE ERL-KING
Oh!who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild?It is the fond father embracing his child;And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,To hold himself fast and to keep himself warm.“O Father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says:“My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?”—“Oh! ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud,”—“No, my Son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”
Oh!who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild?It is the fond father embracing his child;And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,To hold himself fast and to keep himself warm.“O Father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says:“My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?”—“Oh! ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud,”—“No, my Son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”
Oh!who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild?It is the fond father embracing his child;And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,To hold himself fast and to keep himself warm.
Oh!who rides by night thro’ the woodland so wild?
It is the fond father embracing his child;
And close the boy nestles within his loved arm,
To hold himself fast and to keep himself warm.
“O Father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says:“My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?”—“Oh! ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud,”—“No, my Son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”
“O Father, see yonder! see yonder!” he says:
“My boy, upon what dost thou fearfully gaze?”—
“Oh! ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his shroud,”—
“No, my Son, it is but a dark wreath of the cloud.”
“Oh! come and go with me, thou loveliest child;By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.”“O Father, my Father! and did you not hearThe Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—“Be still, my heart’s darling—my child, be at ease;It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.”
“Oh! come and go with me, thou loveliest child;By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.”“O Father, my Father! and did you not hearThe Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—“Be still, my heart’s darling—my child, be at ease;It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.”
“Oh! come and go with me, thou loveliest child;By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.”
“Oh! come and go with me, thou loveliest child;
By many a gay sport shall thy time be beguiled;
My mother keeps for thee full many a fair toy,
And many a fine flower shall she pluck for my boy.”
“O Father, my Father! and did you not hearThe Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—“Be still, my heart’s darling—my child, be at ease;It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.”
“O Father, my Father! and did you not hear
The Erl-King whisper so low in my ear?”—
“Be still, my heart’s darling—my child, be at ease;
It was but the wild blast as it sung thro’ the trees.”
“Oh! wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild,And press thee and kiss thee and sing to my child.”“O Father, my Father, and saw you not plain,The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?”——“Oh, yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon:It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.”
“Oh! wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild,And press thee and kiss thee and sing to my child.”“O Father, my Father, and saw you not plain,The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?”——“Oh, yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon:It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.”
“Oh! wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild,And press thee and kiss thee and sing to my child.”
“Oh! wilt thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
My daughter shall tend thee with care and with joy;
She shall bear thee so lightly thro’ wet and thro’ wild,
And press thee and kiss thee and sing to my child.”
“O Father, my Father, and saw you not plain,The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?”——“Oh, yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon:It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.”
“O Father, my Father, and saw you not plain,
The Erl-King’s pale daughter glide past thro’ the rain?”——
“Oh, yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon:
It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.”
“Oh! come and go with me, no longer delay,Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.”—“O Father! O Father! now, now keep your hold,The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!”Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro’ the wild,Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,But, clasped to his bosom, the infant wasdead!
“Oh! come and go with me, no longer delay,Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.”—“O Father! O Father! now, now keep your hold,The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!”Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro’ the wild,Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,But, clasped to his bosom, the infant wasdead!
“Oh! come and go with me, no longer delay,Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.”—
“Oh! come and go with me, no longer delay,
Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.”—
“O Father! O Father! now, now keep your hold,The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!”
“O Father! O Father! now, now keep your hold,
The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!”
Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro’ the wild,Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,But, clasped to his bosom, the infant wasdead!
Sore trembled the father; he spurred thro’ the wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;
He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,
But, clasped to his bosom, the infant wasdead!
Sir Walter Scott, from Goethe