The ErlKing

Who rides so late through the wind and night? It’s a father with his child so light: He clasps the boy close in his arms, Holds him fast, and keeps him warm. ‘My son, why hide your face, all scared? – ‘Don’t you see, Father, the Erlking’s there, The Alder-King with his crown and robe?’ – ‘My son, it’s the trail of mist that flows’. – ‘Come, dear child, come along with me! The games we’ll play will be fine and lovely: There’s many a bright flower by the water, Many gold garments has my Mother.’ ‘And Father, my Father, can’t you hear What the Erlking’s whispering in my ear?’ – ‘Peace, peace, my child, you’re listening To those dry leaves rustling in the wind.’- ‘Fine lad, won’t you come along with me? My lovely daughters your slaves shall be: My daughters dance every night, and they Will rock you, sing you, dance you away.’ ‘And Father, my Father, can’t you see where The Erlking’s daughters stand shadowy there? – ‘My Son, my Son, I can see them plain: It’s the ancient Willow-trees shining grey.’ ‘I love you, I’m charmed by your lovely form: And if you’re not willing, I’ll have to use force.’ ‘Father, my Father, he’s gripped me at last! The Erlking’s hurting me, holding me fast! – The Father shudders, faster he rides, Holding the moaning child so tight, Reaching the house, in fear and dread: But in his arms the child lies dead.