[Illustration: “I FEAR NOT SIGN,” QUOTH THE GRISLY ELF, “THAT IS MADE WITH BLOODY HANDS”]
“It was between the night and day, When the Fairy King has power, That I sunk down in a sinful fray, And ’twixt life and death, was snatched away To the joyless Elfin Bower.
“But wist I of a woman bold, Who thrice my brow durst sign, I might regain my mortal mould, As fair a form as thine.”
She crossed him once, she crossed him twice-- That Lady was so brave; The fouler grew his goblin hue, The darker grew the cave.
She crossed him thrice, that Lady bold; He rose beneath her hand The fairest Knight on Scottish mould Her brother, Ethert Brand!
Merry it is in good Greenwood, When the mavis and merle are singing, But merrier were they in Dunfermline grey, When all the bells were ringing.
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! 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 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! 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 was _dead_!