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The Erlking

(German poem: Goethe, English translation and new music: Dolce)

 

Who rides so late through the windy night?
It's a father with a child;
He holds his son in his arms,
To keep the boy so close and warm.

"My son, why hide your face in fear?" ­
Father, don't you see the Erlking?
The Erlking's Crown and flowing Robe? ­
"My son, it's just a wisp of fog."

"O, you dear child, come along with me!
Such a lovely game we'll play!
Fragrant flowers the shores abound,
My mother's made you a Golden Gown ."

Father, father, do you not hear
What the Erlking has promised me ? ­
"Be quiet, my child, be still;
'Tis but the dry leaves rustling." ­

"Won't you come along with me, fine boy?
My girls will tend your keeping.
The Daughters dance such lullabies,
'Twill sing you off to sleeping."

O father, father, why can't you see
The Erlking's daughters dark and gay? ­
"My son, my son, there's no one there
But Willow trees twisted and grey."

"I love you, boy; your charming face;
But if you're not willing, then I'll use force."
Father, father, he's grabbing me!
The Erlking is hurting me! ­

The father shudders and rides so fast,
He holds his moaning child.
To the courtyard swiftly his horse has sped,
But in his arms . . . the child was dead.

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