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!
Sir Walter Scott, from Goethe
THE FAIRY THORN
AN ULSTER BALLAD
“Get up, our Anna dear, from the weary spinning-wheel;