“Has it never happened to you, my dear Miss Christy, in the course of your domestic
economy, to meet with a drawer stuffed so very, so extremely full, that it was very difficult to pull it open, however
desirous you might be to exhibit its contents? In case this miraculous event
has ever taken place, you may somewhat conceive from thence the cause of my
silence, which has really proceeded from my having a very great deal to
communi-
| MISS CARPENTER. | 273 |
| 274 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
| MISS CARPENTER. | 275 |
|
O, 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 doest thou fearfully gaze?’
‘O, ’tis the Erl-King with his crown and his
shroud.’—
‘No, my son, it is but a dark wreath of the
cloud.’
|
|
(The Erl-King
speaks.)
‘O, 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.’
|
|
Erl-King.
‘O 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?’—
‘O yes, my loved treasure, I knew it full soon,
It was the grey willow that danced to the moon.’
|
| 276 | LIFE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. |
|
Erl-King.
‘Oh come and go with me, no longer delay,
Or else, silly child, I will drag thee away.’—
‘Oh father! Oh father! now, now keep your hold,
The Erl-King has seized me—his grasp is so cold!’
|
|
Sore trembled the father, he spurr’d thro’ the
wild,
Clasping close to his bosom his shuddering child;
He reaches his dwelling in doubt and in dread,
But, clasp’d to his bosom, the infant was dead!”—
|
“You see I have not altogether lost the faculty of rhyming. I assure you there is no small impudence in attempting a version of that ballad, as it has been translated by Lewis. All good things be with you.
