Some stories have immeasurably sorrowful ones.

oil on canvass, 2007,   by Lili Bernard
The Erlking
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 dost 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."
"O come and go with me, thou loveliest child;
        By many a gay sport   shall thy time be beguiled;
        My mother keeps for thee 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."
"O wilt   thou go with me, thou loveliest boy?
        My daughter shall tend thee with care   and with joy;
        She shall bear three 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."
"O 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 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.
Translated by Sir Walter Scott (1771-1832) from Johann Goethe's Der Erlkönig.
 
 

 
 
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