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Translated by James Clarence Mangan
SIR OLF rode fast towards Thurlston’s walls, | |
| To meet his bride in his father’s halls. | |
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| He saw blue lights flit over the graves; | |
| The elves came forth from their forest-caves. | |
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| They danced anear on the glossy strand, | 5 |
| And the Erl-King’s Daughter held out her hand. | |
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| “O, welcome, Sir Olf, to our jubilee! | |
| Step into the circle and dance with me.” | |
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| “I dare not dance, I dare not stay; | |
| To-morrow will be my nuptial-day.” | 10 |
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| “Two golden spurs will I give unto thee, | |
| And I pray thee, Sir Olf, to tarry with me.” | |
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| “I dare not tarry, I dare not delay, | |
| To-morrow is fixed for my nuptial-day.” | |
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| “Will give thee a shirt so white and fine, | 15 |
| Was bleached yestreen in the new moonshine.” | |
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| “I dare not hearken to Elf or Fay; | |
| To-morrow is fixed for my nuptial-day.” | |
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| “A measure of gold will I give unto thee, | |
| And I pray thee, Sir Olf, to dance with me.” | 20 |
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| “The measure of gold I will carry away, | |
| But I dare not dance, and I dare not stay.” | |
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| “Then, since thou wilt go, even go with a blight! | |
| A true-lover’s token I leave thee, Sir Knight.” | |
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| She lightly struck with her wand on his heart, | 25 |
| And he swooned and swooned from the deadly smart. | |
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| She lifted him up on his coal-black steed; | |
| “Now hie thee away with a fatal speed!” | |
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| Then shone the moon, and howled the wolf, | |
| And the sheen and the howl awoke Sir Olf. | 30 |
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| He rode over mead, he rode over moor, | |
| He rode till he rode to his own house-door. | |
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| Within sate, white as the marble, his bride, | |
| But his gray-haired mother stood watching outside. | |
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| “My son, my son, thou art haggard and wan; | 35 |
| Thy brow is the brow of a dying man.” | |
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| “And haggard and wan I well may be, | |
| For the Erl-King’s Daughter hath wounded me.” | |
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| “I pray thee, my son, dismount and bide: | |
| There is mist on the eyes of thy pining bride.” | 40 |
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| “O mother, I should but drop dead from my steed; | |
| I will wander abroad for the strength I need.” | |
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| “And what shall I tell thy bride, my son, | |
| When the morning dawns and the tiring is done?” | |
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| “O, tell my bride that I rode to the wood, | 45 |
| With my hound in leash and my hawk in hood.” | |
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| When morning dawned with crimson and gray, | |
| The bride came forth in her wedding array. | |
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| They poured out mead, they poured out wine: | |
| “Now, where is thy son, O goldmother mine?” | 50 |
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| “My son, golddaughter, rode into the wood, | |
| With his hounds in leash and his hawk in hood.” | |
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| Then the bride grew sick with an ominous dread,— | |
| “O, woe is me, Sir Olf is dead.” | |
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| She drooped like a lily that feels the blast, | 55 |
| She drooped, and drooped, till she died at last. | |
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| They rest in the charnel side by side, | |
| The stricken Sir Olf and his faithful bride. | |
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| But the Erl-King’s Daughter dances still, | |
| When the moonlight sleeps on the frosted hill. | 60 |
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