From the German by Sir Theodore Martin and William Edmondstoune Aytoun
WHO rides so late through the midnight blast?
’T is a father spurs on with his child full fast;
He gathers the boy well into his arm,
He clasps him close and he keeps him warm.
“My son, why thus to my arm dost cling?”—
“Father, dost thou not see the elfin-king?
The...