The elves' ride

In the forest moonbeam-brightened,

Late last night the elves were riding,

Horns and silver bells resounded

As their throng went past me gliding.

From the foreheads of their horses

Golden antlers were extending,

Swiftly, through the air, like swan-birds

They their rapid way were wending.

Graciously the elf queen beckoned,

On her palfrey backward leaning; --

Did she smile at my new passion,

Or was doom and death her meaning?