Solo (Soprano)
Elf-folk! Elf-folk! Elf-folk!
Come join in the dance with your sisters! 
See how the stars glow shimm'ringly,
Join in the dance 'mid the flow'rs and moonbeams,
For Erlking's daughter is waiting for thee!
Fireflies are beating the time of the measure,
Wood-nymphs are leaping and laughing with glee;
The wild-wood is rife with the trophies of springtime,
And Erlking's daughter is waiting for thee!
Elf-folk, Elf-folk, Elf-folk, come!

Chorus
Beneath our fairy feet
The sward, like jewels bright,
Gleams like a diadem
Lit by the pale moonlight.

Like startled will-o'-wisp,
The flowers bend and nod,
And sway in rhythmic grace,
As in the dance we trod.

The gaudy blooms of day
Mere shadows seem by night,
While soft and clearly glow
The blossoms that are white.

The dance grows mad with joy;
The katydids come out,
And play upon their Autes,
As here we skip about.

What sound falls on our ears?
A mortal near doth ride!
Haste, elves and nymphs, away,
Among the flowers let's hide!

Solo (Baritone)
What ho, my steed! Why tremble and stand still?
Do shadowy moonbeams thee with terror fil?
Art thou grown weary?  Or perchance
Did'st see the elf-folk in the glen hard by?
Or didst thou hear the Erlking's daughter cry, 
Who lures men to their death in dance?
— Ha, ha!
Elves, nymphs and fays lived in the days of yore,
And men of flesh and blood see them no more.

On either side, why wildly glance?
Come, let us rest by yonder ancient tree,
Where I may sit and ponder tranquilly.
Weary am I, but full of joy this night,
For since the dawn I have travelled far and wide
The guests unto my wedding to invite,
And on the morrow I shall claim my bride.

Come, oh hasten, dawn!
Lift up your cloak of gray!
Sun, in thy chariot come,
Drive night away!

O Realm of Love, I stand upon thy brink,
And hesitate for fear I am not fit
To enter in thy citadel, and drink
This trembling cup of joy so exquisite!
Like a lone pilgrim at the temple door,
I wait the coming of the priest and day,
That I may enter and my off'ring pour
Upon the shrine, and fold my hands and pray.
May I not hope that this great love of thine
May on the morrow put forth fragrant flowers,
As did the pilgrim's staff before the shrine
Where the great Pope denied contrition's powers?
Come, wondrous love! come in thy perfect truth! 
I yield to thee my passion and my youth!

Chorus
Sir Oluf, the Elf-folk call to thee!
The fairies now advance
And bid thee join the dance;
The Erlking's daughter fair
Will be thy partner there.

Solo (Baritone)
How sweet the evening breeze is singing 'mid the leaves.-
What voice is calling me?

Solo (Soprano)
Now welcome, Sir Oluf, come dance with me,
These two spurs of gold I now offer to thee.

Solo (Baritone)
Nay, nay, lovely maiden, I must haste away,
For know ye, to-morrow is my weddingday.

Chorus
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
The dance doth now begin.
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
We pray thee, enter in.

Solo (Soprano)
Come nearer, Sir Oluf, see what I now bring:
A doublet of heather, a goss'mery thing.
"Twas bleached by my mother beneath the moonshine,
And naught in all Elf-land is one-half so fine.

Solo (Baritone)
Nay, nay, lovely maiden, I fain would receive
A garment so fine of such delicate weave,
But I must be going, I must not delay; 
For know ye, to-morrow is my wedding-day.

Chorus
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
The dance doth wait for thee.
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
Pray, why so tardy be?

Solo (Soprano)
Come nearer, Sir Oluf, see what my hands hold:
A heap of the fairest and purest of gold.

Solo (Baritone)
The gold, it were welcome, alas, lovely fay,
But know ye, to-morrow is my wedding-day.
Thou art indeed lovely, and rare is thy charm,
But well do I know thou wouldst do me some harm.
Return to thy Elf-band, there dance thou thy fill,
Because to dance with thee I care not, nor will!

Chorus
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
O woe betide thy fate!
Sir Oluf! Sir Oluf! 
Retract before too late!

Solo (Soprano)
Begone, brave Sir Oluf, if thus you scorn me,
But take, as the giit I now offer to thee,
A blow on thy heart, and then hasten away,
For thou shalt be dead ere the dawn of the day!

Solo (Baritone)
Ah! Woе!

Sir Oluf (with Chorus)
Hasten away, hasten, my steed!
Haste to my castle with utmost of speed!
My mother stands there at the gate,
And trembling with dread, in fear doth await.
She wonders why I tarry so
Thither, my steed, more rapidly go!
My span of life is almost o'er,
Haste! I would fain see my castle once more.
Soon will the dawn redden the sky;
I have a message to leave ere I die.
The wedding-guests will come at morn,
And the mead will flow from horn to horn;
Alas! I shall no welcome show
To my wedding-guests in the day's fresh glow,
Nor greet my bride, with blushes red;
For I, Sir Oluf, shall be dead!

Chorus
Hasten away, hasten thy steed,
Haste to thy castle with utmost of speed!
Thy mother stands there at the gate,
And trembling with dread, in fear doth await.
She wonders why you tarry so,
Thither, thy steed, more rapidly go!
Thy span of life is almost o'er,
Haste, if thou'dst fain see thy castle once more.
Soon will the dawn redden the sky;
You have a message to leave ere you die.
The wedding-guests will come at morn,
And the mead will flow from horn to horn;
Alas! Thou canst no welcome show
To thy wedding-guests in the day's fresh glow,
Nor greet thy bride, with blushes red;
For thou, Sir Oluf, shalt be dead!
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha! Ah!