world of
insects buzzes about him, the air shimmers in the bright sunlight,
flowers shed their perfume; everything about him lives a murmuring
life in tones that seem to enhance the peace of nature, far from the
haunts of men.

As tranquil as are the clouds that pass by, as peaceful as is the mood
of nature, as luxurious as are the flowers that spread their
fragrance, so tranquil and calm must be the breathing of the singer,
which draws the long phrases of the song over the chords of the
accompaniment, and brings before us in words and tones the picture of
the warm peace of summer in nature, and the radiant being of a man
dissolved within it.

I mark the breathing places with _V_. "Ich liege still im Nohen gruenen
Gras _V_ und sende lange meinen Blick _V_ nach oben _V_ [and again
comfortably, calmly] nach oben.

"Von Grillen rings umschwaermt _V_ ohn' Unterlass _V_ von Himmelsblaeue
wundersam umwoben _V_ von Himmelsblaeue _V_ _wundersam umwoben_."

Each tone, each letter, is connected closely with the preceding and
following; the expression of the eyes and of the soul should be
appropriate to that of the glorified peace of nature and of the soul's
happiness. The last phrase should soar tenderly, saturated with a warm
and soulful coloring.

"Die schoenen weissen Wolken zieh'n dahin _V_ durch's _tiefe_ Blau _V_,
[I gaze at it for a moment] wie schoene, stille Traeume _V_ [losing
one's self] wie schoene stille Traeume. _V_ [A feeling of dissolution
takes away every thought of living and being.] Mir ist _V_ als ob _V_
ich laengst _V_ gestorben bin! [The whole being is dissolved in the
ether; the end comes with outstretched wings soaring above the earth.]
und ziehe selig mit _V_ durch ew'ge Raeume _V_ und ziehe selig mit _V_
durch ew'ge Raeume. [Dissolution of the soul in the universe must sound
forth from the singer's tone.]

_"The Erlking," by Schubert._

For him who is familiar with our native legends and tales, the willows
and alders in the fields and by the brooks are peopled with hidden
beings, fairies, and witches. They stretch out ghostly arms, as their
veils wave over their loose hair, they bow, cower, raise themselves,
become as big as giants or as little as dwarfs. They seem to lie in
wait for the weak, to fill them with fright.

The father, however, who rides with his child through the night and
the wind, is a man, no ghost; and his faithful steed, that carries
both, no phantom. The picture is present