Stevenson, Robert L
    Kidnapped
    The Strange Case of Dr Jekyll and Mr Hyde
    Treasure Island

Stoker, Bram
    Dracula

Wilde, Oscar
    Picture of Dorian Gray

Bronte, Charlotte
    Jane Eyre
    Villette

Bronte, Emily
    Wuthering Heights

Tyger Tyger, burning bright,
In the forests of the night;
What immortal hand or eye,
Could frame thy fearful symmetry

In what distant deeps or skies.
Burnt the fire of thine eyes!
On what wings dare he aspire?
What the hand, dare sieze the fire!

And what shoulder, & what art.
Could twist the sinews of thy heart?
And when thy heart began to beat,
What dread hand! & what dread feet!

What the hammer! what the chain,
In what furnace was thy brain
What the anvil, what dread grasp,
Dare its deadly terrors clasp!

When the stars threw down their spear
And water'd heaven with their tears:
Did he smile his work to see
Did he who made the Lamb make thee!

Tyger Tyger burning bright,
In the forests of the night:
What immortal hand or eye,
Dare frame thy fearful symmetry!

He who dwells in the shelter of the Most High
will rest in the shadow of the Almighty.
I will say of the Lord, "He is my refuge and my fortress,
my God, in whom I trust."

Surely he will save you from the fowler's snare
and from the deadly pestilence.
He will cover you with his feathers,
and under his wings you will find refuge;
his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.

You will not fear the terror of night,
nor the arrow that flies by day,
nor the pestilence that stalks in the darkness
nor the plague that destroys at midday.

A thousand may fall at your side,
ten thousand at your right hand,
but it will not come near you.
You will only observe with your eyes
and see the punishment of the wicked.

If you make the Most High your dwelling --
even the Lord, who is my refuge --
then no harm will befall you,
no disaster will come near your tent.

For he will command his angels concerning you
to guard you in all your ways;
they will lift you up in their hands,
so that you will not strike your foot against a stone.
You will tread upon the lion and the cobra;
you will trample the great lion and the serpent.

"Because he loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him;
I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name.
He will call upon me, and I will answer him;
I will be with him in trouble,
I will deliver him and honor him.
With long life will I satisfy him
and show him my salvation."

Henry Fuseli  The Nightmare (Incubus) 1781-82
located in Detroit
Fuseli was born Swiss and then moved and worked in England

The Nightmare (Incubus) 1781-82
located in Freies Deutsches Hochstift,Frankfurt-am-Main.
English, Romanticism,
Fuseli was born Swiss and then moved and worked in England

Wer reitet so spät durch Nacht und Wind?
Es ist der Vater mit seinem Kind;
Er hat den Knaben wohl in dem Arm,
Er faßt ihn sicher, er hält ihn warm.
 

Mein Sohn, was birgst du so bang dein Gesicht?--
Siehst, Vater, du den Erlkönig nicht?
Den Erlenkönig mit Kron und Schweif?--
Mein Sohn, es ist ein Nebelstreif.--
 

«Du liebes Kind, komm, geh mit mir!
Gar schöne Spiele spiel ich mit dir;
Manch bunte Blumen sind an dem Strand,
Meine Mutter hat manch gülden Gewand.»
 

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und hörest du nicht,
Was Erlenkönig mir leise verspricht?--
Sei ruhig, bleibe ruhig, mein Kind;
In dürren Blättern säuselt der Wind.--
 

«Willst, feiner Knabe, du mit mir gehn?
Meine Töchter sollen dich warten schön;
Meine Töchter führen den nächtlichen Reihn,
Und wiegen und tanzen und singen dich ein.»
 
 
 
 

Mein Vater, mein Vater, und siehst du nicht dort
Erlkönigs Töchter am düstern Ort?--
Mein Sohn, mein Sohn, ich seh es genau:
Es scheinen die alten Weiden so grau.--
 

«Ich liebe dich, mich reizt deine schöne Gestalt;
Und bist du nicht willig, so brauch ich Gewalt.»
Mein Vater, mein Vater, jetzt faßt er mich an!
Erlkönig hat mir ein Leids getan!--
 

Dem Vater grausets, er reitet geschwind,
Er hält in Armen das ächzende Kind,
Erreicht den Hof mit Mühe und Not;
In seinen Armen das Kind war tot.

Who rides through the night o'er woodland wild?
It is a father with his young child;
The boy lies folded, close in his arm
He holds him steady and safe from harm..
 

"My son, thou hidest thy face as in fear?"
"The Erl King father, see he is near!
With Crown and Sceptre and snow white shroud"
"My son, 'tis but a passing cloud."
 

"My gentle boy, Oh come with me;
I'll sport and play the day long with thee
And wondrous flowers shalt thou behold
And a garment shalt thou wear all of Gold."
 
 

"My father, my father, Oh dost thou not hear
What Erl-King whispers so soft in mine ear?"
"Nay, fear not, it is nothing my child,
The leaves but rustle sharp o'er the wild."
 

"Thou gentle boy wilt thou with me go
My daughters all pretty pastimes know,
My daughters nightly their gay revels keep,
They'll dance and they'll sing and they'll rock thee to sleep.
They'll dance and they'll sing and they'll rock thee to sleep."
 

"My father, my father, I feel sore afraid
See Erl-King's daughters in yon dark shade!"
"My son, my son, I see it full well;
The grey knotted willows bend to the gale."
 
 

"I love thee, child, in vain wouldst thou now be perverse,
For if thou'rt not willing, I'll take thee by force"
"My father! My father! His cold hand I feel
Erl-King has hurt me; With grasp of steel"
 

The fa-ther shudd'ring; gives spur to his steed,
Holds fast his darling and groans in his need,
He reached his home in doubt and dread,
Within his fond arms the child lay dead.