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Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to- | And see! the lady Christabel morrow,
Gathers herself from out her trance; This mark of my shame, this seal of my Her limbs relax, her countenance sorrow;
Grows sad and soft; the smooth thin lids But vainly thou warrest,
Close o'er her eyes; and tears she For this is alone in
sheds Thy power to declare,
Large tears that leave the lashes bright!
And oft the while she seems to smile
Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep, And didst bring her home with thee in love Like a youthful hermitess, and in charity,
Beauteous in a wilderness,
And, if she move unquietly,
Perchance, 't is but the blood so free THE CONCLUSION TO PART THE FIRST
Comes back and tingles in her feet.
No doubt, she bath a vision sweet. It was a lovely sight to see
What if her guardian spirit 't were, The lady Christabel, when she
What if she knew her mother near ?
But this she knows, in joys and woes,
That saints will aid if men will call :
For the blue sky bends over all !
To make her gentle vows;
PART THE SECOND Heaving sometimes on her breast;
(Written 1800] Her face resigned to bliss or bale Her face, ob call it fair not pale,
Each matin bell, the Baron saith, And both blue eyes more bright than Knells us back to a world of death. clear,
These words Sir Leoline first said, Each about to have a tear.
When he rose and found his lady dead :
These words Sir Leoline will say
Many a morn to his dying day!
And hence the custom and law began
That still at dawn the sacristan, O sorrow and shame! Can this be she, Who duly pulls the heavy bell, The lady, who knelt at the old oak tree? Five and forty beads must tell And lo! the worker of these barms,
Between each stroke - a warning knell, That holds the maiden in her arms,
Which not a soul can choose but hear Seems to slumber still and mild,
From Bratha Head to Wyndermere. As a mother with her child.
Saith Bracy the bard, So let it knell ! A star hath set, a star hath risen,
And let the drowsy sacristan O Geraldine! since arms of thine
Still count as slowly as he can ! Have been the lovely lady's prison.
There is no lack of such, I ween, O Geraldine ! one hour was thine
As well fill up the space between. Thou 'st had thy will! By tairn and rill, In Langdale Pike and Witch's Lair, 350 The night-birds all that hour were still. And Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, But now they are jubilant anew,
With ropes of rock and bells of air From cliff and tower, tu - whoo! tu - Three sinful sextons' ghosts are pent, | Whoo!
Who all give back, one after t'other, Tu-whoo! tu-whoo! from wood and The death-note to their living brother; fell!
And oft too, by the knell offended,
Just as their one! two! three! is ended,
The air is still I through mist and cloud 360
Alas! they bad been friends in youth;
And Christabel awoke and spied
Sir Leoline, a moment's space,
But when he heard the lady's tale,
Again she saw that bosom old,
Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free — Again she felt that bosom cold,
Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me. And drew in her breath with a hissing | He bids thee come without delay sound:
With all thy numerous array; Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, And take thy lovely daughter home: And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid And be will meet thee on the way With eyes upraised, as one that prayed. With all his numerous array The touch, the sight, had passed away, White with their panting palfreys' foam: And in its stead that vision blest,
And, by mine honour! I will say, Which comforted her after-rest,
That I repent me of the day While in the lady's arms she lay,
When I spake words of fierce disdain Had put a rapture in her breast,
To Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine !And on her lips and o'er her eyes
- For since that evil hour bath flown, Spread smiles like light !
Many a summer's sun hath shone;
With new surprise, Yet ne'er found I a friend again * What ails then my beloved child ?" 470 Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine." The Baron said — His daughter mild Made answer, “ All will yet be well !” The lady fell, and clasped his knees, I ween, she had no power to tell
Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing; 520 Aught else: so mighty was the spell. And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, Yet he, who saw this Geraldine,
His gracious hail on all bestowing; Had deemed her sure a thing divine. “Thy words, thou sire of Christabel, Such sorrow with such grace she blended, Are sweeter than my harp can tell; As if she feared she had offended
Yet might I gain a boon of thee, Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid !
This day my journey should not be, And with such lowly tones she prayed 480 So strange a dream bath come to me; She might be sent without delay
That I had vowed with music loud Home to her father's mansion.
To clear yon wood from thing unblest, “Nay ! Warn’d by a vision in my rest!
530 Nay, by my soul !” said Leoline.
For in my sleep I saw that dove, “ Ho ! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine ! That gentle bird, whom thou dost love, Go thou, with music sweet and loud,
And call'st by thy own daughter's name And take two steeds with trappings proud, Sir Leoline ! I saw the same, And take the youth whom thou lov'st best Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan, To bear thy harp, and learn thy song, Among the green herbs in the forest alone. And clothe you both in solemn vest,
Which when I saw and when I heard, And over the mountains haste along, 490 I wonder'd what might ail the bird; Lest wandering folk, that are abroad, For nothing near it conld I see, Detain you on the valley road.
Save the grass and green herbs underneath
the old tree. “ And when he has crossed the Irthing flood, My merry bard ! he hastes, he hastes “ And in my dream, methought, I went Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth To search out what might there be found; Wood,
And what the sweet bird's trouble meant, And reaches soon that castle good
That thus lay fluttering on the ground. Which stands and threatens Scotland's I went and peered, and conld descry wastes.
No cause for her distressful cry;
But yet for her dear lady's sake “Bard Bracy ! bard Bracy ! your horses are I stooped, methought, the dove to take, fleet,
When lo ! I saw a bright green snake Ye must ride up the hall, your music so Coiled around its wings and neck. 550 sweet,
499 Green as the herbs on which it couched, More loud than your horses' echoing feet ! Close by the dove's its head it crouched; And lond and loud to Lord Roland call, And with the dove it heaves and stirs, Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall! Swelling its neck as she swelled hers!
I'woke; it was the midnight hour,
And passively did imitate The clock was echoing in the tower;
That look of dull and treacherous hate ! But though my slumber was gone by, And thus she stood, in dizzy trance, This dream it would not pass away — Still picturing that look askance It seems to live upon my eye!
With forced unconscious sympathy And thence I vowed this self-same day 560 Full before her father's view With music strong and saintly song
As far as such a look could be To wander through the forest bare,
In eyes so innocent and blue ! Lest aught unholy loiter there."
And when the trance was o'er, the maid
Paused awhile, and inly prayed: Thus Bracy said: the Baron, the while, Then falling at the Baron's feet, Half-listening heard him with a smile; “By my mother's soul do I entreat Then turned to Lady Geraldine,
That thou this woman send away!” His eyes made up of wonder and love; She said : and more she could not say: And said in courtly accents fine,
For what she knew she could not tell, “Sweet maid, Lord Roland's beanteous dove, O'er-mastered by the mighty spell. 620 With arms more strong than harp or song, Thy sire and I will crush the snake !” 571 Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, He kissed her forehead as he spake,
Sir Leoline ? Thy only child And Geraldine in maiden wise
Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride,
So fair, so innocent, so mild;
0, by the pangs of her dear mother Softly gathering up her train,
Think thou no evil of thy child ! That o'er her right arm fell again;
For her, and thee, and for no other, And folded her arms across her chest, She prayed the moment ere she died: And couched her head upon her breast, 580 Prayed that the babe for whom she died, 630 And looked askance at Christabel — | Might prove her dear lord's joy and Jesu, Maria, shield her well !
That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled, A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy,
Sir Leoline! And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her And wouldst thou wrong thy only child, head,
Her child and thine ?
If thoughts, like these, had any share,
They only swelled his rage and pain, One moment, and the sight was fled ! And did but work confusion there. But Christabel in dizzy trance
His heart was cleft with pain and rage, 640 Stumbling on the unsteady ground
His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were Shuddered aloud, with a hissing sound;
wild, And Geraldine again turned round,
Dishonour'd thus in his old age ; And like a thing that sought relief,
Dishonour'd by his only child,
And all his hospitality
By more than woman's jealousy
Brought thus to a disgraceful end --
And said in tones abrupt, austere —
- 650 I know not how, in fearful wise,
“Why, Bracy ! dost thou loiter here? So deeply had she drunken in
I bade thee hence !” The bard obeyed; That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, And turning from his own sweet maid, That all her features were resigned
The aged knight, Sir Leoline, To this sole image in her mind :
Led forth the lady Geraldine !
HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI 377
THE CONCLUSION TO PART THE SECOND
A mighty fountain momently was forced,
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20 A little child, a limber elf,
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding Singing, dancing to itself,
hail, A fairy thing with red round cheeks, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: That always finds, and never seeks,
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and Makes such a vision to the sight
ever As fills a father's eyes with light;
It flung up momently the sacred river. And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Upon his heart, that he at last
Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Must needs express his love's excess
Then reached the caverns measureless to With words of unmeant bitterness.
man, Perhaps 't is pretty to force together And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: Thoughts so all unlike each other;
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far To mutter and mock a broken charın, Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30 To dally with wrong that does no harm. Perhaps 't is tender too and pretty
The shadow of the dome of pleasure At each wild word to feel within
Floated midway on the waves; A sweet recoil of love and pity.
Where was heard the mingled measAnd what, if in a world of sin
ure (O sorrow and shame should this be true!) From the fountain and the caves. Such giddiness of heart and brain
It was a miracle of rare device, Comes seldom save from rage and pain, | A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice! So talks as it's most used to do.
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw:
It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played, 40 [Written 1797; publ. 1816)
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me In Xanadu did Kubla Khan
Her symphony and song, A stately pleasure-dome decree:
To such a deep delight 't would win me, Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
That with music loud and long, Tbrough caverns measureless to man
I would build tbat dome in air, Down to a sunless sea.
That sunny dome! those caves of ice! So twice five miles of fertile ground
And all who heard should see them there, With walls and towers were girdled round: | And all should cry, Beware! Beware! And here were gardens bright with simious His flashing eyes, his floating hair! 50 rills,
Weave a circle round him thrice, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing | And close your eyes with holy dread, tree;
For he on honey-dew hath fed, And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10 And drunk the milk of Paradise. Enfolding sunny spots of greenery. But oh! that deep romantic chasm which | HYMN BEFORE SUN-RISE, IN slanted
THE VALE OF CHAMOUNI Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
Hast thou a charm to stay the morning. A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted In his steep course ? So long he seems to By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
pause And froin this chasm, with ceaseless tur- On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc ! moil seething,
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base As if this earth in fast thick pants were Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful breathing,