Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel: For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes, Him any mercy, in that mansion foul, Save one old beldame, weak in body and in soul. XI. Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand, To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame, The sound of merriment and chorus bland: 85 90 95 XII. "Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand: He had a fever late, and in the fit 100 He cursed thee and thine, both house and land: We're safe enough; here in this arm-chair sit, And tell me how " -"Good Saints! not here, not here; Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier." XIII. He follow'd through a lowly archéd way, Pale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb. Now tell me where is Madeline," said he, "O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom Which none but secret sisterhood may see, When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously.” 66 XIV. St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve- But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle time to grieve." 120 125 XV. Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon, 130 But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold, And Madeline asleep in lap of legends old. 135 XVI. Sudden a thought came like a full-blown rose, A stratagem, that makes the beldame start: 66 · A cruel man and impious thou art: 140 Sweet lady, let her pray, and sleep and dream From wicked men like thee. Go, go! I deem XVII. "I will not harm her, by all saints I swear," Quoth Porphyro: "O may I ne'er find grace 145 When my weak voice shall whisper its last prayer, Or look with ruffian passion in her face: Good Angela, believe me by these tears; 150 Or I will, even in a moment's space, Awake, with horrid shout, my foemen's ears, And beard them, though they be more fang'd than wolves and bears." XVIII. "Ah! why wilt thou affright a feeble soul? A poor, weak, palsy-stricken, church-yard thing, 155 Were never miss'd." Thus plaining, doth she bring So woeful, and of such deep sorrowing, 160 That Angela gives promise she will do Whatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe. XIX. Which was, to lead him, in close secrecy, Even to Madeline's chamber, and there hide 165 That he might see her beauty unespied, And win perhaps that night a peerless bride, 170 Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt. XX. It shall be as thou wishest," said the Dame: 175 On such a catering trust my dizzy head. Wait here, my child, with patience kneel in prayer XXI. So saying she hobbled off with busy fear. 180 The dame return'd, and whisper'd in his ear From fright of dim espial. Safe at last, 185 Through many a dusky gallery, they gain The maiden's chamber, silken, hush'd and chaste; Where Porphyro took covert, pleased amain. His poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. XXII. Her faltering hand upon the balustrade, Old Angela was feeling for the stair, When Madeline, St. Agnes' charméd maid, With silver taper's light, and pious care, She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled. XXIII. Out went the taper as she hurried in; Its little smoke, in pallid moonshine, died: To spirits of the air, and visions wide: 190 195 200 But to her heart, her heart was voluble, 205 As though a tongueless nightingale should swell Her throat in vain, and die, heart-stifled, in her dell. XXIV. A casement high and triple-arch'd there was, Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, 210 215 A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. XXV. Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, Save wings, for heaven: Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. XXVI. Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. XXVII. Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, 220 225 230 235 |