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Table of Contents

      It was a lovely sight to see

      The lady Christabel, when she 280

      Was praying at the old oak tree.

      Amid the jagged shadows

      Of mossy leafless boughs,

      Kneeling in the moonlight,

      To make her gentle vows;

      Her slender palms together prest,

      Heaving sometimes on her breast;

      Her face resigned to bliss or bale —

      Her face, oh call it fair not pale,

      And both blue eyes more bright than clear, 290

      Each about to have a tear.

      With open eyes (ah woe is me!)

      Asleep, and dreaming fearfully,

      Fearfully dreaming, yet, I wis,

      Dreaming that alone, which is —

      O sorrow and shame! Can this be she,

      The lady, who knelt at the old oak tree?

      And lo! the worker of these harms,

      That holds the maiden in her arms,

      Seems to slumber still and mild,

      As a mother with her child. 300

      A star hath set, a star hath risen,

      O Geraldine! since arms of thine

      Have been the lovely lady’s prison.

      O Geraldine! one hour was thine —

      Thou’st had thy will! By tairn and rill,

      The night-birds all that hour were still.

      But now they are jubilant anew,

      From cliff and tower, tu — whoo! to — whoo!

      Tu — whoo! tu — whoo! from wood and fell! 310

      And see! the lady Christabel

      Gathers herself from out her trance;

      Her limbs relax, her countenance

      Grows sad and soft; the smooth thin lids

      Close o’er her eyes; and tears she sheds —

      Large tears that leave the lashes bright!

      And oft the while she seems to smile

      As infants at a sudden light!

      Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep,

      Like a youthful hermitess, 320

      Beauteous in a wilderness,

      Who, praying always, prays in sleep.

      And, if she move unquietly,

      Perchance, ‘tis but the blood so free

      Comes back and tingles in her feet.

      No doubt, she hath a vision sweet.

      What if her guardian spirit ‘twere,

      What if she knew her mother near;

      But this she knows, in joys and woes,

      That saints will aid if men will call: 330

      For the blue sky bends over all!

Part II

       Table of Contents

      Each matin bell, the Baron saith,

      Knells us back to a world of death.

      These words Sir Leoline first said,

      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,

      Who duly pulls the heavy bell, 340

      Five and forty beads must tell

      Between each stroke — a warning knell,

      Which not a soul can choose but hear

      From Bratha Head to Wyndermere.

      Saith Bracy the bard, So let it knell!

      And let the drowsy sacristan

      Still count as slowly as he can!

      There is no lack of such, I ween,

      As well fill up the space between.

      In Langdale Pike and Witch’s Lair,

      And Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent, 350

      With ropes of rock and bells of air

      Three sinful sextons’ ghosts are pent,

      Who all give back, one after t’other,

      The death-note to their living brother;

      And oft too, by the knell offended,

      Just as their one! two! three! is ended,

      The devil mocks the doleful tale

      With a merry peal from Borodale.

      The air is still! through mist and cloud 360

      That merry peal comes ringing loud;

      And Geraldine shakes off her dread,

      And rises lightly from the bed;

      Puts on her silken vestments white,

      And tricks her hair in lovely plight,

      And nothing doubting of her spell

      Awakens the lady Christabel.

      “Sleep you, sweet lady Christabel?

      I trust that you have rested well.”

      And Christabel awoke and spied 370

      The same who lay down by her side —

      O rather say, the same whom she

      Raised up beneath the old oak tree!

      Nay, fairer yet! and yet more fair!

      For she belike hath drunken deep

      Of all the blessedness of sleep!

      And while she spake, her looks, her air

      Such gentle thankfulness declare,

      That so it seemed’ her girded vests

      Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts. 380

      “Sure I have sinn’d!” said Christabel,

      “Now heaven be praised if all be well!”

      And in low faltering tones, yet sweet,

      Did she the lofty lady greet

      With such perplexity of mind

      As dreams too lively leave behind.

      So quickly she rose, and quickly arrayed

      Her maiden limbs, and having prayed

      That He, who on the cross did groan,

      Might wash away her sins unknown, 390

      She forthwith led fair Geraldine

      To meet her sire, Sir Leoline.

      The lovely maid and the lady tall

      Are pacing both into the hall,

      And pacing on through page and groom,

      Enter the Baron’s presence-room.

      The Baron rose, and while he prest

      His gentle daughter to his breast,

      With

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