The air is still! through mist and cloud 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 The same who lay down by her sideO 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. "Sure I have sinned!" 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, 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 And such welcome to the same, gave As might beseem so bright a dame ! But when he heard the lady's tale, Alas! they had been friends in youth; But whispering tongues can poison truth; And constancy lives in realms above; And life is thorny; and youth is vain; And to be wroth with one we love, Doth work like madness in the brain. And thus it chanced, as I divine, With Roland and Sir Leoline. Each spake words of high disdain And insult to his heart's best brother: They parted-ne'er to meet again! But never either found another But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, The marks of that which once hath been. Sir Leoline, a moment's space, Stood gazing on the damsel's face: And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine Came back upon his heart again. O then the Baron forgot his age, With trump and solemn heraldry, That they who thus had wronged the dame, "And if they dare deny the same, He spake his eye in lightning rolls! For the lady was ruthlessly seized; and he kenned In the beautiful lady the child of his friend! And now the tears were on his face, And fondly in his arms he took Fair Geraldine, who met the embrace, Which when she viewed, a vision fell The vision of fear, the touch and pain! Again she felt that bosom cold, And drew in her breath with a hissing sound: Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid With eyes upraised, as one that prayed. The touch, the sight, had passed away, With new surprise, Yet he, who saw this Geraldine, Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid! She might be sent without delay “Nay! Nay, by my soul!" said Leoline. "Ho! Bracy, the bard, the charge be thine! And when he has crossed the Irthing flood, Up Knorren Moor, through Halegerth Wood, Which stands and threatens Scotland's wastes. "Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses are fleet, Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet, More loud than your horses' echoing feet! |