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CHRISTABEL
Samuel Taylor Coleridge
PART
I
- 'T is the middle of
night by the castle clock
- And the owls have
awakened the crowing cock;
- Tu-whit!- Tu-whoo!
- And hark, again! the
crowing cock,
- How drowsily it
crew.
- Sir Leoline, the
Baron rich,
- Hath a toothless
mastiff, which
- From her kennel
beneath the rock
- Maketh answer to the
clock,
- Four for the
quarters, and twelve for the hour;
- Ever and aye, by
shine and shower,
- Sixteen short howls,
not over loud;
- Some say, she sees
my lady's shroud.
-
- Is the night chilly
and dark?
- The night is chilly,
but not dark.
- The thin gray cloud
is spread on high,
- It covers but not
hides the sky.
- The moon is behind,
and at the full;
- And yet she looks
both small and dull.
- The night is chill,
the cloud is gray:
- 'T is a month before
the month of May,
- And the Spring comes
slowly up this way.
- The lovely lady,
Christabel,
- Whom her father
loves so well,
- What makes her in
the wood so late,
- A furlong from the
castle gate?
- She had dreams all
yesternight
- Of her own betrothed
knight;
- And she in the
midnight wood will pray
- For the weal of her
lover that's far away.
-
- She stole along, she
nothing spoke,
- The sighs she
heaved were soft and low,
- And naught was green
upon the oak,
- But moss and
rarest mistletoe:
- She kneels beneath
the huge oak tree,
- And in silence
prayeth she.
-
- The lady sprang up
suddenly,
- The lovely lady,
Christabel!
- It moaned as near,
as near can be,
- But what it is she
cannot tell.-
- On the other side it
seems to be,
- Of the huge,
broad-breasted, old oak tree.
- The night is chill;
the forest bare;
- Is it the wind
that moaneth bleak?
- There is not wind
enough in the air
- To move away the
ringlet curl
- From the lovely
lady's cheek-
- There is not wind
enough to twirl
- The one red leaf,
the last of its clan,
- That dances as often
as dance it can,
- Hanging so light,
and hanging so high,
- On the topmost twig
that looks up at the sky.
-
- Hush, beating heart
of Christabel!
- Jesu, Maria, shield
her well!
- She folded her arms
beneath her cloak,
- And stole to the
other side of the oak.
- What sees she
there?
-
- There she sees a
damsel bright,
- Dressed in a silken
robe of white,
- That shadowy in the
moonlight shone:
- The neck that made
that white robe wan,
- Her stately neck,
and arms were bare;
- Her blue-veined feet
unsandaled were;
- And wildly glittered
here and there
- The gems entangled
in her hair.
- I guess, 't was
frightful there to see
- A lady so richly
clad as she-
- Beautiful
exceedingly!
-
- 'Mary mother, save
me now!'
- Said Christabel,
'and who art thou?'
-
- The lady strange
made answer meet,
- And her voice was
faint and sweet:-
- 'Have pity on my
sore distress,
- I scarce can speak
for weariness:
- Stretch forth thy
hand, and have no fear!'
- Said Christabel,
'How camest thou here?'
- And the lady, whose
voice was faint and sweet,
- Did thus pursue her
answer meet:-
- 'My sire is of a
noble line,
- And my name is
Geraldine:
- Five warriors seized
me yestermorn,
- Me, even me, a maid
forlorn:
- They choked my cries
with force and fright,
- And tied me on a
palfrey white.
- The palfrey was as
fleet as wind,
- And they rode
furiously behind.
- They spurred amain,
their steeds were white:
- And once we crossed
the shade of night.
- As sure as Heaven
shall rescue me,
- I have no thought
what men they be;
- Nor do I know how
long it is
- (For I have lain
entranced, I wis)
- Since one, the
tallest of the five,
- Took me from the
palfrey's back,
- A weary woman,
scarce alive.
- Some muttered words
his comrades spoke:
- He placed me
underneath this oak;
- He swore they would
return with haste;
- Whither they went I
cannot tell-
- I thought I heard,
some minutes past,
- Sounds as of a
castle bell.
- Stretch forth thy
hand,' thus ended she,
- 'And help a wretched
maid to flee.'
-
- Then Christabel
stretched forth her hand,
- And comforted fair
Geraldine:
- 'O well, bright
dame, may you command
- The service of Sir
Leoline;
- And gladly our stout
chivalry
- Will he send
forth, and friends withal,
- To guide and guard
you safe and free
- Home to your noble
father's hall.'
-
- She rose: and forth
with steps they passed
- That strove to be,
and were not, fast.
- Her gracious stars
the lady blest,
- And thus spake on
sweet Christabel:
- 'All our household
are at rest,
- The hall is silent
as the cell;
- Sir Leoline is weak
in health,
- And may not well
awakened be,
- But we will move as
if in stealth;
- And I beseech your
courtesy,
- This night, to
share your couch with me.'
-
- They crossed the
moat, and Christabel
- Took the key that
fitted well;
- A little door she
opened straight,
- All in the middle of
the gate;
- The gate that was
ironed within and without,
- Where an army in
battle array had marched out.
- The lady sank,
belike through pain,
- And Christabel with
might and main
- Lifted her up, a
weary weight,
- Over the threshold
of the gate:
- Then the lady rose
again,
- And moved, as she
were not in pain.
-
- So, free from
danger, free from fear,
- They crossed the
court: right glad they were.
- And Christabel
devoutly cried
- To the Lady by her
side;
- 'Praise we the
Virgin all divine,
- Who hath rescued
thee from thy distress!'
- 'Alas, alas!' said
Geraldine,
- 'I cannot speak
for weariness.'
- So, free from
danger, free from fear,
- They crossed the
court: right glad they were.
-
- Outside her kennel
the mastiff old
- Lay fast asleep, in
moonshine cold.
- The mastiff old did
not awake,
- Yet she an angry
moan did make.
- And what can ail the
mastiff bitch?
- Never till now she
uttered yell
- Beneath the eye of
Christabel.
- Perhaps it is the
owlet's scritch:
- For what can aid the
mastiff bitch?
-
- They passed the
hall, that echoes still,
- Pass as lightly as
you will.
- The brands were
flat, the brands were dying,
- Amid their own white
ashes lying;
- But when the lady
passed, there came
- A tongue of light, a
fit of flame;
- And Christabel saw
the lady's eye,
- And nothing else saw
she thereby,
- Save the boss of the
shield of Sir Leoline tall,
- Which hung in a
murky old niche in the wall.
- 'O softly tread,'
said Christabel,
- 'My father seldom
sleepeth well.'
- Sweet Christabel her
feet doth bare,
- And, jealous of the
listening air,
- They steal their way
from stair to stair,
- Now in glimmer, and
now in gloom,
- And now they pass
the Baron's room,
- As still as death,
with stifled breath!
- And now have reached
her chamber door;
- And now doth
Geraldine press down
- The rushes of the
chamber floor.
-
- The moon shines dim
in the open air,
- And not a moonbeam
enters here.
- But they without its
light can see
- The chamber carved
so curiously,
- Carved with
figures strange and sweet,
- All made out of the
carver's brain,
- For a lady's
chamber meet:
- The lamp with
twofold silver chain
- Is fastened to an
angel's feet.
- The silver lamp
burns dead and dim;
- But Christabel the
lamp will trim.
- She trimmed the
lamp, and made it bright,
- And left it swinging
to and fro,
- While Geraldine,
in wretched plight,
- Sank down upon the
floor below.
- 'O weary lady,
Geraldine,
- I pray you, drink
this cordial wine!
- It is a wine of
virtuous powers;
- My mother made it of
wild flowers.'
-
- 'And will your
mother pity me,
- Who am a maiden most
forlorn?'
- Christabel answered-
'Woe is me!
- She died the hour
that I was born.
- I have heard the
gray-haired friar tell,
- How on her
death-bed she did say,
- That she should hear
the castle-bell
- Strike twelve upon
my wedding-day.
- O mother dear! that
thou wert here!'
- 'I would,' said
Geraldine, 'she were!'
-
- But soon, with
altered voice, said she-
- 'Off, wandering
mother! Peak and pine!
- I have power to bid
thee flee.'
- Alas! what ails
poor Geraldine?
- Why stares she with
unsettled eye?
- Can she the bodiless
dead espy?
- And why with hollow
voice cries she,
- 'Off, woman, off!
this hour is mine-
- Though thou her
guardian spirit be,
- Off, woman. off! 't
is given to me.'
-
- Then Christabel
knelt by the lady's side,
- And raised to
heaven her eyes so blue-
- 'Alas!' said she,
'this ghastly ride-
- Dear lady! it hath
wildered you!'
- The lady wiped her
moist cold brow,
- And faintly said,
''T is over now!'
- Again the
wild-flower wine she drank:
- Her fair large eyes
'gan glitter bright,
- And from the
floor, whereon she sank,
- The lofty lady stood
upright:
- She was most
beautiful to see,
- Like a lady of a
far countree.
-
- And thus the lofty
lady spake-
- 'All they, who live
in the upper sky,
- Do love you,
holy Christabel!
- And you love them,
and for their sake,
- And for the good
which me befell,
- Even I in my degree
will try,
- Fair maiden, to
requite you well.
- But now unrobe
yourself; for I
- Must pray, ere yet
in bed I lie.'
-
- Quoth Christabel,
'So let it be!'
- And as the lady
bade, did she.
- Her gentle limbs did
she undress
- And lay down in her
loveliness.
-
- But through her
brain, of weal and woe,
- So many thoughts
moved to and fro,
- That vain it were
her lids to close;
- So half-way from the
bed she rose,
- And on her elbow did
recline.
- To look at the lady
Geraldine.
- Beneath the lamp the
lady bowed,
- And slowly rolled
her eyes around;
- Then drawing in her
breath aloud,
- Like one that
shuddered, she unbound
- The cincture from
beneath her breast:
- Her silken robe, and
inner vest,
- Dropped to her feet,
and full in view,
- Behold! her bosom
and half her side-
- A sight to dream of,
not to tell!
- O shield her! shield
sweet Christabel!
-
- Yet Geraldine nor
speaks nor stirs:
- Ah! what a stricken
look was hers!
- Deep from within she
seems half-way
- To lift some weight
with sick assay,
- And eyes the maid
and seeks delay;
- Then suddenly, as
one defied,
- Collects herself in
scorn and pride,
- And lay down by the
maiden's side!-
- And in her arms the
maid she took,
- Ah,
well-a-day!
- And with low voice
and doleful look
- These words
did say:
-
- 'In the touch of
this bosom there worketh a spell,
- Which is lord of thy
utterance, Christabel!
- Thou knowest
to-night, and wilt know to-morrow,
- This mark of my
shame, this seal of my sorrow;
- But vainly
thou warrest,
- For this is
alone in
- Thy power to
declare,
- That in the
dim forest
- Thou heard'st
a low moaning,
- And found'st a
bright lady, surpassingly fair:
- And didst bring her
home with thee, in love and in charity,
- To shield her and
shelter her from the damp air.'
-
- It was a lovely
sight to see
- The lady Christabel,
when she
- 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.
- 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.
-
- 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 tarn and rill,
- The night-birds all
that hour were still.
- But now they are
jubilant anew,
- From cliff and
tower, tu-whoo! tu-whoo!
- Tu-whoo! tu-whoo!
from wood and fell!
-
- 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,
- Beauteous in a
wilderness,
- Who, praying always,
prays in sleep.
- And, if she move
unquietly,
- Perchance, 't is but
the blood so free
- Comes back and
tingles in her feet.
- No doubt, she hath a
vision sweet.
- What if her guardian
spirit 't were,
- 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.
-
- PART II
-
- 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,
- 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,
- 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 Borrowdale.
-
- 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 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.
- '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
- His gentle daughter
to his breast,
- With cheerful wonder
in his eyes
- The lady Geraldine
espies,
- And gave such
welcome to the same,
- As might beseem so
bright a dame!
-
- But when he heard
the lady's tale,
- And when she told
her father's name,
- Why waxed Sir
Leoline so pale,
- Murmuring o'er the
name again,
- Lord Roland de Vaux
of Tryermaine?
- 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
- To free the hollow
heart from paining-
- They stood aloof,
the scars remaining,
- Like cliffs which
had been rent asunder;
- A dreary sea now
flows between.
- But neither heat,
nor frost, nor thunder,
- Shall wholly do
away, I ween,
- 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,
- His noble heart
swelled high with rage;
- He swore by the
wounds in Jesu's side
- He would proclaim it
far and wide,
- With trump and
solemn heraldry,
- That they, who
thus had wronged the dame
- Were base as spotted
infamy!
- 'And if they dare
deny the same,
- My herald shall
appoint a week,
- And let the recreant
traitors seek
- My tourney court-
that there and then
- I may dislodge their
reptile souls
- From the bodies
and forms of men!'
- 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,
- Prolonging it with
joyous look.
- Which when she
viewed, a vision fell
- Upon the soul of
Christabel,
- The vision of fear,
the touch and pain!
- She shrunk and
shuddered, and saw again-
- (Ah, woe is me! Was
it for thee,
- Thou gentle maid!
such sights to see?)
- Again she saw that
bosom old,
- 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,
- And in its stead
that vision blest,
- Which comforted
her after-rest,
- While in the lady's
arms she lay,
- Had put a rapture
in her breast,
- And on her lips and
o'er her eyes
- Spread smiles like
light!
-
With new surprise,
- 'What ails then my
beloved child?'
- The Baron said- His
daughter mild
- Made answer, 'All
will yet be well!'
- I ween, she had no
power to tell
- Aught else: so
mighty was the spell.
-
- Yet he who saw this
Geraldine,
- Had deemed her sure
a thing divine.
- Such sorrow with
such grace she blended,
- As if she feared she
had offended
- Sweet Christabel,
that gentle maid!
- And with such lowly
tones she prayed
- She might be sent
without delay
- Home to her father's
mansion.
-
'Nay!
- Nay, by my soul!'
said Leoline.
- 'Ho! Bracy the bard,
the charge be thine!
- Go thou, with music
sweet and loud,
- And take two steeds
with trappings proud,
- And take the youth
whom thou lov'st best
- To bear thy harp,
and learn thy song,
- And clothe you both
in solemn vest,
- And over the
mountains haste along,
- Lest wandering folk,
that are abroad,
- Detain you on the
valley road.
-
- 'And when he has
crossed the Irthing flood,
- My merry bard! he
hastes, he hastes
- Up Knorren Moor,
through Halegarth Wood,
- And reaches soon
that castle good
- 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!
- And loud and loud to
Lord Roland call,
- Thy daughter is safe
in Langdale hall!
- Thy beautiful
daughter is safe and free-
- Sir Leoline greets
thee thus through me.
- He bids thee come
without delay
- With all thy
numerous array;
- And take thy lovely
daughter home:
- And he will meet
thee on the way
- With all his
numerous array
- White with their
panting palfreys' foam:
- And, by mine honor!
I will say,
- That I repent me of
the day
- When I spake words
of fierce disdain
- To Roland de Vaux of
Tryermaine!-
- - For since that
evil hour hath flown,
- Many a summer's sun
hath shone;
- Yet ne'er found I a
friend again
- Like Roland de Vaux
of Tryermaine.'
-
- The lady fell, and
clasped his knees,
- Her face upraised,
her eyes o'erflowing;
- And Bracy replied,
with faltering voice,
- His gracious hail on
all bestowing;
- 'Thy words, thou
sire of Christabel,
- Are sweeter than my
harp can tell;
- Yet might I gain a
boon of thee,
- This day my journey
should not be,
- So strange a dream
hath come to me;
- That I had vowed
with music loud
- To clear yon wood
from thing unblest,
- Warned by a vision
in my rest!
- For in my sleep I
saw that dove,
- That gentle bird,
whom thou dost love,
- And call'st by thy
own daughter's name-
- Sir Leoline! I saw
the same,
- Fluttering, and
uttering fearful moan,
- Among the green
herbs in the forest alone.
- Which when I saw and
when I heard,
- I wondered what
might ail the bird;
- For nothing near it
could I see,
- Save the grass and
herbs underneath the old tree.
- And in my dream
methought I went
- To search out what
might there be found;
- And what the sweet
bird's trouble meant,
- That thus lay
fluttering on the ground.
- I went and peered,
and could descry
- No cause for her
distressful cry;
- But yet for her dear
lady's sake
- I stooped, methought,
the dove to take,
- When lo! I saw a
bright green snake
- Coiled around its
wings and neck.
- Green as the herbs
on which it couched,
- Close by the dove's
its head it crouched;
- And with the dove it
heaves and stirs,
- Swelling its neck as
she swelled hers!
- I woke; it was the
midnight hour,
- The clock was
echoing in the tower;
- But though my
slumber was gone by,
- This dream it would
not pass away-
- It seems to live
upon my eye!
- And thence I vowed
this self-same day
- With music strong
and saintly song
- To wander through
the forest bare,
- Lest aught unholy
loiter there.'
-
- Thus Bracy said: the
Baron, the while,
- Half-listening heard
him with a smile;
- Then turned to Lady
Geraldine,
- His eyes made up of
wonder and love;
- And said in courtly
accents fine,
- 'Sweet maid, Lord
Roland's beauteous dove,
- With arms more
strong than harp or song,
- Thy sire and I will
crush the snake!'
- He kissed her
forehead as he spake,
- And Geraldine in
maiden wise
- Casting down her
large bright eyes,
- With blushing cheek
and courtesy fine
- She turned her from
Sir Leoline;
- Softly gathering up
her train,
- That o'er her right
arm fell again;
- And folded her arms
across her chest,
- And couched her head
upon her breast,
- And looked askance
at Christabel-
- Jesu, Maria, shield
her well!
-
- A snake's small eye
blinks dull and shy,
- And the lady's eyes
they shrunk in her head,
- Each shrunk up to a
serpent's eye,
- And with somewhat of
malice, and more of dread,
- At Christabel she
looked askance!-
- One moment- and the
sight was fled!
- But Christabel in
dizzy trance
- Stumbling on the
unsteady ground
- Shuddered aloud,
with a hissing sound;
- And Geraldine again
turned round,
- And like a thing
that sought relief,
- Full of wonder and
full of grief,
- She rolled her large
bright eyes divine
- Wildly on Sir
Leoline.
-
- The maid, alas! her
thoughts are gone,
- She nothing sees- no
sight but one!
- The maid, devoid of
guile and sin,
- I know not how, in
fearful wise,
- So deeply had she
drunken in
- That look, those
shrunken serpent eyes,
- That all her
features were resigned
- To this sole image
in her mind:
- And passively did
imitate
- That look of dull
and treacherous hate!
- And thus she stood,
in dizzy trance,
- Still picturing that
look askance
- With forced
unconscious sympathy
- Full before her
father's view-
- As far as such a
look could be
- In eyes so innocent
and blue!
-
- And when the trance
was o'er, the maid
- Paused awhile, and
inly prayed:
- Then falling at the
Baron's feet,
- 'By my mother's soul
do I entreat
- That thou this woman
send away!'
- She said: and more
she could not say;
- For what she knew
she could not tell,
- O'er-mastered by the
mighty spell.
- Why is thy cheek so
wan and wild,
- Sir Leoline? Thy
only child
- Lies at thy feet,
thy joy, thy pride.
- So fair, so
innocent, so mild;
- The same, for whom
thy lady died!
- O by the pangs of
her dear mother
- Think thou no evil
of thy child!
- For her, and thee,
and for no other,
- She prayed the
moment ere she died:
- Prayed that the babe
for whom she died,
- Might prove her dear
lord's joy and pride!
- That prayer her
deadly pangs beguiled,
- Sir Leoline!
- And wouldst thou
wrong thy only child,
- Her child
and thine?
-
- Within the Baron's
heart and brain
- If thoughts, like
these, had any share,
- They only swelled
his rage and pain,
- And did but work
confusion there.
- His heart was cleft
with pain and rage,
- His cheeks they
quivered, his eyes were wild,
- Dishonored thus in
his old age;
- Dishonored by his
only child,
- And all his
hospitality
- To the insulted
daughter of his friend
- By more than woman's
jealousy
- Brought thus to a
disgraceful end-
- He rolled his eye
with stern regard
- Upon the gentle
ministrel bard,
- And said in tones
abrupt, austere-
- 'Why, Bracy! dost
thou loiter here?
- I bade thee hence!'
The bard obeyed;
- And turning from his
own sweet maid,
- The aged knight, Sir
Leoline,
- Led forth the lady
Geraldine!
-
- (Coleridge never
finished the poem; this conclusion is by James
- Gillman, who cared
for Coleridge during the latter years. He wrote the
- following based on
what the poet used to outline for his friends.)
-
- THE CONCLUSION TO
PART II
-
- A little child, a
limber elf,
- Singing, dancing to
itself,
- A fairy thing with
red round cheeks,
- That always finds,
and never seeks,
- Makes such a vision
to the sight
- As fills a father's
eyes with light;
- And pleasures flow
in so thick and fast
- Upon his heart, that
he at last
- Must needs express
his love's excess
- With words of
unmeant bitterness.
- Perhaps 'tis pretty
to force together
- Thoughts so all
unlike each other;
- To mutter and mock a
broken charm,
- To dally with wrong
that does no harm.
- Perhaps 'tis tender
too and pretty
- At each wild word to
feel within
- A sweet recoil of
love and pity.
- And what, if in a
world of sin
- (O sorrow and shame
should this be true!)
- Such giddiness of
heart and brain
- Comes seldom save
from rage and pain,
- So talks as it's
most used to do.
-
- THE END.
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