Yea, she doth smile, and she doth weep, “Sleep you, sweet lady Christabel ?
Like a youthful hermitess,

I trust that you have rested well."
Beauteous in a wilderness,
Who, praying always, prays in sleep. And Christabel awoke and spied
And, if she move unquietly,

The same who lay down by her side, –
Perchance, 't is but the blood so free, O, rather say, the same whom she
('omes back and tingles in her feet. Raised up beneath the old oak-tree !
No doubt she hath a vision sweet. Nay, fairer yet! and yet more fair!
What if her guardian spirit 't were? For she belike hath drunken deep
What if she knew her mother near ? Of all the blessedness of sleep!
But this she knows, in joys and woes, And while she spake, her look, her air,
'That saints will aid if men will call; Such gentle thankfulness declare,
For the blue sky bends over all ! That (so it seemed) her girded vests

Grew tight beneath her beaving breasts.

“Sure I have sinned !” said Christabel, PART II.

“Now Heaven be praised if all be well!"

And in low faltering tones, yet sweet, “Each matin-bell," the Baron saith,

Did she the lofty lady greet,
“Knells us back to a world of death." With such perplexity of mind
These words Sir Leoline first said, As dreams too lively leave behind.
When he rose and found his lady dead :
These words Sir Leoline will say

Soquickly she rose, and quickly arrayed Many a morn to his lying day!

Her maiden limbs, and having prayed

That He who on the cross did groan And hence the custom and law began, She forthwith led fair Geraldine

Might wash away her sins unknown, That still at lawn the sacristan,

To meet her sire, Sir Leoline.
Who duly pulls the heavy bell,
Five-and-forty beads must tell
Between each stroke, - a warning knell, Are pacing both into the hall,

The lovely maid and the lady tall
Which not a soul can choose but hear
From Bratha Head to Wyndermere.

And pacing on through page and groom,

Enter the Baron's presence-room. Saith Bracy the bard, “So let it knell ! The Baron rose, and while he prest And let the drowsy sacristan

His gentle daughter to liis breast, Still count as slowly as he can!

With cheerful wonder in his eyes, There is no lack of such, I ween,

The Lady Geraldine espies, As well fill up the space


And gave such welcome to the same In Langlale Pike and Witch's Lair,

As might beseem so bright a dame!
And Dungeon-ghyll so foully rent,
With ropes of rock and bells of air

But when he heard the lady's tale, Three sinful sextons' ghosts are pent, And when she told her father's name, Who all give back, one after t' other,

Why waxed Sir Leoline so pale, The death-note to their living brother; Murmuring o'er the name again, And oft, too, by the knell offended, Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine? Just as their one! two! three! is ended, The devil mocks the doleful tale

Alas! they had been friends in youth ; With a nierry peal from Borodale."

But whispering tongues can poison truth;

And constancy lives in realms above, The air is still! through mist and cloud And life is thorny, and youth is vain, That merry peal comes ringing loud; And to be wroth with one we love And Geraldine shakes off her dread, Doth work like madness in the brain. And rises lightly from the bed ;

And thus it chanced, as I divine, Puts on her silken vestments white, With Roland and Sir Leoline. And tricks her hair in lovely plight, Each spake words of high disdain And, nothing doubting of her spell, And insult to his heart's best brother: Awakens the Lady Christabel.

They parted, — ne'er to meet again!



But never either found another

And on her lips and o'er her eyes
To free the hollow heart from paining;— Spread smiles like light !
They stood aloof, the scars remaining,

With new surprise,
Like cliffs which had been rent asunder, “What ails then my beloved child ?"
A dreary sea now tlows between; The Buron said. His daughter mild
But neither heat nor frost nor thunder Made answer, “All will yet be well!"
Shall wholly do away, I ween,

I ween, she had no power to tell The marks of that which once hath been. Aught else; so mighty was the spell. Sir Leoline a moment's space

Yet he who saw this Geraldine Stood gazing on the damsel's face, Had deemed her sure a thing divine. And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine Such sorrow with such grace she blender, Came back upon his heart again.

As if she feared she had offended

Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid ! 0, then the Baron forgot his age, And with such lowly tones she prayed, His noble heart swelled high with rage; She might be sent without delay He swore by the wounds in Jesu's side Home to her father's mansion. He would proclaim it far and wide

“Nay! With trump and solemn heraldry, Nay, by my soul!” said Leoline. That they who thus had wronged the “Ho! Bracy, the burd, the charge lie daine

thine! Were base as spotted infamy!

Go thou, with music sweet and loud, “And if they dare deny the same, And take twosteeds with trappings proud, My herald shall appoint a week, And take the youth whom thou lov'st And let the recreant traitors seek

best My tourney court, - that there and then To bear thy harp, and learn thy song, I may dislodge their reptile souls And clothe you both in solemn vest, From the bodies and forins of men !" And over the wountains haste along, He spake: his eye in lightning rolls! Lest wandering folk, that are abroad, For the lady was ruthlessly seized; and Detain you on the valley road. he kenned

And when he has crossed the Irthing flood, In the beautiful lady the child of his friend! My merry baril: he hastes, he hastes

Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth And now the tears were on his face,

Wood, And fondly in his arms he took

And reaches soon that castle good Fair Geraldine, who met the embrace, Which stands and threatens Scotland's Prolonging it with joyous look. Which when she viewed, a vision fell Upon the soul of Christabel,

“Bard Bracy! Bard Bracy! your horses The vision of fear, the touch and pain !

are fleet, She shrunk and shuddered, and saw Ye must ride up the hall, your music so again

sweet, Ah, woe is me! Was it for thee, More loud than your horses' echoing feet! Thou gentle maid ! such sights to see?) And loud and loud to Lord Roland call, Again she saw that bosom old,

Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall! Again she felt that bosom cold,

Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free, And drew in her breath with a hissing Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me. sound:

He bids thee come without delay Whereat the Knight turned wildly round, With all thy numerous array, And nothing saw but his own sweet maid, And take thy lovely daughter home; With eyes upraised, as one that prayed. And he will meet thee on the way

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 honor! 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 !


For since that evil hour hath flown, And said in courtly accents fine,
Many a summer's sun hath shone; "Sweet maid, Lord Roland's beauteous
Yet ne'er found I a friend again

dove, Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine." With arms more strong than harp or

song, The lady fell, and clasped his knees, Thy sire and I will crush the snake!" Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing; He kissed her forehead as he spake, And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, ! And Geraldine, in maiden wise, His gracious hail on all bestowing ! Casting down her large bright eyes, “Thy words, thou sire of Christabel, With blushing cheek and courtesy fine Are sweeter than my harp can tell; She turned her from Sir Leoline; Yet might I gain a boon of thee, Softly gathering up her train, This day my journey should not be, That o'er her right arm fell again; So strange a dream hath come to me, And folded her arms across her chest, That I had vowed with music loud And couched her heard upon her breast, To clear yon wood from thing unblest, And looked askance at Christabel Warned by a vision in my rest!

Jesu Maria, shield her well! For in my sleep I saw that dove, That gentle bird, whom thou dost love, A snake's small eye blinksdulland shy, And call'st by thy own daughter's name And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her Sir Leoline! I saw the saine

head, Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan, Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye, Among the green herbs in the forest alone. And with somewhat of malice, and more Which when I saw and when I heard,

of dread, I wondered what might ail the bird; At Christabel she looked askance! For nothing near it could I see,

One moment--and the sight was fled ! Save the grass and green herbs underneath But Christabel, in dizzy trance the old tree.

Stumbling on the unsteady ground,

Shuddered alond, with a hissing sound; “And in my dream methought I went And Geraldine again turned round, To search out what might there be found; And like a thing that sought relief, And what the sweet bird's trouble meant, Full of wonder and full of grief, That thus lay fluttering on the ground. She rolled her large bright eyes divine I went and peered, and could desery Wilily on Sir Leoline. No cause for her distressful cry; But yet for her dear lady's sake

The maid, alas! her thonghts are gone; I stooped, methought, the dove to take, She nothing sees, - no sight but one! When lo! I saw a bright green snake The maid, devoid of guile and sin, ('oiléil around its wings and neck, I know not how, in fearful wise Green as the herbs on which it couched. So deeply had she drunken in Close by the dove's its head it crouched ; 1 That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, And with the dove it heaves and stirs, That all her features were resigned Swelling its neck as she swelleil hers! To this sole image in her mind, 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 selfsame day, 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 paved: 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:



For what she knew she could not tell, Perhaps 't is tender too and pretty
O'ermastered by the mighty spell.

At each wild word to feel within

A sweet recoil of love and pity. Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, And what if in a world of sin Sir Leoline? Thy only child

(O sorrow and shame, should this be true!) Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride, Such giddiness of heart and brain So fair, so innocent, so mild;

Comes seldom save from rage and pain, The same for whom thy lady died ! So talks as it's most used to do. 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 ROBERT SOUTHEY. Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride! That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled,

(1774 - 1843.)
Sir Leoline!
And wouldst thou wrong thy only child,

Her child and thine?

My days among the dead are passed ;
Within the Baron's heart and brain, Around me I behold,
If thoughts like these had any share,

Where'er these casual eyes are cast,
They only swelled his rage and pain, The mighty minds of old ;
And did but work confusion there. My never-failing friends are they,
His heart was cleft with pain and rage,

With whom I converse day by day.
His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were

With them I take delight in weal, Dishonored thus in his old age;

And seek relief in woe; Dishonored by his only child,

And while I understand and feel And all his hospitality

How much to them I owe,
To the wronged daughter of his friend, My cheeks have often been ledewed
By more than woman's jealousy

With tears of thoughtful gratitude.
Brought thus to a disgraceful end.
He rolled his eye with stern regard

My thoughts are with the dead; with them Upon the gentle minstrel bard,

I live in long-past years; And said in tones abrupt, austere,

Their virtues love, their faults condenin, Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here? Partake their hopes and fears, I bade thee hence!" The bard obeyed; And from their lessons seek and find And turning from his own sweet maid, Instruction with an humble mind. The aged knight, Sir Leoline, Led forth the Lady Geraldine !

My hopes are with the dead; anon

My place with them will he,

And I with them shall travel on

Through all futurity:
A LITTLE child, a limber elf,

Yet leaving here a name, I trust,
Singing, dancing to itself,

That will not perish in the dust.
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

No stir in the air, no stir in the sea,
Must needs express his love's excess The ship was as still as she could be ;
With words of unmeant bitterness. Her sails from heaven received no motion,
Perhaps 't is pretty to force together Her keel was steady in the ocean.
Thoughts so all unlike each other;
To mutter and mock a broken charm, Without eithersign or sound of their shock
To dally with wrong that does no harm. The waves towed over the Inchcape Rock;

So little they rose, so little they fell, On the deck the Rover takes his stand, They did not move the Inchcape Bell. So dark it is they see no land.

Quoth Sir Ralph, “It will be lighter soon, The good old Abbot of Aberbrothok For there is the dawn of the rising moon. Had placed that bell on the Inchcape

Rock; On a buoy in the storm it floated and “Caust hear," said one, “the breakers

roar! swung,

For inethinks we should be near the shore; ind over the waves its warning rung. Now where we are I cannot tell, When the Rock was hid by the surges But I wish I could hearthe Inchcape Bell.”

swell, The mariners heard the warning bell;

They hear no sound, the swell is strong; And then they knew the perilous Rock, Though the wind hath fallen, they dritt And blessed the Abbot of Aberbrothok.


Till the vessel strikes with a shivering The sun in heaven was shining gay,

shock: All things were joyful on that day;

Cried they, “It is the Inchcape Rock!" The sea-birds screamed as they wheeled around,

Sir Ralph the Rover tore his hair, And there was joyance in their sound.

He cursed himself in his despair;

The waves rush in on every side, The buoy of the Inchcape Bell was seen The ship is sinking beneath the tide. A darker speck on the ocean green; Sir Ralplı the Rover walked his deck, But even in his dying fear And he fixed his eye on the darker speck. One dreadful sound could the Rover hear,

A sound as if with the Inchcape Bell
He felt the cheering power of spring, The tiends below were ringing his knell.
It made him whistle, it made him sing;
His heart was mirthful to excess,
But the Rover's mirth was wickedness.

His eye was on the Inchcape float;
Quoth he, “My men, put out the boat, One day to Helbeck I had strolled,
And row me to the Inchcape Rock, Among the Crossfell Hills,
And I'll plague the priest of Aberbro- And, resting in the rocky grove,

Sat listening to the rills,
The boat is lowered, the boatmen row,

The while to their sweet undersong
And to the Inchcape Rock they go; The birds sang blithe around,
Sir Ralph bent over from the boat,

And the soft west-wind awoke the wood And he cut the bell from the Inchcape

To an intermitting sound.
Down sank the bell, with a gurgling sound, Louder or fainter, as it rose
The bubbles rose and burst around;

Or died away, was borne
Quoth Sir Ralph, “The next who comes

The harmony of merry bells to the Rock

From Brough, that pleasant morn. Won't bless the Abbot of Aberbrothok."

Why are the merry bells of Brough, Sir Ralph the Rover sailed away,

My friend, so few?” said I;
He scoured the seas for many a day; “They disappoint the expectant ear,
And now, grown rich with plundered store,

Which they should gratify.
He steers his course for Scotland's shore.

“One, two, three, four; one, two, three, So thick a haze o'erspreads the sky They cannot see the sun on high;

'Tis still one, two, three, four: The wind hath blown a gale all day, Mellow and silvery are the tones; At evening it hath died away.

But I wish the bells were more!”


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