The hallowed hour was near at hand. She sighs

Amid the timbrels, and the thronged resort Of whisperers in anger, or in sport;

He ventures in: let no buzzed whisper

tell;

All eyes be muffled; or a hundred swords Will storm his heart, Love's fev'rous citadel.

For him, those chambers held barbarian hordes,

85

Hyena foemen, and hot-blooded lords,
Whose very dogs would execrations howl
Against his lineage: not one breast affords.
Him any mercy, in that mansion foul,
Save one old beldame, weak in body and in
soul.

XI

90

Ah, happy chance! the agèd creature came,
Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand,
To where he stood, hid from the torch's
flame,

Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond
The sound of merriment and chorus

bland.

95

He startled her; but soon she knew his face,

And grasped his fingers in her palsied hand,

XXXII

XXXV

Thus whispering, his warm, unnervèd

arm

Sank in her pillow.

dream

By the dusk curtains charm

280

Shaded was her

"Ah, Porphyro!" said she, "but even now Thy voice was at sweet tremble in mine

ear,

310

The blisses of her dream so pure and deep, At which fair Madeline began to weep, And moan forth witless words with many