Idyls and Songs :: :: University of Virginia Library

‘O there is truth on nurse's lips,
And foresight in the breast of age:
The lips her lips have touch'd so oft;
The breast her baby cradle soft,
And slumber's anchorage.

IV.

‘For she no more thy scarf shall bind,
To deck thee for the wars with weeping;
No more her bower with roses wind,
And greet thee with a rosy greeting.

V.

‘Then stay, fair youth, thy courser stay,
In Langdale Halls content to dwell.
Youth comforts Age: sole comfort left
To father of his child bereft,
The father of thy Christabel.’

VI.

—‘None dearer hold her Sire than I;
Yet past Sir Leoline I prize her:
The words of Age are Wisdom's words,
And yet the lips of Love are wiser.

VII.

‘Last night beyond the gate I stray'd;
I stood beneath the old oak tree:
I look'd in silence on the stars,
And the silent stars look'd down on me.

VIII.

‘I thought of vanish'd Christabel,
And pray'd sweet Mary grant a sign:—
—Two eyes slid downward from the stars;
The eyes of Lady Geraldine.

IX.

‘The keen eyes rested in the tree;
A voice came forth from blank below:
“Would'st see thy vanish'd love again,
—Seek her in Breton Charliot.

X.

“The many chamber'd castle-walls
For bashful maid are fitting coverts;
Seek out the room where last she slept,
And love shall sleep the sleep of lovers.”

XI.

‘Now forth to castled Charliot!’
—The good gray steed neigh'd proud and high;
The bugle blew, the flint sparks flew;
God speed the gallant and the true
To triumph or to die!

II. Part II.

I.

Nurse Agnes stood in Langdale gate:
She heard young Bracy go:
For young Bracy's sake and Sir Leoline's,
A prayer she whispers low.

II.

Sir Leoline lay at the gates of death,
Nor pray'd, nor spoke nor stirr'd:
Nor save by Agnes' trembling ear,
His breathing could be heard.

III.

She hears his breathing faint and slow,
She says ‘God's will be done:
But I have lost a son to-day,
And he has lost a son.

IV.

‘For I too pray'd to Mary Queen,
And I beheld a sign:
And on the midnight of mine eyes
Came Lady Geraldine.

V.

‘She cursed thee, O Sir Leoline,
She cursed thy daughter sweet:
She cursed the gallant and the bold:
She bade him seek the maiden meek
Lies buried in the mould.

VI.

‘She bade him go to Charliot,
She laugh'd that he should go:
For he should die with foul fiends by,
And by the wall lie low:
Chill and bare to midnight air,
For she would work him woe;
And she would go to Charliot
And laugh to meet him there.’

VII.

She thought of vanish'd Christabel,
She cursed the jealous angry spell,
(And cross'd herself with holy sign);
That wrought so on the aged knight,
When, to work out her fiendish spite
He gave his own true daughter bright
A prey to Lady Geraldine.

VIII.

Nurse Agnes turned to Sir Leoline;
She said: he slumbers calm and deep:
On the carven bench she sate her low,
And dreams were with her in her sleep.

IX.

A weary way, a weary way,
She saw the gallant Bracy go:
She saw him stand on Thames' fair strand,
She saw him touch the southern land,
And on to Breton Charliot.

X.

A weary way, a dreary road:
A dun-wove cloud of driving snow:
By forest hoar, by rivers frore,
O'er ice that hung from shore to shore,
While deep beneath the currents pour,
And still o'erhead where'er he sped,
Two drifting seams of azure go.

XI.

By dark Rouen, by Lisieux,
By Caen-sur-Orne and gray Bayeux;
Avranches, and where the holy Mount
Frowns on Saint Malo strand:
And where o'er Merlin's wizard fount,
Enwreathed along the valley stand
The giant glades of Brocelyande.

XII.

Now, stain'd upon an amber sky,
The blackening turrets he can spy,
Tall warders of the waste afar;
Grim giant terrors of the foe,
As o'er Roannez' plain they go,
And pride of wild Armorica.

III. Part III.

I.

Thro' many-chamber'd Charliot
He wanders high, he wanders low,
Thro' echoing hall and wizard cell;
Nine times pacing, high and low,
Nor any trace of Christabel.

II.

Each door a frame of claspéd oak:
Each narrow casement iron-barr'd:
Each wall a height of tapestry'd rags:
Each floor a square of sounding flags:
‘Sure gentle maid was never laid
On couch so harsh and hard.’

III.

And here he sees a silken braid,
And here a golden whistle;
And here a fragrant necklace laid
Beneath a blazon'd missal.

IV.

But when with quicken'd quest again
The wizard cells he paces,
His spell-bewilder'd eyes in vain
Demand the fancied traces.

V.

As one that strays with sweet amaze
Within the glades of glamour:
And hears around an elvish sound,
A merry midnight clamour:—

VI.

And now through all the glade 'tis mute,
And fear replaces wonder;
His own feet make thro' fern and brake,
A sound more dread than thunder.

VII.

—Nine days are gone, nine days as one,
And Bracy hears the vesper bell;
He prays he there might close his life,
So he find not his holy wife,
His sweet betrothéd Christabel.

VIII.

He kneels with calm wide-open'd eyes,
And sweet sleep takes him as he sighs:
He sleeps with fix'd wide-open'd eyes.

IX.

With fix'd uneasy gazing eyes;
And Langdale towers before him rise;
There on death-couch the Baron lies;
And there the Lady Geraldine
Holds off her sire with spell and sign,
From the death-bed of Sir Leoline.

X.

Why dost thou start, Sir Leoline?
Thine own friend's hand is laid in thine;
The voice thou so long since would'st hear
Sounds in thine ear,
And whispers its forgiving love:
—In one forgiveness two forgiven,—
One that fled thence above,
And one assoil'd for heaven!

XI.

And is it truth or is it seeming?
He hears the midnight bell in dreaming;
He sees Lord Roland of Triermaine
Take Sir Leoline's hand again,
Nor heed the cry of Geraldine,
Nor by her sad unholy sign
And serpent-glance affrighted—
And lay his hand on the Baron's heart—
—Love united so to part,
Yet better so united—
He sees him sign the cross in dreaming;
Is it truth or is it dreaming?

XII.

And now beneath the old oak tree,
At midnight hour he seems to be:
Again he hears the midnight chiming:
Again he sees the green snake twining
Around the bird he loved so well,
Parentless in deep distress,
His sweet betrothéd Christabel!
And now he stoops the bird to take,
For none but for her own dear sake,
And the green snake lifts her head and flies—

XIII.

—Waking wide with blithe surprise,
And a glory round his eyes,
The midnight bell he heareth well,
And in his arm a maid he grasps,
And tremulous his arm she clasps:

And see her trembling eager eyes—
—But ere the gather'd dew-drops fell,
Love look'd forth without disguise,
For ever loosed from doubt and spell,
For ever his sweet Christabel!

XIV.

He kiss'd her on the gentle lips,
He kiss'd her on her forehead pale,
He clasp'd her nearer to his side,
‘My flutter'd Dove—my rescued Bride’—
‘Alas!’ in perfect joy she sigh'd:—
With amorous echo low replied
The sweet soft-sighing nightingale.