Knells us back to a world of death.
These words Sir Leoline first said,
When he rose and found his lady dead: 335 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! 345 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, 350 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; 355 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 Borrodale.
The air is still! through mist and cloud 360 That merry peal comes ringing loud; And Geraldine shakes off her dread, And rises lightly from the bed;
(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:
"Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses are fleet,
Whereat the Knight turned wildly Ye must ride up the hall,round,
And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid
So sweet, More loud than your horses' echoing feet!
The lady fell, and clasped his knees, Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflow- ing;
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,
"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 560 With music strong and saintly song To wander through the forest bare, Lest aught unholy loiter there."
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, 580 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
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.
Might prove her dear lord's joy and (O sorrow and shame should this be true!) pride!
Such giddiness of heart and brain 675 Comes seldom save from rage and pain, So talks as it's most used to do.
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