FIRST PART OF CHRISTABEL.

Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the owls have awaken'd 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 bitch;

From her kennel beneath the rock

She 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:
'Tis 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;

Dreams that made her moan and leap
As on her bed she lay in sleep;
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,
Drest 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-vein'd feet unsandal'd were,
And wildly glitter'd here and there.
The gems entangled in her hair.

I guess, 'twas frightful there to sec
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 swect,
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 cross'd 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 mutter'd 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 stretch'd 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 pass'd
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 as silent as the cell;

Sir Leoline is weak in health,
And may not well awaken'd be,

But we will move as if in stealth,

And I beseech your courtesy,

This night, to share your couch with me."

They cross'd the moat, and Christabel

Took the key that fitted well;

A little door she open'd straight,

All in the middle of the gate;

The gate that was iron'd within and without, Where an army in battle array had march'd 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 cross'd 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 utter'd yell
Beneath the eye of Christabel.
Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch:

For what can ail the mastiff bitch?

They pass'd 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 pass'd, 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,
And still as death, with stifled breath!
And now have reach'd 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.