But they without its light can see
The chamber carved so curiously,
Carved with figures strange and sweet,
All made out of the carver's brain,
For a lady's chamber meet:

The lamp with twofold silver chain

Is fastened to an angel's feet.

The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But Christabel the lamp will trim.

She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,

And left it swinging to and fro,

While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
Sank down upon the floor below.

'O weary lady, Geraldine,

I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
It is a wine of virtuous powers;
My mother made it of wild flowers.'

'And will your mother pity me,
Who am a maiden most forlorn ?'
Christabel answered -'Woe is me!
She died the hour that I was born.
I have heard the grey-hair'd friar tell,
How on her death-bed she did say,
That she should hear the castle-bell
Strike twelve upon my wedding-day.
O mother dear! that thou wert here!'
'I would,' said Geraldine, 'she were!'

But soon with altered voice, said she-
'Off, wandering mother! Peak and pinci
I have power to bid thee flee.'
Alas! what ails poor Geraldine?
Why stares she with unsettled eye?
Can she the bodiless dead espy?
And why with hollow voice cries she,
'Off, woman, off! this hour is mine-
Though thou her guardian spirit be,
Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me.'

Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
And raised to heaven her eyes so blue-
'Alas!' said she, 'this ghastly ride-
Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you!'
The lady wiped her moist cold brow,
And faintly said, "Tis over now!'

Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
And from the floor whereon she sank,
The lofty lady stood upright:
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a lady of a far countrée.

And thus the lofty lady spake-
'All they who live in the upper sky,
Do love you, holy Christabel!

And you love them, and for their sake
And for the good which me befell,
Even I in my degree will try,
Fair maiden, to requite you well.
But now unrobe yourself; for I
Must pray, ere yet in bed I lie.'

Quoth Christabel, 'So let it be!'
And as the lady bade, did she
Her gentle limbs did she undress,
And lay down in her loveliness.

But through her brain of weal and wos
So many thoughts moved to and fro,
That vain it were her lids to close;
So half-way from the bed she rose,
And on her elbow did recline
To look at the lady Geraldine.

Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,
And slowly roll'd her eyes around;
Then drawing in her breath aloud
Like one that shudder'd. she unbound

The cincture from beneath her breast:
Her silken robe, and inner vest,
Dropt to her feet, and full in view,
Behold! her bosom and half her side-
A sight to dream of, not to tell!
O shield her! shield sweet Christabel!

Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs ;
Ah! what a stricken look was hers!
Deep from within she seems half-way
To lift some weight with sick assay,
And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
Then suddenly, as one defied,
Collects herself in scorn and pride,
And lay down by the maiden's side!-
And in her arms the maid she took,
Ah well-a-day!

And with low voice and doleful look

These words did say:

'In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell, Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel! Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow, This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow; But vainly thou warrest,

For this is alone in

Thy power to declare,

That in the dim forest

Thou heard'st a low moaning,

And found'st a bright lady, surpassingly fair; And didst bring her home with thee in love

and in charity,

To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

IN SEVEN PARTS.

An ancient
Mariner

meeteth three
Gallants bid-

den to a wed.

ding-feast,

and detaineth one.

The Wedding-Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old seafaring-man, and constrained to

hear his tale.

PART I

It is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three.

By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

'The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide,
And I am next of kin ;

The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,

'There was a ship,' quoth he.

'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye-
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.

'The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd

Merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the light-house top.

The Mariner The sun came up upon the left,

tells how the

ship sailed

southward

with a good

Out of the sea came he!

And he shone bright, and on the right

wind and fair Went down into the sea.

weather, till

it reached the line.

'Higher and higher every day,

Till over the mast at noon-'

The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;

Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

'And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:

He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,

The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,

And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow,

And it grew wondrous cold:

And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen :

Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:

It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and howl'd,
Like noises in a swound!

The Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner continueth his tale.

The ship drawn by a storm toward the south

pole.

The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing was to be seen.