So up she rose, and forth they pass'd,

With hurrying steps, yet nothing fast ;
Her lucky stars the lady blest,

And Christabel she sweetly said-
All our household are at rest,

Each one sleeping in his bed ;
Sir Leoline is weak in health,
And may not well awaken'd be;

So to my room we'll creep in stealth,

And you to-night must sleep 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 thro' 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 mov❜d, 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 cross'd 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 nitch in the wall.

O softly tread, said Christabel,

My father seldom sleepeth well.

Sweet Christabel her feet she bares,

And they are creeping up the stairs ;
Now in glimmer, and now in gloom,
And now they pass the Baron's room,
As still as death with stifled breath!

And now have reach'd her chamber door;
And now with eager feet press down
The rushes of her chamber floor.

The moon shines dim in the open air,

And not a moonbeam enters here.

But they without its light can see

The chamber carv'd so curiously,

Carv'd 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 fasten'd 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?