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 gray-haired 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 pine! 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! 't is 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 wildered you!' The lady wiped her moist cold brow, And faintly said, ''T is 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 countree. 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 woe, 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 bowed, And slowly rolled her eyes around; Then drawing in her breath aloud, Like one that shuddered, she unbound The cincture from beneath her breast: Her silken robe, and inner vest, Dropped 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,
