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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 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 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 Wed

PART I.

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.

By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, L
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―
ding-Guest is The Wedding-Guest stood still,
spell-bound

by the eye of And listens like a three years' child: The Mariner hath his will.

the old seafaring-man,

and constrained to

hear his tale.

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

And thus spake on that ancient man,

"The bright-eyed Mariner.

The Mariner

tells how the ship sailed southward

with a good

'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 sun came up upon the left,

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:

At 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.

Till a great sea-bird. called the Albatross, came through

At length did cross an Albatross :
Thorough the fog it came;

As if it had been a Christian soul, the snow-fog, We hail'd it in God's name.

and was received with great joy and hospitality.

And lo! the

Albatross

proveth a bird of good omen,

and followeth the ship as it

returned northward through fog and floating

ice.

The ancient

Mariner inhospitably killeth the

It ate the food it ne'er had eat,
And round and round it flew.

The ice did split with a thunder-fit ;
The helmsman steer'd us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,

And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners' hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch'd for vespers nine;

[white, Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke Glimmer'd the white moon-shine.

'God save thee, ancient Mariner !

From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—

pious bird of Why look'st thou so?'-'With my cross-bow

good omen.

I shot the Albatross!'

His ship

mates cry out against the ancient Mari

ner for killing the bird

of good luck.

PART II.

The Sun now rose upon the right :

Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,

But no sweet bird did follow,

Nor any day for food or play

Came to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe;

For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That made the breeze to blow.

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

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