The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge: Poems, Plays, Essays, Lectures, Autobiography & Personal Letters (Illustrated). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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СКАЧАТЬ an army in battle array had marched out.

      The lady sank, belike through pain,

      And Christabel with might and main 130

      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 crossed 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! 140

      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 uttered yell 150

      Beneath the eye of Christabel.

      Perhaps it is the owlet’s scritch:

      For what can ail the mastiff bitch?

      They passed 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 passed, there came

      A tongue of light, a fit of flame;

      And Christabel saw the lady’s eye, 160

      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, 170

      As still as death, with stifled breath!

      And now have reached 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.

      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, 180

      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 trimmed 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, 190

      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-haired friar tell

      How on her deathbed she did say,

      That she should hear the castle-bell 200

      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 — 210

      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 wildered you!

      The lady wiped her moist cold brow,

      And faintly said, “‘tis over now!”

      Again the wildflower wine she drank: 220

      Her fair large eyes ‘gan glitter bright,

      And from the floor whereon she sank,

      The lofty lady stood upright:

      She СКАЧАТЬ