Awakens the lady Christabel.
    'Sleep you, sweet lady Christabel?
    I trust that you have rested well.'

    And Christabel awoke and spied
    The same who lay down by her side-
    O rather say, the same whom she
    Raised up beneath the old oak tree!
    Nay, fairer yet! and yet more fair!
    For she belike hath drunken deep
    Of all the blessedness of sleep!
    And while she spake, her looks, her air,
    Such gentle thankfulness declare,
    That (so it seemed) her girded vests
    Grew tight beneath her heaving breasts.
    'Sure I have sinned!' said Christabel,
    'Now heaven be praised if all be well!'
    And in low faltering tones, yet sweet,
    Did she the lofty lady greet
    With such perplexity of mind
    As dreams too lively leave behind.

    So quickly she rose, and quickly arrayed
    Her maiden limbs, and having prayed
    That He, who on the cross did groan,
    Might wash away her sins unknown,
    She forthwith led fair Geraldine
    To meet her sire, Sir Leoline.
    The lovely maid and the lady tall
    Are pacing both into the hall,
    And pacing on through page and groom,
    Enter the Baron's presence-room.

    The Baron rose, and while he prest
    His gentle daughter to his breast,
    With cheerful wonder in his eyes
    The lady Geraldine espies,
    And gave such welcome to the same,
    As might beseem so bright a dame!

    But when he heard the lady's tale,
    And when she told her father's name,
    Why waxed Sir Leoline so pale,
    Murmuring o'er the name again,
    Lord Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine?
    Alas! they had been friends in youth;
    But whispering tongues can poison truth;
    And constancy lives in realms above;
    And life is thorny; and youth is vain;
    And to be wroth with one we love
    Doth work like madness in the brain.
    And thus it chanced, as I divine,
    With Roland and Sir Leoline.
    Each spake words of high disdain
    And insult to his heart's best brother:
    They parted- ne'er to meet again!
    But never either found another
    To free the hollow heart from paining-
    They stood aloof, the scars remaining,
    Like cliffs which had been rent asunder;
    A dreary sea now flows between.
    But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder,
    Shall wholly do away, I ween,
    The marks of that which once hath been.
    Sir Leoline, a moment's space,
    Stood gazing on the damsel's face:
    And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine
    Came back upon his heart again.

    O then the Baron forgot his age,
    His noble heart swelled high with rage;
    He swore by the wounds in Jesu's side
    He would proclaim it far and wide,
    With trump and solemn heraldry,
      That they, who thus had wronged the dame
    Were base as spotted infamy!
      'And if they dare deny the same,
    My herald shall appoint a week,
    And let the recreant traitors seek
      My tourney court- that there and then
    I may dislodge their reptile souls
      From the bodies and forms of men!'
    He spake: his eye in lightning rolls!
    For the lady was ruthlessly seized; and he kenned
    In the beautiful lady the child of his friend!

    And now the tears were on his face,
      And fondly in his arms he took
    Fair Geraldine who met the embrace,
      Prolonging it with joyous look.
    Which when she viewed, a vision fell
    Upon the soul of Christabel,
    The vision of fear, the touch and pain!
    She shrunk and shuddered, and saw again-
    (Ah, woe is me! Was it for thee,
    Thou gentle maid! such sights to see?)
      Again she saw that bosom old,
      Again she felt that bosom cold,
    And drew in her breath with a hissing sound:
    Whereat the Knight turned wildly round,