And nothing saw, but his own sweet maid
    With eyes upraised, as one that prayed.

    The touch, the sight, had passed away,
      And in its stead that vision blest,
      Which comforted her after-rest,
    While in the lady's arms she lay,
      Had put a rapture in her breast,
    And on her lips and o'er her eyes
    Spread smiles like light!
                           With new surprise,
    'What ails then my beloved child?'
    The Baron said- His daughter mild
    Made answer, 'All will yet be well!'
    I ween, she had no power to tell
    Aught else: so mighty was the spell.

    Yet he who saw this Geraldine,
    Had deemed her sure a thing divine.
    Such sorrow with such grace she blended,
    As if she feared she had offended
    Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid!
    And with such lowly tones she prayed
    She might be sent without delay
    Home to her father's mansion.
                                        'Nay!
    Nay, by my soul!' said Leoline.
    'Ho! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine!
    Go thou, with music sweet and loud,
    And take two steeds with trappings proud,
    And take the youth whom thou lov'st best
    To bear thy harp, and learn thy song,
    And clothe you both in solemn vest,
    And over the mountains haste along,
    Lest wandering folk, that are abroad,
    Detain you on the valley road.

    'And when he has crossed the Irthing flood,
    My merry bard! he hastes, he hastes
    Up Knorren Moor, through Halegarth Wood,
    And reaches soon that castle good
    Which stands and threatens Scotland's wastes.

    'Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses are fleet,
    Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet,
    More loud than your horses' echoing feet!
    And loud and loud to Lord Roland call,
    Thy daughter is safe in Langdale hall!
    Thy beautiful daughter is safe and free-
    Sir Leoline greets thee thus through me.
    He bids thee come without delay
    With all thy numerous array;
    And take thy lovely daughter home:
    And he will meet thee on the way
    With all his numerous array
    White with their panting palfreys' foam:
    And, by mine honor! I will say,
    That I repent me of the day
    When I spake words of fierce disdain
    To Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine!-
    - For since that evil hour hath flown,
    Many a summer's sun hath shone;
    Yet ne'er found I a friend again
    Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine.'

    The lady fell, and clasped his knees,
    Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing;
    And Bracy replied, with faltering voice,
    His gracious hail on all bestowing;
    'Thy words, thou sire of Christabel,
    Are sweeter than my harp can tell;
    Yet might I gain a boon of thee,
    This day my journey should not be,
    So strange a dream hath come to me;
    That I had vowed with music loud
    To clear yon wood from thing unblest,
    Warned by a vision in my rest!
    For in my sleep I saw that dove,
    That gentle bird, whom thou dost love,
    And call'st by thy own daughter's name-
    Sir Leoline! I saw the same,
    Fluttering, and uttering fearful moan,
    Among the green herbs in the forest alone.
    Which when I saw and when I heard,
    I wondered what might ail the bird;
    For nothing near it could I see,
    Save the grass and herbs underneath the old tree.
    And in my dream methought I went
    To search out what might there be found;
    And what the sweet bird's trouble meant,
    That thus lay fluttering on the ground.
    I went and peered, and could descry
    No cause for her distressful cry;
    But yet for her dear lady's sake
    I stooped, methought, the dove to take,
    When lo! I saw a bright green snake
    Coiled around its wings and neck.
    Green as the herbs on which it couched,
    Close by the dove's its head it crouched;
    And with the dove it heaves and stirs,