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But when he heard the lady's tale,
Saith Bracy the bard, So let it knell!
Alas! they had been friends in youth;
The air is still! through mist and cloud
And Christabel awoke and spied
Sure I have sinn'd," said Christabel,
O then the Baron forgot his age !
may dislodge their reptile souls
So quickly she rose, and quickly array'd Her maiden limbs, and having pray'd That He, who on the cross did groan, Might wash away her sins unknown,
And now the tears were on his face,
Which when she view'd, a vision fell
With all his numerous array,
Again she saw that bosom old,
The touch, the sight, had pass'd away,
With new surprise, * What ails then my beloved child ?” The Baron said-Ilis 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 deem'd her sure a thing divine. Such sorrow with such grace she blended, As if she fear'd she had offended Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid! And with such lowly tones she pray'd, She might be sent without delay Home to her father's mansion.
The Lady fell, and clasp'd his knees, Her face upraised, her eyes o'erflowing ; And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, Her 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 vow'd with music loud To clear yon wood from thing unblest, Warn'd 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 wonder'd what might ail the bird : For nothing near it could I see, Save the grass and green herbs underneath the
“ 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 lovest 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 cross'd 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.
And in my dream, methought, I went
“Bard Bracy, bard Bracy! your horses are fleet,
Thus Bracy said : the Baron, the while,
Thy sire and I will crush the snake!
The same, for whom thy lady died.
Her child and thine ?
A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy,
Within the Baron's heart and brain
THE CONCLUSION TO PART II.
The maid, alas! her thoughts are gone,
By my mother's soul do I entreat That thou this woman send away!” She said: and more she could not say; For what she knew she could not tell, O'ermaster'd by the mighty spell.
A LITTLE child, a limber elf,
Why is thy cheek so wan and wild,
A TRAGEDY, IN FIVE ACTS.
If that be gentle, it drops balmy dews MARQUIS VALDEZ, Father to the two brothers, and of true repentance; but if proud and gloomy, Donna Teresa's Guardian.
It is a poison-tree that, pierced to the inmost,
Weeps only tears of poison.
And of a brother, ISIDORE, a Moresco Chieftain, ostensibly a Christian. Dare I hold this, unproved ? nor make one effóri, FAMILIARS OF THE INQUISITION.
To save him?—Hear me, friend! I have yet to tell thee, NAOMI.
That this same life, which be conspired to take, MOORS, SERVANTS, etc.
Himself once rescued from the angry food, Donna TERESA, an Orphan Heiress.
And at the imminent hazard of his own. ALHADRA, Wife to Isidore.
Add too my oath
ZULIYEZ. TIME The reign of Philip II., just at the close of the civil wars against the Moors, and during the The years of absence and of secrecy,
You have thrice told already heat of the persecution which raged against them, To which a forced oath bound you : if in truth shortly after the edict which forbade the wearing a suborn'd murderer have the power to dictate of Moresco apparel under pain of death.
A binding oath
My long captivity
Left me no choice: the very Wish too languish'd
With the fond Hope that nursed it; the sick babe
But (more than all) Teresa's perfidy;
The assassin's strong assurance, when no interest,
No motive could have tempted him to falsehood : SCENE I.
In the first pangs of his awaken'd conscience,
The murderous weapon, pointed at my breast,
Heavy presumption! No sound, no face of joy to welcome us!
It weigh'd not with me-Hark! I will tell thee all: My faithful Zulimez, for one brief moment
As we pass’d by, I bade thee mark the base
Of yonder cliff-
That rocky seat you mean,
Shaped by the billows ?-
There Teresa met me, Thy sands with filial awe, land of my fathers !
The morning of the day of my departure.
We were alone: the purple hue of dawn
And, blending with the blushes on her cheek,
Suffused the tear-drops there with rosy light.
There seem'd a glory round us, and Teresa Remember, Zulimez! I am his brother:
The angel of the vision! [Then with agitation.
Hadst thou seen
How in each motion her most innocent soul
Beam'd forth and brighten'd, thou thyself wouldst ZULIMEZ.
Nobly-minded Alvar! This sure but gives his guilt a blacker dye.
Guilt is a thing impossible in her!
She must be innocent!
ZULIMEZ (with a sigh).
Proceed, my Lord !
Now to the cave beneath the vaulted rock,
Transport whate'er we need to the small dell
In the Alpuxarras—there where Zagri lived. She tied around my neck, conjuring me
ALVAR. With earnest prayers, that I would keep it sacred I know it well : it is the obscurest haunt To my own knowledge: nor did she desist, Of all the mountains [Both stand listening. Till she had won a solemn promise from me,
Voices at a distance ! That (save my own) no eye should e'er behold it Let us away!
[Ereunt. Till my return. Yet this the assassin knew, Knew that which none but she could have disclosed. ZULIMEZ.
Enter TERESA and VALDEZ.
I hold Ordonio dear; he is your son
Love him for himself, The Belgic states : there join'd the better cause;
Nor make the living wretched for the dead. And there too fought as one that courted death! Wounded, I fell among the dead and dying, In death-like trance : a long imprisonment follow'd. I mourn that you should plead in vain, Lord Valdez; The fullness of my anguish by degrees
But heaven hath heard my vow, and I remain
Faithful to Alvar, be he dead or living.
Heaven knows with what delight I saw your loves, Night after night, she visited my sleep,
And could my heart's blood give him back to thee, Now as a saintly sufferer, wan and tearful, I would die smiling. But these are idle thoughts; Now as a saint in glory beckoning to me!
Thy dying father comes upon my soul Yes, still, as in contempt of proof and reason,
With that same look, with which he gave thee to me; I cherish the fond faith that she is guiltless !
I held thee in my arms a powerless babe, Hear then my fix'd resolve: I'll linger here
While thy poor mother with a mute entreaty In the disguise of a Moresco chieftain.
Fix'd her faint eyes on mine. Ah not for this, The Moorish robes ?
That I should let thee feed thy soul with gloom,
And with slow anguish wear away thy life,
The victim of a useless constancy.
I must not see thee wretched.
There are woes
Ill-barter'd for the garishness of joy! of the assassination
If it be wretched with an untired eye
To watch those skiey tints, and this green ocean;
Or in the sultry hour beneath some rock,
My hair dishevell’d by the pleasant sea-breeze,
To shape sweet visions, and live o'er again
All past hours of delight! If it be wretched
To watch some bark, and fancy Alvar there,
To go through each minutest circumstance
Most terrible and strange, and hear him tell them; Will acquit her or convict.
* (As once I knew a crazy Moorish maid
Who drest her in her buried lover's clothes,
Hung with her lute, and play'd the self-same tune Trust the disguise ; and as to my complexion,
He used to play, and listen'd to the shadow
Herself had made)—if this be wretchedness, My long imprisonment, the scanty food,
And if indeed it be a wretched thing This scar,—and toil beneath a burning sun,
To trick out mine own death-bed, and imagine Have done already half the business for us.
That I had died, died just ere his return!
Then see him listening to my constancy,
Here Valdez bends back, and smiles at her wildness,
which Teresa noticing, checks her enthusiasm, and in a sooth
ing half-playful tone and manner, apologizes for her fancy, 'Tis yours, Sir, to command; mine to obey.
by the little tale in the parenthesis.