To walk together to the kirk, While each to his great Father bends, And to teach, by Farewell, farewell! but this I tell his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth. He prayeth best, who loveth best The Mariner, whose eye is bright, He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn : A sadder and a wiser man, CHRISTABEL. PREFACE.* THE first part of the following poem was written in the year 1797, at Stowey, in the county of Somerset. The second part, after my return from Germany, in the year 1800, at Keswick, Cumberland. It is probable, that if the poem had been finished at either of the former periods, or if even the first and second part had been published in the year 1800, the impression of its originality would have been much greater than I dare at present expect. But for this, I have only my own indolence to blame. The dates are mentioned for the exclusive purpose of precluding charges of plagiarism or servile imitation from myself. For there is amongst us a set of critics, who seem to hold, that every possible thought and image is traditional; who have no notion that there are such things as fountains in the world, small as well as great; and who would therefore charitably derive every rill they behold. flowing, from a perforation made in some other man's tank. I am confident, however, that as far as the present poem is concerned, the celebrated poets whose writings I might be suspected of having imitated, either in particular passages, or in the tone and the spirit of the whole, would be among the first to vindicate me from the charge, and who, on any striking coincidence, would permit me to address them in this doggerel version of two monkish Latin hexameters. 'Tis mine and it is likewise yours; But an if this will not do? Let it be mine, good friend! for I Am the poorer of the two. I have only to add, that the metre of the Christabel is not, properly speaking, irregular, though it may seem so from its being founded on a new principle: namely, that of counting in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be found to be only four. Nevertheless this occasional variation in number of syllables is not introduced wantonly, or for the mere ends of convenience, but in correspondence with some transition, in the nature of the imagery or passion. PART I. 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the owls have awakened the crowing cock; Tu-whit! Tu-whoo! And hark, again! the crowing cock, Sir Leoline, the Baron rich, Hath a toothless mastiff bitch ; From her kennel beneath the rock She maketh answer to the clock, Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour; Is the night chilly and dark? The lovely lady, Christabel, Whom her father loves so well, What makes her in the wood so late, A furlong from the castle-gate? She had dreams all yesternight And she in the midnight wood will pray She stole along, she nothing spoke, The sighs she heaved were soft and low, She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, The lady sprang up suddenly, It moaned as near, as near can be, Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak-tree. The night is chill; the forest bare; From the lovely lady's cheek There is not wind enough to twirl Hush! beating heart of Christabel! Jesu, Maria, shield her well! She folded her arms beneath her cloak, There she sees a damsel bright, That shadowy in the moonlight shone : Mary mother, save me now! The lady strange made answer meet, Have pity on my sore distress, Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear! And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet, My sire is of a noble line, And my name is Geraldine: Five warriors seized me yestermorn, Me, even me, a maid forlorn : They choked my cries with force and fright, The palfrey was as fleet as wind, And they rode furiously behind. They spurred amain, their steeds were white: And once we crossed the shade of night. As sure as Heaven shall rescue me, I have no thought what men they be; Some muttered words his comrades spoke: I thought I heard, some minutes past, Stretch forth thy hand (thus ended she), Then Christabel stretched forth her hand O well, bright dame! may you command And gladly our stout chivalry Will he send forth and friends withal |