| «Tis the middle of the night by the castle clock
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| And the owls have awakened the crowing cock
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| Tu-whit! |
| Tu-whoo!
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| And bark again, the crowing cock
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| How drowsily it crew»
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| This exquisite child of the Baron roams
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| Through the forest mesmerized by moonlight alone
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| Here she dreams in fear, for her betrothed knight
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| Until her prayers are torn asunder by a moan of fright
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| What evil secrets lie behind the giant oak?
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| A desperate vision of female perfection dressed in white
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| She glittered to the eye, sensual and luminescent
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| She seems to glow, she seemed to glow…
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| How did she come to the lands of Sir Leoline?
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| Will her prayers protect her night so well?
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| Hush, healing heart of Christabel!
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| Revealed to her upon the asking of maiden lost
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| The name of Geraldine and the story of…
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| Crime against a lady of noble line
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| For she did tell a strange and frightful tale, with voice so sweet
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| She shall enchant, she will entrance
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| Her glow would cast a shadow that would…
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| Swallow the sweet child whole
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| A willing audience here in the wood shrouded cold |
| Left to wait in brisk midnight, by dark and faceless rouges
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| She makes demand on thy lady’s hand
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| To see this maiden home
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| Together women of night make haste for candlelight
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| To the estate of Sir Leoline, to hell it chimes
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| To rest her there for the evening to pass unfold
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| Over the moat to the gate of his chivalry bold
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| Geraldine fell, sweet Christabel
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| Carry her over the threshold well
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| Though up she came as if she never were in pain
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| Past the hearth and into the view of the portrait of Baron
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| But when the lady passed
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| There came a tongue of light, and a fit of flame
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| Thy temptress is divine!
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| «Sweet Christabel, her feet doth bare
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| And jealous of the listening air
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| They steal their way from stair to stair
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| Now in the glimmer, and now in the gloom
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| And now they pass the Baron’s room
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| As still as death, with stifled breath
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| And now they have reached her chamber door
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| And now Geraldine doth press down
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| The rushes of the chamber floor
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| Christabel trims the light
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| And makes it bright again!»
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| The forlorn maiden drinks |
| A wild flower wine for Geraldine
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| Standing now in pride, she summons her savior
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| «Quoth Christabel, so let it be
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| And as the lady bade did she
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| Her gentle limbs dis he undress
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| And lay down in her loveliness.»
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| And as she lay in wait
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| Her heart will race for the night to wait for
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| A sinful view she keeps
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| As robes fall to the maiden’s feet
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| Eves that burn the soul
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| She lay beside this latest prize
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| And in her words she doth told
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| Her prisoner, in arms she holds:
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| «In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell
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| Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel
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| Thou knowest tonight, and wilt know tomorrow
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| This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow.»
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| …Sunrise…
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| Oh what evil night was this?
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| To wake the morn in sinful bliss?
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| Her look askance seethes disease
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| For the dawn hath no rest when by sin she pleased
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| With tear for if her mother near
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| A watching angel hath no fear
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| From her death she came from her desire
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| To be loved, returned by this noble sire
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| But now upon the waking moans of dawn
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| Her magic lay me still at mouth |
| Anxious mements with the drawing in of breath
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| Be still my beating hear, for it doth quake beneath my breast!
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| My father kind and strong for now he gaze upon
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| The beauty that stands before his noble grace
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| Her name and face ring familiar
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| A lost friend by poisoned words
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| So long ago buy now his daughter here
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| The Bard he bade make haste
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| To right the words of time lost wrongs
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| To move swiftly and carry verse to his dear lost friend
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| But the Bard awaits to tell a tale, a dream to him last night
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| A dove with voice of mine, as upon it’s neck a snake doth feed
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| And swelled it’s neck as if swelled hers
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| Christabel escapes the dying trance of beauty
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| And gains her senses, paused, and silently prayed
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| She dare not allow the unholy passions reign
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| As she doth fall to the Barron’s feet
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| So by her father’s countenance she may be saved
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| Here upon the castle floor, she cries in bitter anguish
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| Her secrets of the passing night, she dare not tell
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| Sweet Chrstabel doth pleads for her father to heed her wishes
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| Upon her lost mother’s seal to send the creature |
| Back to the night from whence it came
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| «Within the Baron’s heart and brain
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| If thoughts, like these, had any share
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| They only swelled his rage and pain
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| And did but work confusion there
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| His heart was cleft with pain and rage
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| His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were wild
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| Dishonored thus in his old age:
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| Dishonored by his only child.»
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| «And all his hospitality
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| To the wronged daughter of his friend
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| By more than woman’s jealousy
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| Brought thus to a disgraceful end…
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| He rolled his eye with stern regard
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| Upon the gentle minstrel bard
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| And said in tones abrupt, austere…
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| 'Why Bracy! |
| Dost thou loiter here?!
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| I bade thee hence!' |
| The bard obeyed
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| And turning from his own sweet maid
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| The aged knight, Sir Leoline
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| Led forth the lady Geraldine!» |