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Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall,
Sweet Christabel her feet she bares,
The moon shines dim in the open air,
Carv'd with figures strange and sweet,
The silver lamp burns dead and dim;
But Christabel the lamp will trim.
She trimm'd the lamp, and made it bright,
And left it swinging to and fro,
While Geraldine, in wretched plight,
Sank down upon the floor below.
O weary lady, Geraldine,
I pray you, drink this cordial wine!
And will your mother pity me,
O mother dear! that thou wert here!
I would, said Geraldine, she were!
But soon with alter'd voice, said she— "Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine "I have power to bid thee flee." Alas! what ails poor Geraldine? Why stares she with unsettled eye? Can she the bodiless dead espy? And why with hollow voice cries she, "Off, woman, off! this hour is mine — "Though thou her guardian spirit be, "Off, woman, off 1 'tis given to me."
Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side,
Again the wild-flower wine she drank:
And thus the lofty lady spake —
Even I in my degree will try,
Quoth Christabel, so let it be!
But thro' her brain of weal and woe
Beneath the lamp the lady bow'd,