Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear, Said Christabel, How cam'st thou here? And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet, Did thus pursue her answer meet :— My sire is of a noble line, And my name is Geraldine. Five warriors seiz'd me yestermorn, Me, even me, a maid forlorn : They chok'd my cries with force and fright, And tied me on a palfrey white. The palfrey was as fleet as wind, And they rode furiously behind. They spurr'd amain, their steeds were white; And once we cross'd the shade of night. As sure as Heaven shall rescue me, I have no thought what men they be ; Nor do I know how long it is (For I have lain in fits, I wis) Since one, the tallest of the five, Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke: He swore they would return with haste; I thought I heard, some minutes past, Stretch forth thy hand (thus ended she), And help a wretched maid to flee. Then Christabel stretch'd forth her hand And comforted fair Geraldine, Saying, that she should command The service of Sir Leoline; And straight be convoy'd, free from thrall, Back to her noble father's hall. So up she rose, and forth they pass'd, And Christabel she sweetly said- Each one sleeping in his bed ; They cross'd the moat, and Christabel All in the middle of the gate ; The gate that was iron'd within and without, Where an army in battle array had march'd out. The lady sank, belike thro' pain, And Christabel with might and main Lifted her up, a weary weight, Over the threshold of the gate : Then the lady rose again, And mov'd, as she were not in pain. So free from danger, free from fear, They cross'd the court: right glad they were. And Christabel devoutly cried, To the lady by her side, Praise we the Virgin all divine Who hath rescued thee from thy distress! Alas, alas! said Geraldine, I cannot speak for weariness. So free from danger, free from fear, They cross'd the court: right glad they were. Outside her kennel, the mastiff old Yet she an angry moan did make! Beneath the eye of Christabel. Perhaps it is the owlet's scritch: For what can ail the mastiff bitch? They pass'd the hall, that echoes still, Pass as lightly as you will! The brands were flat, the brands were dying, Amid their own white ashes lying; But when the lady pass'd, there came |