Ah, happy chance! the aged creature came,
Shuffling along with ivory-headed wand,
To where he stood, hid from the torch's flame,
Behind a broad hall-pillar, far beyond
The sound of merriment and chorus bland: 95
He startled her; but soon she knew his face,
And grasp'd his fingers in her palsied hand,
Saying, "Mercy, Porphyro! hie thee from this place;
They are all here to-night, the whole bloodthirsty race!
XII
"Get hence! get hence! there's dwarfish Hildebrand; 100
He had a fever late, and in the fit
He cursed thee and thine, both house and land:
Then there's that old Lord Maurice, not a whit
More tame for his gray hairs--Alas me! flit!
Flit like a ghost away."--"Ah, Gossip[154] dear, 105
We're safe enough; here in this armchair sit,
And tell me how"--"Good Saints! not here, not here;
Follow me, child, or else these stones will be thy bier."
XIII
He follow'd through a lowly arched way,
Brushing the cobwebs with his lofty plume; 110
And as she mutter'd "Well-a--well-a-day!"
He found him in a little moonlight room,
Pale, latticed, chill, and silent as a tomb.
"Now tell me where is Madeline," said he,
"O tell me, Angela, by the holy loom[155] 115
Which none but secret sisterhood may see,
When they St. Agnes' wool are weaving piously."
XIV
"St. Agnes! Ah! it is St. Agnes' Eve--
Yet men will murder upon holy days:
Thou must hold water in a witch's sieve,[156] 120
And be liege-lord of all the Elves and Fays,
To venture so: it fills me with amaze
To see thee, Porphyro!--St. Agnes' Eve!
God's help! my lady fair the conjuror plays
This very night: good angels her deceive! 125
But let me laugh awhile, I've mickle[157] time to grieve."
XV
Feebly she laugheth in the languid moon,
While Porphyro upon her face doth look,
Like puzzled urchin on an aged crone
Who keepeth closed a wond'rous riddlebook, 130
As spectacled she sits in chimney nook.
But soon his eyes grew brilliant, when she told
His lady's purpose; and he scarce could brook
Tears, at the thought of those enchantments cold,
And Madeline asleep in lap[158] of legends old. 135
XVI
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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