I thought I heard, some minutes past, Sounds as of a castle bell. 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: "O well, bright dame! may you command The service of Sir Leoline; And gladly our stout chivalry Will he send forth and friends withal To guide and guard you safe and free Home to your noble father's hall." She rose: and forth with steps they pass'd That strove to be, and were not, fast. Her gracious stars the lady blest, And thus spake on sweet Christabel: "All our household are at rest, The hall is silent as the cell, Sir Leoline is weak in health And may not well awaken'd be, But we will move as if in stealth; And I beseech your courtesy This night, to share your couch with me." They crossed the moat, and Christabel Took the key that fitted well; A little door she open'd straight, 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 through 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 moved, 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 Lay fast asleep, in moonshine cold. The mastiff old did not awake, Yet she an angry moan did make! And what can ail the mastiff bitch? Never till now she uttered yell 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 A tongue of light, a fit of flame; And Christabel saw the lady's eye, And nothing else saw she thereby, Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall, "O softly tread," said Christabel, "My father seldom sleepeth well." Sweet Christabel her feet doth bare, And, jealous of the listening air, They steal their way from stair to stair, Now in glimmer, and now in gloom, And now they pass the Baron's room, As still as death, with stifled breath! And now have reach'd her chamber door; And now doth Geraldine press down The rushes of the chamber floor. The moon shines dim in the open air, And not a moonbeam enters here. But they without its light can see The chamber carved so curiously, Carved with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain,