But neither heat, nor frost, nor thunder, Shall wholly do away, I ween, The marks of that which once hath been. Sir Leoline, a moment's space, Stood gazing on the damsel's face: And the youthful Lord of Tryermaine Came back upon his heart again. Oh then the Baron forgot his age, His noble heart swelled high with rage; He swore by the wounds in Jesu's side, He would proclaim it far and wide With trump and solemn heraldry, That they who thus had wrong'd the dame Were base as spotted infamy! -. "And if they dare deny the same, My herald shall appoint a week, And let the recreant traitors seek My tourney court--that there and then I may dislodge their reptile souls From the bodies and forms of men!'' He spake: his eye in lightning rolls! For the lady was ruthlessly seized; and he kenned In the beautiful lady the child of his friend. And now the tears were on his face, And fondly in his arms he took Fair Geraldine, who met the embrace, Prolonging it with joyous look. Which when she viewed, a vision fell Upon the soul of Christabel, The vision of fear, the touch and pain! She shrunk and shudder'd, and saw again-- (Ah! woe is me! Was it for thee, Thou gentle maid! such sights to see?) Again she saw that bosom old, Again she felt that bosom cold, And drew in her breath with a hissing sound: Whereat the Knight turn'd wildly round, And nothing saw but his own sweet maid, With eyes upraised, as one that pray'd. The touch, the sight, had pass'd away, And in its stead that vision blest, Which comforted her after-rest, While in the lady's arms she lay, Had put a rapture in her breast, And on her lips and o'er her eyes Spread smiles like light! With new surprise, "What ails then my beloved child?" The Baron said--His daughter mild Made answer, "All will yet be well!" I ween she had no power to tell Aught else: so mighty was the spell. Yet he, who saw this Geraldine, Had deemed her sure a thing divine, Such sorrow with such grace she blended, As if she feared she had offended Sweet Christabel, that gentle maid! And with such lowly tones she pray'd, She might be sent without delay Home to her father's mansion. "Nay! Nay, by my soul!" said Leoline. "Ho! Bracy the bard, the charge be thine! Go thou, with music sweet and loud, And take two steeds with trappings proud, And take the youth whom thou lov'st best To bear thy harp and learn thy song, And clothe you both in solemn vest, And over the mountains haste along, Lest wandering folk that are abroad Detain you on the valley road. And when he has cross'd the Irthing flood, My merry bard! he hastes, he hastes Up Knorren moor, through Halegarth Wood, And reaches soon that castle good Which stands and threatens Scotland's wastes. "Bard Bracy! bard Bracy! your horses are fleet, Ye must ride up the hall, your music so sweet, More loud than your horses' echoing feet!