In sleep She sometimes walked abroad, Deep sighs with quick words blending, Like that pale Queen whose hands are seen With fancied spots contending;[980] 85 But _she_ is innocent of blood,-- The moon is not more pure That shines aloft, while through the wood She thrids her way, the sounding Flood Her melancholy lure! 90 While 'mid the fern-brake sleeps the doe, And owls alone are waking, In white arrayed, glides on the Maid The downward pathway taking, That leads her to the torrent's side 95 And to a holly bower; By whom on this still night descried? By whom in that lone place espied? By thee, Sir Eglamore![981] A wandering Ghost, so thinks the Knight, 100 His coming step has thwarted, Beneath the boughs that heard their vows, Within whose shade they parted. Hush, hush, the busy Sleeper see! Perplexed her fingers seem, 105 As if they from the holly tree Green twigs would pluck, as rapidly Flung from her to the stream. What means the Spectre? Why intent To violate the Tree, 110 Thought Eglamore, by which I swore Unfading constancy? Here am I, and to-morrow's sun, To her I left, shall prove That bliss is ne'er so surely won 115 As when a circuit has been run Of valour, truth, and love. So from the spot whereon he stood, He moved with stealthy pace; And, drawing nigh, with his living eye,[982] 120 He recognised the face; And whispers caught, and speeches small, Some to the green-leaved tree, Some muttered to the torrent-fall;-- "Roar on, and bring him with thy call; 125 I heard, and so may He!" Soul-shattered was the Knight, nor knew If Emma's Ghost[983] it were, Or boding Shade, or if the Maid Her very self stood there. 130 He touched; what followed who shall tell? The soft touch snapped the thread Of slumber--shrieking back she fell, And the Stream whirled her down the dell Along its foaming bed. 135 In plunged the Knight!--when on firm ground The rescued Maiden lay, Her eyes grew bright with blissful light, Confusion passed away; She heard, ere to the throne of grace 140 Her faithful Spirit flew, His voice--beheld his speaking face; And, dying, from his own embrace, She felt that he was true.