owls have awaken'd the crowing cock;
Tu-whit!--Tu-whoo!
And hark, again! the crowing cock,
_How drowsily he crew._
Sir Leoline, the baron rich,
Hath a toothless mastiff bitch;
From her kennel beneath the rock
She maketh answer to the clock,
_Four f[)o]r th[)e] quart[)e]rs [)a]nd twelve f[)o]r th[)e] hour,_
Ever and aye, by shine and shower,
Sixteen short howls, not over loud:
Some say, she sees my lady's shroud.

_Is the night chilly and dark?
The night is chilly, but not dark._
The thin grey cloud is spread on high,
It covers, but not hides, the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full,
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chilly, the cloud is grey;

(These are not superfluities, but mysterious returns of importunate
feeling)

_'Tis a month before the month of May,
And the spring comes slowly up this way._
The lovely lady, Christabel,
Whom her father loves so well,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle-gate?

She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she [)i]n th[)e] midnight wood will pray
For the weal [)o]f h[)e]r lover that's far away.

She stole along, she nothing spoke,
The sighs she heav'd were soft and low,
And nought was green upon the oak,
But moss and rarest mistletoe;
She kneels beneath the huge oak tree,
And in silence prayeth she.

The lady sprang up suddenly,
The lovely lady, Christabel!
It moan'd as near as near can be,
But what it is, she cannot tell.
On the other side it seems to be
Of th[)e] huge, broad-breasted, old oak tree.

The night is chill, the forest bare;
Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?

(This 'bleak moaning' is a witch's)

There is not wind enough in the air
To move away the ringlet curl
From the lovely lady's cheek--
There is not wind enough to twirl
_The one red leaf, the last [)o]f [)i]ts clan,
That danc[)e]s [)a]s oft[)e]n [)a]s dance it can,
Hang[)i]ng s[)o] light and hang[)i]ng s[)o] high,
On th[)e] topmost twig th[)a]t lo[)o]ks up [)a]t th[)e] sky._

Hush, beating heart of Christabel!
Jesu Maria, shield her well!
She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
And stole to the other side of the oak.
What sees she there?

There she sees a damsel bright,
Drest in a rob