er 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?'

Whatever it may be that ails the bitch, the ladies pass forward, and
take off their shoes, and tread softly all the way upstairs, as
Christabel observes that her father is a bad sleeper. At last, however,
they do arrive at the bed-room, and comfort themselves with a dram of
some homemade liquor, which proves to be very old; for it was made by
Lady C.'s mother; and when her new friend asks if she thinks the old
lady will take her part, she answers, that this is out of the question,
in as much as she happened to die in childbed of her. The mention of the
old lady, however, gives occasion to the following pathetic
couplet.--Christabel says,

'O mother dear, that thou wert here!
I would, said Geraldine, she were!'

A very mysterious conversation next takes place between Lady Geraldine
and the old gentlewoman's ghost, which proving extremely fatiguing to
her, she again has recourse to the bottle--and with excellent effect, as
appears by these lines.

'Again the wild-flower wine she drank;
Her fair large eyes 'gan glitter bright,
'And from the floor whereon she sank,
The lofty Lady stood upright:
She was most beautiful to see,
Like a Lady of a far countree.'

--From which, we may gather among other points, the exceeding great
beauty of all women who live in a distant place, no matter where. The
effects of the cordial speedily begin to appear; as no one, we imagine,
will doubt, that to its influence must be ascribed the following
speech--

'And thus the lofty lady spake--
All they, who live in the upper sky,
Do love you, holy Christabel!
And you love them--and for their sake
And for the good which me befel,
Even I in my degree will try,
Fair maiden, to requite you well.'

Before going to bed, Lady G. kneels to pray, and desires her friend to
undress, and lie down; which she does 'in her loveliness;' but being
curious, she leans 'on her elbow,' and looks toward the fair
devotee,--where she sees something which the poet does not think fit to
tell us very explicitly.

'Her silken robe, and inner vest,
Dropt to her f