eet, and full in view,
Behold! her bosom and half her side--
A sight to dream of, not to tell!
And she is to sleep by Christabel.'

She soon rises, however, from her knees; and as it was not a
double-bedded room, she turns in to Lady Christabel, taking only 'two
paces and a stride.' She then clasps her tight in her arms, and mutters
a very dark spell, which we apprehend the poet manufactured by shaking
words together at random; for it is impossible to fancy that he can
annex any meaning whatever to it. This is the end of it.

'But vainly thou warrest,
For this is alone in
Thy power to declare,
That in the dim forest
Thou heard'st a low moaning,
And found'st a bright lady, surpassingly fair:
And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.'

The consequence of this incantation is, that Lady Christabel has a
strange dream--and when she awakes, her first exclamation is, 'Sure I
have sinn'd'--'Now heaven be praised if all be well!' Being still
perplexed with the remembrance of her 'too lively' dream--she then
dresses herself, and modestly prays to be forgiven for 'her sins
unknown.' The two companions now go to the Baron's parlour, and
Geraldine tells her story to him. This, however, the poet judiciously
leaves out, and only signifies that the Baron recognized in her the
daughter of his old friend Sir Roland, with whom he had had a deadly
quarrel. Now, however, he despatches his tame poet, or laureate, called
Bard Bracy, to invite him and his family over, promising to forgive
every thing, and even make an apology for what had passed. To understand
what follows, we own, surpasses our comprehension. Mr Bracy, the poet,
recounts a strange dream he has just had, of a dove being almost
strangled by a snake; whereupon the Lady Geraldine falls a hissing, and
her eyes grow small, like a serpent's,--or at least so they seem to her
friend; who begs her father to 'send away that woman.' Upon this the
Baron falls into a passion, as if he had discovered that his daughter
had been seduced; at least, we can understand him in no other sense,
though no hint of such a kind is given; but on the contrary, she is
painted to the last moment as full of innocence and
purity.--Nevertheless,

'His heart was cleft with pain and rage,
His cheeks they quiver'd, his eyes were wild,
Dishonour'd thus in his