How sometimes from the savage den, 65 And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once, In green and sunny glade;

18

There came and look'd him in the face An Angel beautiful and bright, 70 And how he knew it was a Fiend, This mis'rable Knight!

19

And how, unknowing what he did, He leapt amid a lawless band, And sav'd from outrage worse than death 75 The Ladie of the Land.

20

And how she wept, and clasp'd his knees, And how she tended him in vain, And meekly strove to expiate The scorn that craz'd his brain; 80

21

And how she nurs'd him in a cave; And how his madness went away, When on the yellow forest leaves A dying man he lay;

22

His dying words--but when I reach'd 85 That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My fault'ring voice and pausing harp Disturb'd her soul with pity.

23

All impulses of soul and sense Had thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve-- 90 The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;

24

And hopes and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng; And gentle wishes long subdu'd, 95 Subdu'd and cherish'd long.

25

She wept with pity and delight-- She blush'd with love and maiden shame, And like the murmurs of a dream, I heard her breathe my name. 100

26

I saw her bosom heave and swell, Heave and swell with inward sighs-- I could not choose but love to see Her gentle bosom rise.

27

Her wet cheek glow'd; she stept aside, 105 As conscious of my look she stept; Then suddenly, with tim'rous eye, She flew to me, and wept;

28

She half-inclos'd me with her arms-- She press'd me with a meek embrace; 110 And, bending back her head, look'd up, And gaz'd upon my face.

29

'Twas partly love, and partly fear, And partly 'twas a bashful art, That I might rather feel than see, 115 The swelling of her heart.

30

I calm'd her fears, and she was calm, And told her love with virgin pride; And so I won my Genevieve, My bright and beaut'ous bride. 120

31

And now once more a tale of woe, A woeful tale of love, I sing: For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs, And trembles on the string.

32

When last I sang the cruel scorn 125 That craz'd this bold and lonely Knight, And how he roam'd the mountain woods, Nor rested day or night;

33

I promis'd thee a sister tale Of Man's perfidious cruelty: 130 Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong Befel the Dark Ladie.

_End of the Introduction._

FOOTNOTES:

[1052:1] Published in the _Morning Post_, Dec. 21, 1799. Collated with two MSS.--_MS. (1)_; _MS. (2)_--in the British Museum [Add. MSS.

27,902]. See _Coleridge's Poems_, A Facsimile of the Proofs, &c., edited by the late James d.y.k.es Campbell, 1899. _MS. 1_ consists of thirty-two stanzas (unnumbered), written on nine pages: _MS. 2_ (which begins with stanza 6, and ends with stanza 30) of fourteen stanzas (unnumbered) written on four pages.

LINENOTES:

_t.i.tle_--The Dark Ladie. MS. B. M. (1).

[2] Rose upon] Rose-bud on MS. B. M. (1).

[3] fair] dear erased MS. (1).

[7] mournfully] sad and sweet MS. (1).

[8] in] to MS. (1).

[16] Ladie] Ladie MS. (2).

[20] The song that makes her grieve. MS. (1).

[21-4]

Each thought, each feeling of the Soul, All lovely sights, each tender, name, All, all are ministers of Love, That stir our mortal frame.

MS. (1).

[22] All, all that stirs this mortal frame MS. B. M. (2).

[24] feed] fan MS. (2).