ChristabelH. Frowde, 1907 - 113 pages |
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¹ Compare Alfoxden Ancient Mariner arms Bard Bracy Baron beautiful beneath bosom breast bright Castle child cloud Coleridge's Christabel copy damsel daughter Dorothy doth dream Edinburgh Review Edition ERNEST HARTLEY COLERIDGE European Magazine eyes fair father's feet finish Christabel gentle green Hall hath Hazlitt High Hesket Hinves Josiah Wedgwood Knorren Kubla Khan lady Christabel Lady Geraldine lady's lamp Lanercost Lanercost Priory Langdale letter lines look Lord Byron lovely lady Lyrical Ballads maid maiden mastiff bitch metre of Christabel moan moon mother MS.W night o'er old oak tree Pain poem poet Poetical poetry pray printed Psellus published Roland de Vaux S.T.C.'s handwriting Samuel Taylor Coleridge Sarah Hutchinson Scott shield Siege of Corinth Sir Leoline Sir Roland sleep smile Southey spirit Stoddart Stowey sweet Christabel thee thou toothless mastiff Triermain verse vide vision whoo wind witch words Wordsworth
Popular passages
Page 113 - I cannot speak for weariness.' So free from danger, free from fear, They crossed the court : right glad they were. Outside her 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 150 Beneath the eye of Christabel.
Page 101 - Christabel is not, properly speaking, irregular, though it may seem so from its being founded on a new principle: namely, that of counting in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be found to be only four.
Page 110 - Some muttered words his comrades spoke: He placed me underneath this oak; He swore they would return with haste; Whither they went I cannot tell — I thought I heard, some minutes past, Sounds as of a castle bell. Stretch forth thy hand (thus ended she), And help a wretched maid to flee.
Page 108 - The lady strange made answer meet, And her voice was faint and sweet:— Have pity on my sore distress, I scarce can speak for weariness: Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear, Said Christabel, how earnest thou here?