Volume 2 / Part 2 / Act 4 — H
Reading edition
INTRODUCTION TO THE TALE OF THE DARK LADIE[1052:1]
[Vide ante, p. 330.]
To the Editor of The Morning Post.
Sir,
The following Poem is the Introduction to a somewhat longer one, for which I shall solicit insertion on your next open day. The use of the Old Ballad word, Ladie, for Lady, is the only piece of obsoleteness in it; and as it is professedly a tale of ancient times, I trust, that 'the affectionate lovers of venerable antiquity' (as Camden says) will grant me their pardon, and perhaps may be induced to admit a force and propriety in it. A heavier objection may be adduced against the Author, that in these times of fear and expectation, when novelties explode around us in all directions, he should presume to offer to the public a silly tale of old fashioned love; and, five years ago, I own, I should have allowed and felt the force of this objection. But, alas! explosion has succeeded explosion so rapidly, that novelty itself ceases to appear new; and it is possible that now, even a simple story, wholly unspired [? inspired] with politics or personality, may find some attention amid the hubbub of Revolutions, as to those who have resided a long time by the falls of Niagara, the lowest whispering becomes distinctly audible.
S. T. Coleridge.
1
O leave the Lily on its stem; O leave the Rose upon the spray; O leave the Elder-bloom, fair Maids! And listen to my lay.
2
A Cypress and a Myrtle bough, 5 This morn around my harp you twin'd, Because it fashion'd mournfully Its murmurs in the wind.
3
And now a Tale of Love and Woe, A woeful Tale of Love I sing: 10 Hark, gentle Maidens, hark! it sighs And trembles on the string.
4
But most, my own dear Genevieve! It sighs and trembles most for thee! O come and hear the cruel wrongs 15 Befel the dark Ladie!
5
Few sorrows hath she of her own, My hope, my joy, my Genevieve! She loves me best whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20
6
All thoughts, all passions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.
7
O ever in my waking dreams, 25 I dwell upon that happy hour, When midway on the Mount I sate Beside the ruin'd Tow'r.
8
The moonshine, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve, 30 And she was there, my hope! my joy! My own dear Genevieve!
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She lean'd against the armed Man The statue of the armed Knight— [1055] She stood and listen'd to my harp, 35 Amid the ling'ring light.
10
I play'd a sad and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story, An old rude song, that fitted well The ruin wild and hoary. 40
11
She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace: For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face.
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I told her of the Knight that wore 45 Upon his shield a burning brand. And how for ten long years he woo'd The Ladie of the Land:
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I told her, how he pin'd, and ah! The deep, the low, the pleading tone, 50 With which I sang another's love, Interpreted my own!
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She listen'd with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes and modest grace. And she forgave me, that I gaz'd 55 Too fondly on her face!
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But when I told the cruel scorn, That craz'd this bold and lovely Knight; And how he roam'd the mountain woods, Nor rested day or night; 60
16
And how he cross'd the Woodman's paths, Thro' briars and swampy mosses beat; How boughs rebounding scourg'd his limbs, And low stubs gor'd his feet.
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How sometimes from the savage den, 65 And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once, In green and sunny glade;
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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!
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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.
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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
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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;
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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.
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All impulses of soul and sense Had thrill'd my guiltless Genevieve— 90 The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;
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And hopes and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng; And gentle wishes long subdu'd, 95 Subdu'd and cherish'd long.
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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
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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.
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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;
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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.
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'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.
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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
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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.
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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;
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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:
LINENOTES:
Title—The Dark Ladiè. 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] Ladié 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).
[
25
]
O ever in my lonely walk
erased MS. (1).
In lonely walk and noontide dreams
MS. (1).
O ever when I walk alone
erased MS. (1).
[
26
]
I feed upon that blissful hour
MS. (1).
I feed upon that hour of Bliss
erased MS. (1).
That ruddy eve that blissful hour
erased MS. (1).
[
26
]
dwell] feed MS. (2).
[
27
]
we sate When midway on the mount I stood
MS. (1).
When we too stood upon the Hill
erased MS. (1).
[
29
]
The Moonshine stole upon the ground
erased MS. (1).
The Moon be blended on the ground
MS. (1).
[
30
]
Had] And erased MS. (1).
[
31
]
was there] stood near (was there erased) MS. (1).
[
33-6
]
Against a grey stone rudely carv'd, The statue of an armed Knight, in She lean'd the melancholy mood, And To watch'd the lingering Light
MS. (1).
[
33-4
]
She lean'd against a chissold stone tall The statue of a
MS. (1).
[
34
]
the] an MS. (1) [Stanza 10, revised.]
[
37
]
sad] soft MSS. (1, 2).
doleful] mournful erased MS. (1).
[
39
]
An] And MS. (2).
rude] wild erased MS. (1).
[
41-4
]
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes, In modest melancholy grace The Maiden stood: perchance I gaz'd Too fondly on her face.
Erased MS. (1).
[
45-8
]
om. MS. (1).
[
49
]
I gaz'd and when I sang of love MS. (1).
[
53-6
]
With flitting Blush and downcast eyes and With downcast eyes in modest grace for She listen'd; and perchance I gaz'd Too fondly on her face.
MS. (1).
[
55
]
And] Yet MS. (1).
[
57
]
told] sang MS. (1).
[
59
]
roam'd] cross'd MS. (1).
[
60
]
or] nor MS. (1).
[
61-4
]
om. MS. (1).
[
65
]
How sometimes from the hollow Trees MS. (1).
[
69-72
]
look'd There came and star'd him in the face An[d] Angel beautiful and bright, And how he knew it was a fiend And yell'd with strange affright.
MS. (1).
[
74
]
lawless] murderous MS. (1).
[
77
]
clasp'd] kiss'd MS. (1).
[
79
]
meekly] how she MS. (1).
[
87
]
fault'ring] trembling MS. (1) erased.
[
90
]
guiltless] guileless MS. (1).
Between 96 and 97
And while midnight While Fancy like the nuptial Torch That bends and rises in the wind Lit up with wild and broken lights The Tumult of her mind.
MS. (1) erased.
[
99
]
And like the murmur of a dream
MSS. (1, 2).
And in a murmur faint and sweet
MS. (1) erased.
[
100
]
She half pronounced my name. She breathed her Lover's name.
MS. (1) erased.
[
101-4
]
I saw her gentle Bosom heave Th' inaudible and frequent sigh; modest And ah! the bashful Maiden mark'd The wanderings of my eye[s]
MS. (1) erased.
[
105-8
]
om. MS. (1).
[
105
]
cheek] cheeks MS. (2).
[
108
]
flew] fled MS. (2).
[
109-16
]
side And closely to my heart she press'd And ask'd me with her swimming eyes might That I would rather feel than see Her gentle Bosom rise.—
Or
side And closely to my heart she press'd And closer still with bashful art— That I might rather feel than see The swelling of her Heart.
MS. (1) erased.
[
111
]
And] Then MS. (2) erased.
[
117
]
And now serene, serene and chaste But soon in calm and solemn tone
MS. (1) erased.
[
118
]
And] She MS. (1) erased.
virgin] maiden MSS. (1, 2).
[
120
]
bright] dear MS. (1) erased.
beaut'ous] lovely MS. (1) erased.
[
125-8
]
When last I sang of Him whose heart Was broken by a woman's scorn— And how he cross'd the mountain woods All frantic and forlorn
MS. (1).
[
129
]
sister] moving MS. (1).
[
131
]
wrong] wrongs MS. (1).
[
132
]
Ladie] Ladié MS. (2).
After 132 The Dark Ladiè. MS. (1).