SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE
And that, unknowing what he did, He leap'd amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death The Lady of the Land;
And how she wept and clasp'd his knees; And how she tended him m vain And ever strove to expiate
The scorn that crazed his brain;
And that she nursed him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest leaves
A dying man he lay;
His dying words but when I reach'd That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturb'd her soul with pity'
All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilPd my guileless Gencvieve; The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, Subdued and cherish'd long'
She wept with pity and delight, She blush'd with love and virgin shame; And like the murmur of a dream, I heard her breathe my name.
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