The eve of StAgnes . rn and never missd? Thus plaining doth she bringA gentler speech from burning Porphyro;So woful, and of such deep Angela gives promise she will doWhatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe: XIX. Which was, to lead him, in close to Madelines chamber, and there hideHim in a closet of such privacyThat he might see her beauty win perhaps that night a peerless bride,While legiond fairies paced the pale enchantment held her on such a night have lovers met,Since Merlin paid his Demon all the
The eve of StAgnes . rn and never missd? Thus plaining doth she bringA gentler speech from burning Porphyro;So woful, and of such deep Angela gives promise she will doWhatever he shall wish, betide her weal or woe: XIX. Which was, to lead him, in close to Madelines chamber, and there hideHim in a closet of such privacyThat he might see her beauty win perhaps that night a peerless bride,While legiond fairies paced the pale enchantment held her on such a night have lovers met,Since Merlin paid his Demon all the monstrous debt XX. It shall be as thou wishest, said the Dame; All cates and dainties shall be stored thereQuickly on this feast-night; by the tambour frameHer own lute thou wilt see. No time to spare,For I am slow and feeble, and scarce dareOn such a catering trust my dizzy here, my child; with patience kneel in prayerThe while. Ah! thou must needs the lady wed,Or may I never leave my grave among the XX!.So saying, she hobbled oft with busy lovers endless minutes slowly dame returnd, and whisperd in his earTo follow her, — with aged eyes aghastFrom fright of dim espial. Safe at last,Through many a dusky gallery, they gainThe Maidens chamber, silken, hushd, and chaste;Where Porphyro took covert, pleased poor guide hurried back with agues in her brain. faltering hand upon the balustrade,Old Angela was feeling for the stair,When Madeline — St. Agnes charmed maidRose, like a missiond spirit silver tapers light, and pious care,She turnd, and down the aged gossip ledTo a safe level matting. Now prepare,Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed!She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove frayd and fled! went the taper as she hurried in;Its little smoke in pallid moonshine closed the door, she panted, all akinTo spirits of the air, and visions wide:No utterd syllable, or woe betide!But to her heart
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Keywords: ., bookcentury1800, bookdecade1880, bookpublisherbosto, bookyear1885
