Page:Christabel, Kubla Khan, The Pains of Sleep - Coleridge (1816).djvu/50

 And he will meet thee on the way With all his numerous array White with their panting palfreys' foam, And, by mine honour! I will say, That I repent me of the day When I spake words of fierce disdain To Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine!— —For since that evil hour hath flown, Many a summer's sun have shone; Yet ne'er found I a friend again Like Roland de Vaux of Tryermaine."

The lady fell, and clasped his knees, Her face uprais'd, her eyes o'erflowing; And Bracy replied, with faltering voice, His gracious hail on all bestowing:— Thy words, thou sire of Christabel, Are sweeter than my harp can tell;