1 June 2026
(27 March 2015) We return with the final stanza of the first part of Coleridge’s unfinished poem, “Christabel.” We remind our readers of last week’s strange scene, as Christabel watches Geraldine undress. . . .
Yet Geraldine nor speaks nor stirs;
Ah! what a stricken look was hers!
Deep from within she seems half-way
To lift some weight with sick assay,
And eyes the maid and seeks delay;
Then suddenly, as one defied,
Collects herself in scorn and pride,
And lay down by the Maiden’s side!—
And in her arms the maid she took,
Ah wel-a-day!
And with low voice and doleful look
These words did say:
‘In the touch of this bosom there worketh a spell,
Which is lord of thy utterance, Christabel!
Thou knowest to-night, and wilt know to-morrow,
This mark of my shame, this seal of my sorrow;
But vainly thou warrest,
For this is alone in
Thy power to declare,
That in the dim forest
Thou heard’st a low moaning,
And found’st a bright lady, surpassingly fair;
And didst bring her home with thee in love and in charity,
To shield her and shelter her from the damp air.’
We notice that Geraldine hesitates, as if indecisive or regretting what she is about to do, before joining Christabel in bed and trapping her within her arms; she then casts a spell upon her, which confirms our earlier suspicion that she is a witch, but this incantation elicits further questions that cannot be answered: what is Geraldine’s shame and sorrow that Christabel will know tonight and tomorrow? There are several possibilities, all of them unpleasant, and these possibilities could at least contribute to Coleridge’s abandoning this poem. We will begin to learn more of this strange moment on Wednesday as we begin to look at the conclusion to part 1 of this unfinished poem. Good reading!
Clyde B. Northrup 
Leave a comment