XXII. Her faltering hand upon the balustrade, Old Angela was feeling for the stair, When Madeline, St. Agnes' charmed maid, Rose, like a mission'd spirit unaware: With silver taper's light, and pious care, She turn'd, and down the aged gossip led To a safe level matting. Now prepare, Young Porphyro, for gazing on that bed; She comes, she comes again, like ring-dove fray'd and fled. Out went the taper as she hurried in; As though a tongueless nightingale should swell XXIV. A casement high and triple-arch'd there was, Of fruits, and flowers, and bunches of knot-grass, Innumerable of stains and splendid dyes, A shielded scutcheon blush'd with blood of queens and kings. B 2 XXV. Full on this casement shone the wintry moon, And threw warm gules on Madeline's fair breast; As down she knelt for heaven's grace and boon Rose-bloom fell on her hands, together prest, And on her silver cross soft amethyst, And on her hair a glory, like a saint: She seem'd a splendid angel, newly drest, Save wings, for heaven :-Porphyro grew faint: She knelt, so pure a thing, so free from mortal taint. XXVI. Anon his heart revives: her vespers done, But dares not look behind, or all the charm is fled. XXVII. Soon, trembling in her soft and chilly nest, |