Shoot with a sense of madness and pain.
Ah, Christabel return, return,
Let me not call on thee in vain!
Think, lady dear, if thou art drowned
That thy body will be found,
What anguish will thy spirit feel,
When it must to all reveal
What the spell binds thee to conceal!
How the baron’s heart will knock ’gainst his chest
When the stake is driven into thy breast,