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They passed the hall, that echoes still,
Pass as lightly as you will!
The brands were flat, the brands were
dying,

Amid their own white ashes lying;
But when the lady passed, there came
A tongue of light, a fit of flame;
And Christabel saw the lady's eye, 160
And nothing else saw she thereby,
Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline
tall,

Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall.

"O softly tread," said Christabel,
"My father seldom sleepeth well."

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