"Praise we the Virgin all divine, Who hath rescued thee from thy distress, Alas! Alas! said Geraldine, I cannot speak for weariness. They pass 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, And nothing else saw she thereby Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old nitch in the wall. O! softly tread, said Christabel, My father seldom sleepeth well." Geraldine, who affects to be weary, arrives at the chamber of Christabel--this room is beautifully ornamented, "Carved with figures strange and sweet, All made out of the carver's brain, For a lady's chamber meet The lamp with twofold silver chain Is fasten'd to an angel's feet." Such is the mysterious movement of this supernatural lady, that all this is visible, and when she passed the dying brands, there came a fit of flame, and Christabel saw the lady's eye. The silver lamp burns dead and dim; But Christabel the lamp will trim. She trimm'd the lamp and made it bright, And left it swinging to and fro, While Geraldine, in wretched plight, Sank down upon the floor below. O weary lady Geraldine, I pray you drink this cordial wine, It is a wine of virtuous powers; My mother made it of wild flowers. And will your mother pity me, Who am a maiden most forlorn? Christabel answer'd--Woe is me! She died the hour that I was born, I have heard the grey-hair'd friar tell, How on her death-bed she did say, That she should hear the castle bell Strike twelve upon my wedding-day. O mother dear! that thou wert here! I would, said Geraldine, she were! The poet now introduces the real object of the supernatural transformation: the spirit of evil struggles with the deceased and sainted mother of Christabel for the possession of the lady. To render the scene more impressive, the mother instantly appears, though she is invisible to her daughter. Geraldine exclaims in a commanding voice "Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine! I have power to bid thee flee?" Alas! what ails poor Geraldine? Why stares she with unsettled eye Can she the bodiless dead espy? And why with hollow voice cries she, "Off, woman, off! this hour is mine-- Though thou her guardian spirit be, "Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me." Here, Geraldine seems to be struggling with the spirit of Christabel's mother, over which for a time she obtains the mastery. Then Christabel knelt by the lady's side, And rais'd to heaven her eyes so blue-- Alas! said she, this ghastly ride-- Dear lady! it hath wilder'd you! The lady wiped her moist cold brow, And faintly said, "'Tis over now!"