the Ma riner awakes; and his penance begins anew. 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ; The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck, The pang, the curse, with which they died, I could not draw my eyes from theirs, The curse And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green, is finally expiated. And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what else had been seen Like one, that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread, But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made : Its path was not upon the sea, It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the hill? is this the kirk? We drifted o'er the harbor-bar, The harbor-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness And the bay was white with silent light Full many shapes, that shadows were, A little distance from the prow And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, and appear in their own forms of light. Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood. This seraph-band, each waved his hand, It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the Pilot's cheer; My head was turned perforce away, The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third-I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood. PART VII. THIS Hermit good lives in that wood How loudly his sweet voice he rears! That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve― It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, Why this is strange I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, "Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said- The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were "Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young." "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look- I am a-feared"-" Push on, push on!" The Hermit of the wood. Approacheth the ship with wonder, The ship suddenly sinketh. The ancient Mariner is saved in The boat came closer to the ship, The boat came close beneath the ship, Under the water it rumbled on, It reached the ship, it split the bay ; Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, the Pilot's Like one that hath been seven days boat. drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, I moved my lips-the Pilot shrieked And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row." And now, all in my own countree, |