Imagens das páginas
PDF
ePub

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

PART THE SIXTH.

FIRST VOICE.

BUT tell me, tell me! speak again,

Thy soft response renewing—

What makes that ship drive on so fast?

What is the OCEAN doing?

SECOND VOICE.

Still as a slave before his lord,

The OCEAN hath no blast;

His great bright eye most silently

Up to the Moon is cast

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.

FIRST VOICE.

But why drives on that ship so fast,

Without or wave or wind?

SECOND VOICE.

The air is cut away before,

And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!

Or we shall be belated:

For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner's trance is abated."

I woke, and we were sailing on

As in a gentle weather:

'Twas night, calm night, the Moon was

high;

The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.

The Mariner hath been

cast into a trance; for the angelic power

causeth the vessel to drive

northward,

faster than human life

could endure.

The super

· natural mo

tion is retarded; the Ma.. riner awakes, and his penance begins

anew.

The curse is finally expiated.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:

I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapt: once more

I viewed the ocean green,

And looked far forth, yet little saw

Of what had else been seen

Like one, that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turn'd 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

In ripple or in shade.

the sea,

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek

Like a meadow-gale of spring

It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming,

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too :

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?

Is this the hill? is this the kirk?

Is this mine own countree?

And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray-

O let me be awake, my God!

Or let me sleep alway.

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,

So smoothly it was strewn!

And on the bay the moonlight lay,

And the shadow of the moon.

The angelic

spirits leave the dead bodies,

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,

That stands above the rock :

The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,

Full many shapes, that shadows were,

In crimson colours came.

And appear in their own forms of light.

A little distance from the prow

Those crimson shadows were :

I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,

And, by the holy rood!

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,

Each one a lovely light:

« AnteriorContinuar »