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 skiff-boat near'd: I heard them talk, Where are those lights so many and fair, ""Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said— "And they answer'd not our cheer! The planks look warp'd! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were 6.66 My Brown skeletons of leaves that lag When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And That 666 Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look”. (The Pilot made reply) am "I a-fear'd""Push on, push on! " Said the Hermit cheerily. 'The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, 'Under the water it rumbled on, 'Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned But swift as dreams, myself I found 'Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, The boat spun round and round; 'I moved my lips-the Pilot shriek'd The holy Hermit raised his eyes, 'I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Laugh'd loud and long, and all the while "Ha ha!" quoth he, " full plain I see 'And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat. ""O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit crossed his brow. "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou?" 'Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale ; And then it left me free. 'Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns ; And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. 'I pass, like night, from land to land; I know the man that must hear me : 'What loud uproar bursts from that door! 'O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been Alone on a wide, wide sea: So lonely 'twas, that God himself 'O sweeter than the marriage-feast, To walk together to the kirk 'To walk together to the kirk, And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay! Farewell, farewell! but this I tell 'He prayeth best, who lovest best The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Is gone and now the Wedding-Guest He went like one that hath been stunned, A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn. COLERIDGE. The Haunted Palace I IN the greenest of our valleys, Never seraph spread a pinion II Banners-yellow, glorious, golden— And every gentle air that dallied, In that sweet day, Along the ramparts plumed and pallid, III Wanderers in that happy valley, To a lute's well-tunèd law, In state his glory well befitting, The ruler of the realm was seen. IV And all with pearl and ruby glowing Was the fair palace-door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore, M A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty In voices of surpassing beauty, The wit and wisdom of their king. V But evil things, in robes of sorrow, Assailed the monarch's high estate. VI And travellers now within that valley, While, like a ghastly rapid river, A hideous throng rush out for ever The Bard PINDARIC ODE 'RUIN seize thee, ruthless King! Helm, nor Hauberk's twisted mail, Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail To save thy secret soul from nightly fears, POE. From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears!' -Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side To arms!' cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering lance. |