'This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears !
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.


'He kneels at morn, and noon, and eveHe hath a cushion plump : It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. ‘The skiff-boat neard : I heard them talk, “Why, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ?” O“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 ! 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”.
(The Pilot made reply)

am a-feard” - 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,
And straight a sound was heard.
Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread :
It reach'd the ship, it split the bay :
The ship went down like lead.

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Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
'I moved my lips—the Pilot shriek’d
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,
Laugh'd 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,
I stood on the firm land !
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

66 O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man !” The Hermit crossed his brow.

Say quick," quoth he, “I bid thee sayWhat manner of man art thou ?"


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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.


pass, like night, from land to land ; I have strange power of speech ; The moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me : To him my tale I teach. What loud uproar bursts from that door ! The wedding-guests are there : But in the garden-bower the bride And bride-maids singing are : And hark the little vesper bell, Which biddeth me to prayer ! 'O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been Alone on a wide, wide sea : So lonely 'twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company !-
"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
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest !
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

"He prayeth best, who lovest best
All things both great and small ;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn :
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.


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IN the greenest of our valleys,

By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace,

Radiant palace, reared its head.
In the monarch Thoughts dominion,

It stood there;
Never seraph spread a pinion

Over fabric half so fair !


Banners-yellow, glorious, golden

On its roof did Hoat and flow (This, all this, was in the olden

Time, long ago);
And every gentle air that dallied,

In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,

A winged odour went away.



Wanderers in that happy valley,

Through two luminous windows saw
Spirits moving musically,

To a lute's well-tunèd law,
Round about a throne where, sitting

(Porphyrogene !)
In state his glory well befitting,

The ruler of the realm was seen.


And all with pearl and ruby glowing

Was the fair palace-door, Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing, And sparkling evermore,


A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty

Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.

But evil things, in robes of sorrow,

Assailed the monarch's high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn !—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon

him desolate ;)
And round about his home the glory

That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story

Of the old time entombed.


And travellers now within that valley,

Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically

a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,

Through the pale door,
A hideous throng rush out for ever
And laugh—but smile no more.



The Bard

‘RUIN seize thee, ruthless King!

Confusion on thy banners wait,
Tho' fann’d by Conquest's crimson wing

They mock the air with idle state.
Helm, nor Hauberk's twisted mail,
Nor e'en thy virtues, Tyrant, shall avail
To save thy secret soul from nightly fears,
From Cambria's curse, from Cambria's tears !'
-Such were the sounds, that o'er the crested pride

Of the first Edward scattered wild dismay,
As down the steep of Snowdon's shaggy side

He wound with toilsome march his long array. Stout Glo'ster stood aghast in speechless trance : "To arms !' cried Mortimer, and couch'd his quivering


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