PART VI First Voice "But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing What makes that ship drive on so fast? Second Voice ""Still as a slave before his lord, His great bright eye most silently "If he may know which way to go; 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 pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away : I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 'And now this spell was snapt : once more I view'd the ocean green, And look'd 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 turned round walks on, Because he knows, a frightful fiend 'But soon there breathed a wind on me Nor sound nor motion made : Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade. 'It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek 'Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, '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? '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 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, 'A little distance from the prow '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, Each one a lovely light; '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 turn'd perforce away, 'The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy, 'I saw a third-I heard his voice : He singeth loud his godly hymns He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away 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! 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, ""Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look"- "I am 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, And straight a sound was heard. '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 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; '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. |