It is the moss that wholly hides The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 66 Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now ?" "Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit Approacheth said "And they answered not our cheer! The planks look warped! and see those 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: [sails, When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look❞— (The Pilot made reply) "I am a-feared"-" Push on, push on!" Said the Hermit cheerily. The boat came closer to the ship, Under the water it rumbled on, the ship with wonder. The ship suddenly sinketh. The ancient saved in the It reached the ship, it split the bay; Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Like one that hath been seven days 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 The holy Hermit raised his eyes, I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Laughed loud and long, and all the while "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, "O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit crossed his brow. 66 Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say What manner of man art thou?" The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the pe Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched nance of life With a woeful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; Since then, at an uncertain hour, And till my ghastly tale is told, I pass, like night, from land to land; What loud uproar bursts from that door! The wedding-guests are there; But in the garden-bower the bride O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been So lonely 'twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be. falls on him. And ever and anon throughout his future life and agony constraineth him to travel from land to land, And to teach O sweeter than the marriage-feast, To walk together to the kirk To walk together to the kirk, While each to his great Father bends, Farewell, farewell! but this I tell He prayeth best, who loveth 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. |