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And all was still, save that the hill
“I moved my lips -- the Pilot shrieked,
eyes, And prayed where he did sit.
“ I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
66 And now,
all in my own countree,
666 shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'
The Hermit crossed his brow:
“ Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
“Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns :
And till my ghastly tale is told,
“I pass, like night, from land to land ;
I have strange power of speech;
“What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding guests are there;
“O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Oh, sweeter than the marriage-feast,
* To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
“ Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
“He prayeth best, who loveth best
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
He went like one that hath been stunned,
Samuel Taylor Coleridge.
THE LASS OF LOCHROYAN
“Oh, who will shoe my bonny foot,
And who will glove my hand ? And who will lace my middle jimp
Wi' a long, long, linen band ?
6 Or who will kaim my yellow hair
Wi' a new-made silver kaim? Oh, who will father my young son
Till Lord Gregory comes hame ?
“Oh, if I had a bonny ship,
And men to sail wi' me, It's I would
my true Lovo, Since he winna come to me!”
Then she's gar'd build a bonny boat,
To sail the salt, salt sea :
And the ropes of taffetie.
She had not been on the sea sailing
About a month or more,
Near to her true Love's door.
She's ta’en her young son in her arms,
And to the door she's gane ; And long she knocked, and sair she called,
But answer got she nane.
“Oh, open the door, Lord Gregory !
Oh, open, and let me in! For the wind blows through my yellow hair,
And the rain drops o'er my chin."
Long stood she at Lord Gregory's door,
And long she tirled the pin ;
Says, “Who's that, would be in ?"
Oh, it's Annie of Lochroyan,
Your Love, come o’er the sea,
But and your young son in her arms ;
So open the door to me."
“ Away, away, ye
ill woman! You 're not come here for gude ; You 're but a witch, or a vile warlock,
Or a mermaid o' the flood.”
6 I'm no a witch, nor vile warlock,
Nor mermaiden,” said she ; “ But I am Annie of Lochroyan,
the door to me!”
“ If thou be Annie of Lochroyan,
(As I trow ye binna she), Now tell me some of the love-tokens
That passed 'tween me and thee."
“Oh, dinna ye mind, Lord Gregory,
As we sat at the wine, How we changed the rings from our fingers,
And I can show thee thine ?
“Oh, yours was good, and good enough,
But not so good as mine;
But mine of the diamond fine.
“So open the door, Lord Gregory,
And open it with speed ;
For cold will soon be dead.”