The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, And appear in their own forms of light. "We drifted o'er the harbour-bar. O let me be awake, my God. "The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn ! And on the bay the moonlight lay, 66 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 I turned my eyes upon the deck- "Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood. "This seraph-band, each waved his hana It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; "This seraph-band, each waved his land; No voice did they impart— No voice; but O! 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 turned perforce away, "The pilot and the pilot's boy, Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy "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 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 eve― He hath a cushion plump; It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The Hermit of the wood Approacheth the ship with wonder. The ship suddenly sinketh. "The skiff-boat neared-I heard them talk: Why, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights, so many and fair, 'Strange, by my faith!' the hermit said— And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them, "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, "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, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, "Under the water it rumbled on, It reached the ship, it split the bay- "Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, The Ancient Which sky and ocean smote, Mariner is saved in the Like one that hath been seven days drowned pilot's boat. My body lay afloat; But, swift as dreams, myself I found Within the pilot's boat. "Upon the whirl where sank the ship "I moved my lips—the pilot shrieked 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, Laughed 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. O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'- The Ancient The hermit crossed his brow: 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou?' Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him. And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land. "Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched Which forced me to begin my tale— "Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns; And till my ghastly tale is told 66 I pass, like night, from land to land; I know the man that must hear me- "What loud uproar bursts from that door! The wedding-guests are there; But in the garden-bower the bride And bride-maids singing are; "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! |