66 The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 440 Nor turn them up to pray. "And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green, "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, 480 "This seraph-band, each waved his hand, It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; 495 "This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart. "He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve— He hath a cushion plump: 520 It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump. "The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! 530 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, 535 Push on, push on!' 540 Laughed loud and long, and all the while 6 Ha ha!' quoth he, full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.' "And now, all in my own countree, 570 I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, "O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' |