Second Voice. The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! For slow and slow that ship will go, I woke, and we were sailing on 'Twas night, calm night, the Moon was The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: All fixed on me their stony eyes, [high; The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew. That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never pass'd away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapt: once more The curse is 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 turn'd round, walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend Doth close behind him tread. 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. finally expiated. And the an cient Mariner It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed beholdeth his The light-house top I see? native country. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, And appear in their own forms of light. Is this the hill? is this the kirk? We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, 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 And the bay was white with silent light, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. A little distance from the prow Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, A man all light, a seraph-man, This seraph-band, each waved his hand: 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 heard them coming fast: Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third-I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! 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! 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 sud denly sinketh. The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat. 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 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, That eats the she-wolf's young.' 'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look' (The Pilot made reply) '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 stirr'd; The boat came close beneath the ship, Under the water it rumbled on, It reach'd the ship, it split the bay; Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, Like one that hath been seven days drown'd But swift as dreams, myself I found 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 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!' 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say- Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd 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; 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 : Which biddeth me to prayer! The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the pe nance of life falls on him. And ever and anon throughout his future life and agony constraineth him to travel from land to land; |