The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.

PART V.

"Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole!

To Mary Queen the praise be given!

She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, That slid into my soul.

The sillys buckets on the deck,

That had so long remained,

I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I awoke, it rained.

My lips were wet, my throat was coid,
My garments all were dank;

Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.

I moved, and could not feel my limbs:

I was so light-almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed ghost.

And soon I heard a roaring wind:

It did not come anear:

But with its sound it shook the sails, That were so thin and sere.

The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,

To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge;

300

310

And the rain poured down from one black cloud;

The Moon was at its edge.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:

Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

320

292-308. By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.

309-326. He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element. 327-376. The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired. and the ship moves on but not by the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint. 8 Perhaps "useless"; but the origipal meaning "blessed" will fit very well.

Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;

It had been strange, even in a dream,

To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up blew :

The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do;

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-
We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son

Stood by me, knee to knee:

The body and I pulled at one rope
But he said nought to me."—

"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"—
"Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!

'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, Which to their corses came again,

But a troop of spirits blest:

330

340

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;

And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,

A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

360

370

Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring-
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?

Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray-
'O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.'

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
The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light
Till rising from the same,

Full many shapes, that shadows were,

In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:

I turned my eyes upon the deck-
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

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 hand:
It was a heavenly sight!

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.

460

470

480

490

464-479. The ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.

480-499. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies and appear in their own forms of light.

9 cross

But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer:
My head was turned perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.

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
That he makes in the wood.

He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.

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 skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 'Why, this is strange, I trow!

Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?'

'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said— 'And they answered not our cheer!

500

510

520