Where they were wont to do;

They raised their limbs like lifeless toolsWe were a ghastly crew."

66

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.

"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?

"Since then, at an uncertain hour,
My agony returns :

And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

"I

pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,

I know the man that must hear me :
To him my tale I teach.

66

'What loud uproar bursts from that door. The wedding-guests are there :

But in the garden-bower the bride

And bride-maids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!

"O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,

To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!

"To walk together to the kirk,

And altogether pray,

While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay!

"Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

"He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

S. T. Coleridge

XXXIX

SONG OF ARIEL

Come unto these yellow sands,
And then take hands,-

Curtsied when you have and kiss'd;
(The wild waves whist)—

Foot it featly here and there;

And, sweet sprites, the burden bear.

Hark, hark!

Bough wough,

The watch dogs bark,

Bough wough,

Hark, hark! I hear

The strain of strutting chanticleer,

Cry, cock-a-doodle-doo.

W. Shakespeare

XL

HOW'S MY BOY?

Ho, sailor of the sea!
How's my boy-my boy?

'What's your boy's name, good wife,
And in what good ship sail'd he?'

My boy John

He that went to sea

What care I for the ship, sailor?

My boy's my boy to me.

You come back from sea

And not know my John?

I might as well have asked some landsman

Yonder down in the town.

There's not an ass in all the parish

But he knows my John.

How's my boy-my boy?
And unless you let me know

I'll swear you are no sailor,
Blue jacket or no,

Brass button or no, sailor,

Anchor and crown or no!

Sure his ship was the Jolly Briton'Speak low, woman, speak low!'

And why should I speak low, sailor,
About my own boy John?

If I was loud as I am proud
I'd sing him over the town!
Why should I speak low, sailor?
'That good ship went down.'

How's my boy-my boy?

What care I for the ship, sailor,
I never was aboard her.

Be she afloat, or be she aground,
Sinking or swimming, I'll be bound,
Her owners can afford her!

XLI

THE SPANISH ARMADA

Attend all ye who list to hear our noble England's praise,

I tell of the thrice famous deeds she wrought in ancient days,

When that great fleet invincible against her bore in

vain

The richest spoils of Mexico, the stoutest hearts of

Spain.

It was about the lovely close of a warm summer

day,

There came a gallant merchant-ship full sail to Plymouth Bay;

Her crew hath seen Castile's black fleet beyond Aurigny's isle,

At earliest twilight, on the waves lie heaving many a mile;

At sunrise she escaped their van, by God's especial

grace;

And the tall Pinta, till the noon, had held her close in chase.

Forthwith a guard at every gun was placed along the wall;

The beacon blazed upon the roof of Edgcumbe's lofty hall;

Many a light fishing-bark put out to pry along the

coast;

And with loose rein and bloody spur rode inland many a post.