PART VI. FIRST VOICE. "But tell me, tell me! speak again, What makes that ship drive on so fast? SECOND VOICE. 'Still as a slave before his lord, If he may know which way to go, FIRST VOICE. 'But why drives on that ship so fast Without or wave or wind?' 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, When the Mariner's trace is abated.' I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather: "Twas night, calm night, the moon was high. The dead men stood together. c 2 All stood together on the deck, The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away; I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapp'd: once more I viewed the ocean green, And look'd far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen Like one, that on a lonesome road And having once turn'd round, walks on But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made: Its path was not upon the sea It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek, It mingled strangely with my fears, Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, O dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? Is this the hill? Is this the kirk? We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, The harbour-bay was clear as glass, The rock shone bright, the kirk no less The moonlight steeped in silentness And the bay was white with silent light, A little distance from the prow I turned my eyes upon the deck- Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; A man all light, a seraph-man. On every corse there stood. This seraph-band, each waved his hand; It was a heavenly sight: -༤ They stood as signals to the land, This seraph-band, each waved his hand; No voice; but O! the silence sank But soon I heard the dash of oars, The pilot, and the pilot's boy, 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 That come from a far countrée. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eye- It is the moss that wholly hides The skiff-boat near'd; I heard them talk, 'Strange, by my faith!' the hermit said— I never saw aught like to them The 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 has a fiendish look- I am a-feared.'—'Push on, push on !' The boat came closer to the ship, Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound. Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat: |