Fly, brother, fly! more high, more hgh! For slow and slow that ship will go, The supernatural I woke, and we were sailing on motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew. 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was g; The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck For a charnel-dungeon fitter All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, I could not draw my eyes from theirs, And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green, And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen Like one, that on a lonesome road And having once turned round walks on, 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. It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek It mingled strangely with my fears, Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the hill? is this the kirk? We drifted o'er the harbor-bar, The curse is fi nally expiated. And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, And appoar in their own forms of light. O let me be awake, my God! The harbor-bay was clear as glass, The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock. And the bay was white with silent light Full many shapes, that shadows were, A little distance from the prow 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, 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 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: 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 countree. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve—, 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! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, I never saw aught like to them, The Hermit of the wood, Approacheth the ship with wonder. 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, That eats the she-wolf's young." The ship suddenly sinketh. The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat. Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Like one that hath been seven days drowned But swift as dreams, myself I found Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, I moved my lips-the Pilot shrieked The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed 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! |