What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the Ocean doing?"

SECOND VOICE.

"Still as a Slave before his Lord,
The Ocean hath no blast:
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast.—

"If he may know which way to go,
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him."

FIRST VOICE.

"But why drives on that ship so fast Withouten wave or wind?"

SECOND VOICE.

"The air is cut away before,

And closes from behind."

"Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high,

Or we shall be belated;

For slow and slow that ship will go,

When the Marinere's trance 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.

All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fix'd on me their stony eyes
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never pass'd away:

I could not draw my een from theirs
Ne turn them up to pray.

And in its time the spell was snapt,
And I could move my een:

I look'd far-forth, but little saw
Of what might else be seen.

Like one, that on a lonely 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

Doth close behind him

soon there brea'

Ne sound ne

Its path was

In ri

It rais'd my hair, it fann'd 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 sail'd softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
On me alone it blew.

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

Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk?
Is this mine own countrée?
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 moonlight bay was white all o'er,
Till rising from the same,

Full many shapes, that shadows were, Like as of torches came.

A little distance from the prow,

Those dark red shadows were;
But soon I saw that my own flesh
Was red as in a glare.

I turn'd my head in fear and dread,
And by the holy rood,

The bodies had advanc'd, and now
Before the mast they stood.

They lifted up their stiff right arms,
They held them strait and tight;
And each right arm burnt like a torch,
A torch that's borne upright.

Their stony eye-balls glitter'd on

In the

and smoky light.

rn'd my head away,

gas before;

reeze upon the bay,

inst the shore.

bright, the kirk no less, above the rock;

it steep'd in silentness

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 turn'd my eyes upon the deck-
O 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 wav'd his hand,
It was a heavenly sight:

They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light:

This seraph-band, each wav'd his hand,
No voice did they impart-

No voice; but O! the silence sank,
Like music on my heart.

Eftsones I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the pilot's cheer:
My head was turn'd perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.

Then vanish'd all the lovely lights;
The bodies rose anew:

With silent pace, each to his place
Came back the ghastly crew.

The wind, that shade nor motion made,
On me alone it blew.

'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 Contrée.

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 ne'rd: 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 answer'd not our cheer.
The planks look warp'd, and see those sails
How thin they are and sere!

I never saw aught like to them
Unless perchance it were

'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
That eats the she-wolf's young.'

'Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look'-...
(The Pilot made reply)

'I am afear'd'-'Push on, push on !'
Said the Hermit cheerily.

The Boat came closer to the Ship,
But I ne spake ne stirr'd!

The Boat came close beneath the Ship,
And strait a sound was heard!

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread :
It reach'd the Ship, it split the bay;
The Ship went down like lead.

Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote :

Like one that hath been seven days drown'd
My body lay afloat:

But swift as dreams, myself I found

Within the Pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl where sank the Ship,
The boat spun round and round :
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I mov'd my lips: the Pilot shriek'd
And fell down in a fit,

The Holy Hermit rais'd his eyes
And pray'd where he did sit.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,

Laugh'd loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.

'Ha ha!' quoth he-'full plain I see,
The devil knows how to row.'

And now all in mine own Countrée
I stood on the firm land!

The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy Man !'
The Hermit cross'd his brow-
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say
What manner man art thou?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd
With a woeful agony,
Which forc'd me to begin my tale

And then it left me free.

Since then at an uncertain hour,
Now oftimes and now fewer,

That anguish comes and makes me teli
My ghastly aventure.

I

pass, like night, from land to land;

I have strange power of speech;

The moment that his face I see

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

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 Wedding-guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

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 all together pray,