Its path was not upon the sea, It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek 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 harbour-bar, The harbour-bay was clear as glass, And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the Moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, And the bay was white with silent light Full many shapes, that shadows were, 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: They stood as signals to the land, This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice; but oh! the silence sank 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, 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 How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve- It is the moss that wholly hides 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 saidAnd they answered not our cheer! 500 510 520 The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod10 is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young.' 'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look'(The Pilot made reply) 'I am a-feared.'-'Push on, push on!' Said the Hermit cheerily. The boat came closer to the ship, 530 540 513-545. The Hermit of the Wood approacheth the ship with wonder, 10 ivy-bush Under the water it rumbled on, It reached the ship, it split the bay; 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, I took the oars: The Pilot's boy, Laughed loud and long, and all the while 'Ha ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see, And now, all in my own countree, The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, 'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say- Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched Which forced me to begin my tale; I know the man that must hear me: What loud uproar bursts from that door! 550 But in the garden-bower the bride O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been So lonely 'twas, that God himself O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 560 To walk together to the kirk, To walk together to the kirk, While each to his great Father bends, Farewell, farewell! but this I tell He prayeth best, who loveth best The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Is gone; and now the Wedding-Guest 580 He went like one that hath been stunned, Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn. 590 600 610 620 574-581. The ancient Mariner earnestly en CHRISTABEL* PART THE FIRST 'Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And hark, again! the crowing cock, treateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the pen- * Written in 1797, and published in 1816, when ance of life falls on him. 582-625. And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land and to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth. a second part was added, though "three parts yet to come" were never written. The first part circulated in manuscript and had considerable influence, especially in the matter of form, on Scott and other poets. See Eng. Lit., pp. 243, 262. So free from danger, free from fear, Save the boss of the shield of Sir Leoline tall, Which hung in a murky old niche in the wall. O softly tread, said Christabel, My father seldom sleepeth well. Sweet Christabel her feet doth bare, The moon shines dim in the open air, But they without its light can see The silver lamp burns dead and dim; She trimmed the lamp, and made it bright, O weary lady, Geraldine, I pray you, drink this cordial wine! They crossed the court: right glad they were. And will your mother pity me, Outside her kennel, the mastiff old They passed the hall, that echoes still, 150 dying, Who am a maiden most forlorn? But soon with altered voice, said she"Off, wandering mother! Peak and pine! 1 I have power to bid thee flee." Alas! what ails poor Geraldine? Why stares she with unsettled eye? Can she the bodiless dead espy? 160 And why with hollow voice cries she, "Off, woman, off! this hour is mineThough thou her guardian spirit be, Off, woman, off! 'tis given to me." Thresholds were often blessed to keep out evil spirits. The malign character of the supernatural Geraldine is clearly hinted at here and in the lines that follow. 1 Cp. Macbeth I, iii, 23. 170 180 190 200 210 |