But in a minute she 'gan stir, Then like a pawing horse let go, How long in that same fit I lay, But ere my living life returned, The Polar Spirit's fellowdemons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient mariner hath been accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward. PART VI. First Voice. But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing 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; I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather: 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; All stood together on the deck, The pang, the curse, with which they died, I could not draw my eyes from theirs, Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green, And looked far north, yet little saw Of what had else been seen- Like one, that on a lonesome road The supernatural motion is retarded; the mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew. The curse is finally expiated; And having once turned round walks on, Because he knows a frightful fiend But soon there breathed a wind on me, Its path was not upon the sea, It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring- Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the hill? is this the kirk? O let me be awake, my God! 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, The moonlight steeped in silentness And the bay was white with silent light, Full many shapes, that shadows were, And the ancient mariner beholdeth his native country. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, Those crimson shadows were: 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! 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, The pilot and the pilot's boy, Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy 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. And appear in their own forms of light. PART VII. The hermit of the wood This hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. 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, 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, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lay My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look (The pilot made reply) Said the hermit cheerily. The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard. 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 Approacheth the ship with wonder. The ship suddenly sinketh. The ancient mariner is saved in the pilot's boat. |