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 moved my lips-the Pilot shriek'd
And fell down in a fit;

The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And pray'd where he did sit.

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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."

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And now,

all in my own countree,

I stood on the firm land!

The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat,

And scarcely he could stand.

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"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"

The hermit cross'd his brow.

"Say quick," quoth he, “I bid thee say—

What manner of man art thou ?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd 65 With a woful agony,

Which forced me to begin my tale;

And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,

That agony returns:

And till my ghastly tale is told,

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This heart within me burns.

I

pass, like night, from land to land;

I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,

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O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
"T is sweeter far to me,

To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!—

To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,

While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;

For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turn'd from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunn'd,

And is of sense forlorn :

A sadder and a wiser man,

He rose the morrow morn.

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COLERIDGE.

ASTROLOGY.

(Translation from Schiller's Wallenstein.)

Countess. The Astrological tower!-How happens it That this same sanctuary, whose access

Is to all others so impracticable,

Opens before you ev'n at your approach ?

Thekla. A dwarfish old man with a friendly face 5 And snow-white hairs, whose gracious services Were mine at first sight, open'd me the doors. Max. That is the Duke's astrologer, old Seni. Thekla. He question'd me on many points; for instance,

When I was born, what month, and on what day, 10
Whether by day or in the night.

Countess.
He wish'd
To erect a figure for your horoscope.

Thekla. My hand too he examined, shook his head With much sad meaning, anu the lines, methought, 15 Did not square over truly with his wishes. [tower? Countess. Well, Princess, and what found you in this

My highest privilege has been to snatch
A side-glance, and away!

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Thekla.
It was a strange
Sensation that came o'er me, when at first
From the broad sunshine I stepp'd in; and now
The narrowing line of day-light, that ran after
The closing door, was gone; and all about me
'T was pale and dusky night, with many shadows 25
Fantastically cast. Here six or seven

Colossal statues, and all kings, stood round me
In a half-circle. Each one in his hand

A sceptre bore, and on his head a star;

And in the tower no other light was there

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But from these stars: all seem'd to come from them.
"These are the planets," said that low old man;
"They govern worldly fates, and for that cause
Are imaged here as kings. He farthest from you,
Spiteful, and cold, an old man melancholy,
With bent and yellow forehead, he is Saturn.
He opposite, the king with the red light,
An arm'd man for the battle, that is Mars:
And both these bring but little luck to man."
But at his side a lovely lady stood,
The star upon her head was soft and bright,
And that was Venus, the bright star of joy;
On the left hand, lo! Mercury, with wings.
Quite in the middle glitter'd silver bright
A cheerful man and with a monarch's mien;
And this was Jupiter, my father's star:
And at his side I saw the Sun and Moon.

Max. O never rudely will I blame his faith

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In the might of stars and angels! 'Tis not merely
The human being's pride that peoples space
With life and mystical predominance;

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Since likewise for the stricken heart of Love
This visible nature, and this common world,
Is all too narrow: yea, a deeper import
Lurks in the legend told my infant years
Than lies upon that truth, we live to learn.

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For fable is Love's world, his home, his birth-place;

Delightedly dwells he 'mong fays and talismans,
And spirits; and delightedly believes

Divinities, being himself divine.

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The intelligible forms of ancient poets,

The fair humanities of old religion,

The power, the beauty, and the majesty,

That had their haunts in dale, or piny mountain,
Or forest by slow stream, or pebbly spring,

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Or chasms and watery depths; all these have vanish'd:
They live no longer in the faith of reason!
But still the heart doth need a language, still

Doth the old instinct bring back the old names,
And to yon starry world they now are gone,
Spirits or gods, that used to share this earth
With man as with their friend; and to the lover
Yonder they move, from yonder visible sky
Shoot influence down: and even at this day
'Tis Jupiter who brings whate'er is great,
And Venus who brings everything that 's fair!
Thekla. And if this be the science of the stars,

I too, with glad and zealous industry,
Will learn acquaintance with this cheerful faith.
It is a gentle and affectionate thought,
That in immeasurable heights above us,

At our first birth, the wreath of love was woven,
With sparkling stars for flowers.

COLERIDGE.

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