The curse is finally expiated. 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 Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; 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, Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze— Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the hill? is this the kirk? 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, And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness And the bay was white with silent light Full many shapes, that shadows were, A little distance from the prow And the an cient Mari ne beholdeth his native country. The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, And appear in their own forms oflight. Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, 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, 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 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, 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 lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, The Hermit of the wood, Approacheth the ship with wonder. The ship suddenly sinketh. The ancient "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look-- I am a-feared"-" Push on, push on!" The boat came closer to the ship, The boat came close beneath the ship, 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, |