The Polar Spirit's How long in that same fit I lay,

fellow-demons, the

invisible inhabi- I have not to declare;

tants of the ele

ment, 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.

But ere my living life returned,

I heard, and in my soul discerned,
Two voices in the air.

"Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man? By Him who died on cross,

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With his cruel bow he laid full low

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The harmless Albatross.

"The spirit who bideth by himself

In the land of mist and snow,

He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow."

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The other was a softer voice,

As soft as honey-dew:

Quoth he, "The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do."

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;

His great bright eye most silently
Up to the moon is cast

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Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:

For slow and slow that ship will go,

When the Mariner's trance is abated.

The supernatural I woke, and we were sailing on

motion is retarded; the Mariner

awakes, and his penance begins

anew.

As in a gentle weather:

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'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 fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:

I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.

The curse is finally And now this spell was snapt: once more

expiated.

I viewed the ocean green,

And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen ·

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And the ancient

Mariner beholdeth

his native country.

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
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 sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze
On me alone it blew.

Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The lighthouse top I see?

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leave the dead

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:

The moonlight steeped in silentness

The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light, 480
Till rising from the same,

The angelic spirits Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

bodies,

and appear in their A little distance from the prow

own forms of light.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand:

It was a heavenly sight!

They stood as signals to the land,

Each one a lovely light;

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,
And I saw a boat appear.

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wood

The Hermit of the 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 countree.

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He kneels at morn, and noon,

and eve

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He hath a cushion plump:

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, 525
That signal made but now?”

"Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said
"And they answered not our cheer!

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

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