[Sidenote: The curse is finally expiated,]

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 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.

[Sidenote: And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.]

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

Is this the hill? is this the kirk?

Is this mine own countree?

We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray-- "O let me be awake, my G.o.d!

Or let me sleep alway."

The harbour-bay was clear as gla.s.s, So smoothly it was strewn!

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 The steady weatherc.o.c.k.

[Sidenote: The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,]

And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came.

[Sidenote: And appear in their own forms of light.]

A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: I turned my eyes upon the deck-- Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood!

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, 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.

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 G.o.dly hymns That he makes in the wood.

He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood.

PART VII

[Sidenote: The Hermit of the Wood]

'This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea.

How loudly his sweet voice he rears!

He loves to talk of marineres That come from a far countree.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve-- 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, That signal made but now?"

[Sidenote: Approacheth the ship with wonder.]

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

The planks look 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-tod 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, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard.

[Sidenote: The ship suddenly sinketh.]

Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: It reached the ship, it split the bay; The ship went down like lead.

[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat.]

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned, My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat.

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 shrieked And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed 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."

And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land!

The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand.

[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.]

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

The Hermit crossed his brow.

"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say-- What manner of man art thou?"