VII. 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 Contrée. 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 ne'rd: I heard them talk, Why, this is strange, I trow! "Where are those lights so many and fair "That signal made but now? Strange, by my faith! the Hermit said— "And they answer'd not our cheer. "The planks look warp'd, and see those sails. "How thin they are and sere! "I never saw aught like to them "Unless- perchance it were "The 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 has a fiendish look— (The Pilot made reply) "I am a-fear'd.—" Push on, push on! "Said the Hermit cheerily. The Boat came closer to the Ship, The Boat came close beneath the Ship, Under the water it rumbled on, It reach'd the Ship, it split the bay; Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote : Like one that hath been seven days drown'd My body lay afloat: But, swift as dreams, myself I found Upon the whirl, where sank the Ship, I mov'd my lips: the Pilot shriek'd The Holy Hermit rais'd his eyes I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, 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." And now all in mine own Countrée I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat, " O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy Man ! The Hermit cross'd his brow— "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say "What manner man art thou? Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd With a woeful agony, Which forc'd me to begin my tale And then it left me free. Since then at an uncertain hour, Now oftimes and now fewer, That anguish comes and makes me tell My ghastly aventure. |