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And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the rain poured down from one black cloud
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
It had been strange, even in a dream,
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-
The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
"I fear thee, ancient mariner !"
Be calm, thou wedding-guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned-they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky,
Sometimes all little birds that are,
And now it is an angel's song
That makes the heavens mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like that of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
The sails at noon left off their tune,
The Sun, right up above the mast,
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
Backwards and forwards half her length
Then like a pawing horse let go,
But ere my living life returned,
"Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless albatross.
"The spirit who bideth by himself
He loved the bird that loved the man
The other was a softer voice,
But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing
What makes that ship drive on so fast!
Still as a slave before his lord,
His great bright eye most silently
If he may know which way to go;
But why drives on that ship so fast,
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
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.
I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high; The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
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.
And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far north, 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,
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
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,
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
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
A little distance from the prow
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,
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
My head was turned perforce away,
The pilot and the pilot's boy,
I saw a third-I hear his voice:
He singeth loud his godly hymns
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
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
Brown skeletons of leaves that lay
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)