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But not by the sonls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation

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

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And clustered round the mast;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their

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
I heard the sky-lark sing ;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seem'd to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the Heavens be mute.

It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid; and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.

The lonesome spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the line, in obedience to the angelic

troop, but

still requireth vengeance.

The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixt her to the ocean;
But in a minute she’gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion-
Backwards and forwards half her length,
With a short uneasy motion.

Then like a pawing horse let go,

She made a sudden bound :

It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.

his wrong;

The PolarSpi- How long in that same fit I lay,
rit's fellow-
dæmons, the

I have not to declare; invisible in

But ere my living life returned, habitants of the element, I heard and in my soul discerned take part in

Two Voices in the air. and two of them relate, one to the

“ Is it he?” quoth one, “ Is this the man? other, that penance long By him who died on cross,

, and heavy for

With his cruel bow he laid full 'low, the ancient Mariner hath The harmless Albatross. been accord. ed to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.

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."

The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew :
Quoth he, “ The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do."




But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing-
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing ?


Still as a slave before his lord,
The Ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast-

If he may know which way to go;
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see ! how graciously
She looketh down on him.

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