And the ancient holdeth his na- "Like one that on a lonesome road 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 fann'd my cheek, Like a meadow-gale of spring— It mingled strangely with my fears, Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, "Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the hill? is this the kirk? "We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray O let me be awake, my God! Or let me sleep alway. |