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, For a charnel-dungeon fitter : All fix'd on me their stony eyes The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never pass'd away : I could not draw my een from theirs Ne turn them up to pray. And in its time the spell was snapt, I look'd far-forth, but little saw Of what might else be seen. Like one, that on a lonely road And having once turn'd round, walks on Because he knows, a frightful fiend But soon there breath'd a wind on me, Ne sound ne motion made: Its path was not upon the sea It rais'd my hair, it fann'd my cheek, Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Yet she sail'd softly too : Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze On me alone it blew. O dream of joy! is this indeed Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk? Is this mine own countrée ? We drifted o'er the Harbour-bar, The harbour-bay was clear as glass, And the shadow of the moon. The moonlight bay was white all o'er, Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, Like as of torches came. A little distance from the prow I turn'd my head in fear and dread, The bodies had advanc'd, and now They lifted up their stiff right arms, They held them strait and tight; And each right-arm burnt like a torch, A torch that's borne upright. Their stony eye-balls glitter'd on In the red and smoky light. I pray'd and turn'd my head away There was no breeze upon the bay, The rock shone bright, the kirk no less That stands above the rock : The moonlight steep'd in silentness The steady weathercock. And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. A little distance from the prow I turn'd my eyes upon the deck— |