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, Till rising from the same Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. A little distance from the prow I turned my eyes upon the deck- Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; A man all light, a seraph-man, This seraph-band, each waved his hand : It was a heavenly sight: They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light : This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart No voice; but O! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the pilot's cheer: My head was turned perforce away, And I saw a boat appear. The pilot, and the pilot's boy, I saw a third-I heard his voice : It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood. 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 Mariners That come from a far countrée. He kneels at morn and noon and eveHe hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old Oak-stump. The Skiff-boat ner'd: ́ 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 saidAnd they answered not our cheer. The planks look warped, 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.' |