PART VII. THIS Hermit good lives in that wood The Hermit of the wood, He kneels at morn, and noon, He hath a cushion plump : It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. and eve The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, "Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said "And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were "Brown 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, Approacheth the ship with wonder. The ship suddeuly sinketh. The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat. "Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look-- I am a-feared"-" Push on, push on!" The boat came closer to the ship, The boat came close beneath the ship, Under the water it rumbled on, It reached the ship, it split the bay; Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Like one that hath been seven days drowned But swift as dreams, myself I found Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, I moved my lips-the Pilot shrieked The holy Hermit raised his eyes, I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. "Ha! ha!" quoth he, “ full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row." And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, "O shrieve me, shrieve me, The Hermit crossed his brow. holy man!" "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou ?" Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; Since then, at an uncertain hour, And till my ghastly tale is told, I pass, like night, from land to land; The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him. And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land. And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth. What loud uproar bursts from that door! O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been So lonely 'twas, that God himself O sweeter than the marriage-feast, To walk together to the kirk To walk together to the kirk, While each to his great Father bends, He prayeth best, who loveth best |