Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are

How they seemed 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 silently 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 sun right up above the mast
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir
With a short uneasy motion

K

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 into a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.

Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? By him who died on cross,

With his cruel bow he laid full low

The harmless Albatross.

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.'"

PART VI.

FIRST VOICE.

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

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.'

FIRST VOICE.

'But why drives on that ship so fast Without or wave or wind?'

SECOND VOICE.

'The air is cut away before,

And closes from behind.

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high, Or we shall be belated:

For slow and slow that ship will go,

When the Mariner's trace is abated.'

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 fixed on me their stony eyes
That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse,

with which they died,

Had never passed away;

I could not draw my eyes from theirs,

Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snap'd: once more
I viewed the ocean green,

And look'd far forth, yet little saw

Of what had else been seen

Like one,

that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turn'd roud, 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 fanned my cheek,
Like a meadow-gale of spring-
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?

Is this the hill? Is this the kirk ?
Is this mine own countrée ?

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.'

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn !
And on the bay the moonlight lay,

And the shadow of the moon.

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.