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'Within the shadow of the ship
'O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare : A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware: Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I bless'd them unaware.
'The selfsame moment I could pray ;
And from my neck so free
'O sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given ! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven That slid into my soul.
'The silly buckets on the deck
That had so long remain'd,
I dreamt that they were fill'd with dew; And when I awoke, it rain'd.
'My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
'I moved, and could not feel my
I thought that I had died in sleep,
' And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
'The upper air burst into life!
The wan stars danced between.
'And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain pour'd down from one black cloud;
'The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
'The loud wind never reach'd the ship,
"They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose
It had been strange, e'en in a dream,
sere] withered and dry.
sheen] adj., bright.
"The helmsman steer'd; the ship moved on;
'The body of my brother's son
-'I fear thee, ancient Mariner !
'For when it dawn'd they dropp'd their arms,
And cluster'd round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies pass'd.
‘Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
'Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
'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,
'Till noon we quietly sail'd on,
'Under the keel nine fathom deep,
The sails at noon left off their tune,
'The Sun, right up above the mast,
But in a minute she gan stir,
'Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
'How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare;
But ere my living life return'd,
"Is it he?" quoth one,
is this the man?
"The Spirit who bideth by himself
He loved the bird that loved the man
'The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, "The man hath penance done, And penance more will do."
"" But tell me, tell me! speak again,
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
Still as a slave before his lord,
His great bright eye most silently
penance] punishment to do away sin.