But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.

"Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

555

559

"I moved my lips-the Pilot shriek'd And fell down in a fit;

The holy Hermit raised his eyes,

And pray'd where he did sit.

563

"I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go,

Laugh'd 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 stepp'd forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

666

"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' The Hermit cross'd his brow.

'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou?'

"Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd

With a woful agony,

Which forced me to begin my tale;

And then it left me free.

581

And ever
and anon
throughout
his future life
an agony
constraineth
him to travel

from land to
land;

66

Since then, at an uncertain hour,

That agony returns:

And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

"I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,

585

I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.

590

What loud uproar bursts from that door!

The wedding-guests are there:

But in the garden-bower the Bride

And bride-maids singing are:

And hark, the little vesper bell,

Which biddeth me to prayer!

596

"O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been

Alone on a wide, wide sea:

So lonely 't was, that God Himself
Scarce seemèd there to be.

600

"O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'T is sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!.

604

"To walk together to the kirk,

And all together pray,

While each to his great Father bends,

66

Old men, and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maidens gay!

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

"He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,

Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turn'd from the Bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunn'd,
And is of sense forlorn:

A sadder and a wiser man,

609

and to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to

613 all things that God made and loveth.

617

621

He rose the morrow morn. 1798.

625

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

YE MARINERS OF ENGLAND

YE Mariners of England!

That guard our native seas;

Whose flag has braved, a thousand years,
The battle and the breeze!

Your glorious standard launch again
To match another foe!

And sweep through the deep,

While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The spirits of your fathers

Shall start from every wave! —

For the deck it was their field of fame,
And Ocean was their grave:

Where Blake and mighty Nelson fell,

Your manly hearts shall glow,

As ye sweep through the deep,
While the stormy winds do blow;
While the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

Britannia needs no bulwarks,

No towers along the steep;

Her march is o'er the mountain-waves,
Her home is on the deep.

ΤΟ

20

1801.

With thunders from her native oak,
She quells the floods below,-

As they roar on the shore,

When the stormy winds do blow;
When the battle rages loud and long,
And the stormy winds do blow.

The meteor flag of England
Shall yet terrific burn;

Till danger's troubled night depart,
And the star of peace return.

Then, then, ye ocean warriors!
Our song and feast shall flow
To the fame of your name,

When the storm has ceased to blow;
When the fiery fight is heard no more,
And the storm has ceased to blow.

Thomas Campbell.

30

40

THE LANDING OF THE PILGRIM FATHERS IN NEW ENGLAND

THE breaking waves dashed high
On a stern and rock-bound coast,
And the woods against a stormy sky
Their giant branches tossed;

And the heavy night hung dark

The hills and waters o'er,

When a band of exiles moored their bark

On the wild New England shore.

8