SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY

I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
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,
1 stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

"O shrive me, shrive me, holy man!"
The Hermit crossed his brow.
"Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee

say—
What manner of man art thou ?"

Forthwith this frame of mine was

wrenched

With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns,
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

108

560

565

570

The ancient
Mariner earn-
estly entreateth
the Hermit to

shrive him;

and the penance

of life falls on

him.

575

580

And ever apd
anon throughout
his future life
an agony con-
straineth him to
travel from land
to land.

585