‘But soon I heard the dash of oars, I heard the Pilot’s cheer; My head was turn’d perforce away, And I saw a boat appear.
‘The Pilot, and the Pilot’s boy, I heard them coming fast: Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast.
‘I saw a third—I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away The Albatross’s blood.’
PART VII ‘This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree.
‘He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve— He hath a cushion plump: It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak stump.
‘The skiff-boat near’d: I heard them talk, “Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?”
‘“Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said— “And they answer’d not our cheer! The planks look warp’d! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! 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, That eats the she-wolf’s young.”
‘“Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look”— (The Pilot made reply) “I am a-fear’d”—“Push on, push on!” Said the Hermit cheerily.
‘The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard.