‘Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: It reach’d the ship, it split the bay: The ship went down like lead.
‘Stunn’d by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat; 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.
‘I moved my lips—the Pilot shriek’d 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, 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 stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand.
‘“O shrieve me, shrieve 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 woful 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.