Singeth a quiet tune. Till noon we quietly sailed on, Yet never a breeze did breathe:      Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath. Under the keel nine fathom deep, From the land of mist and snow, The spirit slid: and it was he That made the ship to go. The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also. The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean:      But in a minute she 'gan stir, With a short uneasy motion—      Backwards and forwards half her length With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, She made a sudden bound:      It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. How long in that same fit I lay, I have not to declare; But ere my living life returned, I heard and in my soul discerned Two VOICES in the air.       "Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man? By him who died on cross, With his cruel bow he laid full low, The harmless Albatross.       "The spirit who bideth by himself In the land of mist and snow, He loved the bird that loved the man Who shot him with his bow."       The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew:      Quoth he, "The man hath penance done, And penance more will do." 

  

       PART THE SIXTH.     

      FIRST VOICE. But tell me, tell me! speak again, Thy soft response renewing—      What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the OCEAN doing? 

      SECOND VOICE. Still as a slave before his lord, The OCEAN hath no blast; His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast—       If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim See, brother, see! how graciously She looketh down on him. 

      FIRST VOICE. But why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind? 

      SECOND VOICE. The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high Or we shall be belated:      For slow and slow that ship will go, When the Mariner's trance is abated. I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather:      'Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high; The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter:      All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the 

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