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Page 317 - twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel's song, That makes the heavens be mute. It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook In the leafy month of June, That to the sleeping woods all night Singeth a quiet tune.
Page 324 - 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 shrieked And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes And prayed where he did sit.
Page 322 - 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.
Page 315 - Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Was a flash of golden fire.
Page 120 - Toll for the brave! Brave Kempenfelt is gone; His last sea-fight is fought; His work of glory done. It was not in the battle; No tempest gave the shock; She sprang no fatal leak ; She ran upon no rock.
Page 310 - And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe : For all averred, I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow.
Page 311 - There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist; It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist.
Page 322 - On every corse there stood. This seraph-band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light; 441 This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart — No voice; but oh!