"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 curse, with which they died,

Had never passed away;

I could not draw my eyes from theirs,

Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapt: once more

I viewed the ocean green,

And looked far forth, yet little saw

Of what had else been seen

Like one, that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turned round, walks on

And turns no more his head

Because he knows, a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made:

Its path was not upon the sea

In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek,
Like a meadow-gale of spring-

It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,

Yet she sailed softly too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breezeOn me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?

Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk?

Is this mine own countrée ?

We drifted o'er the Harbour-bar,

And I with sobs did

pray

'O let me be awake, my God!

Or let me sleep alway.'

The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn !
And on the bay the moonlight lay,

And the shadow of the moon.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less

That stands above the rock :

The moonlight steeped in silentness

The steady weathercock.

And the bay was white with silent light,

Till rising from the same

Full many shapes, that shadows were,

In crimson colours came.

A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:

I turned my eyes upon the deck-
O Christ! what saw I there?

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat;
And by the Holy rood

A man all light, a seraph-man,
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:

This seraph-band, each waved his hand,

No voice did they impart

No voice; but O! the silence sank

Like music on my heart.

But soon I heard the dash of oars,

I heard the pilot's cheer:

My head was turned 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.