But not by

the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint.

��SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

��They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose,

Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ;

It had been strange, even in a dream,

To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steer'd, the ship moved on;

Yet never a breeze tip-blew;

The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,

Where they were wont to do;

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools

We were a ghastly crew.

The body of my brother's son

Stood by me, knee to knee :

The body and I pull'd at one rope,

But he said naught to me/

1 1 fear thee, ancient Mariner ! '

4 Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest :

'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

Which to their corses came again,

But a troop of spirits blest:

For when it dawn'd they dropp'd their arms,

And cluster'd round the mast ;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,

And from their bodies pass'd.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,

Now mix'd, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky

I heard the skylark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

How they seem'd to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning !

�� �