And now '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. Till noon we quietly sailèd on, Yet never a breeze did breathe: Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath. [Sidenote: The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.] 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. [Sidenote: The Polar Spirit's fellow-demons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.] 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 VI _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." [Sidenote: The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic power causeth the vessel to drive northward, faster than human life could endure.] _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." [Sidenote: The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew.]