This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree.
He kneels at morn and noon and eve--He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump.
The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, "Why this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair, That signal made but now?""Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said--"And they answered not our cheer!
The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were"Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along;When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young.""Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look--(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared"--"Push on, push on!"
Said the Hermit cheerily.
The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred;The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard.
Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat;But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the 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.
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro.
"Ha! ha!" quoth he, "full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row."And now, all in my own countree, I stood on the firm land!