200.-THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER, § 2.

The thick black cloud was cleft, and still Sometimes a-dropping from the sky,

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 sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath,

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.
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,

man?

By him who died on cross,

*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.
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.

"Is this the The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away :

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."

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 north, 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 breeze—
On me alone it blew.

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

Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree ?

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.

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.

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.

PART VII

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 mariners
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 rock shone bright, the kirk no less, The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,

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—
Oh, 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;

"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 lay
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.

This seraph-band, each waved his hand: The boat came closer to the ship,

No voice did they impart

No voice; but oh! the silence sank

Like music on my heart.

But I nor spake nor stirred;

The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

Like one that hath been seven days What loud uproar bursts from that door!

Laughed loud and long, and all the And all together pray,

201.-ADVICE TO HIS FAMILY.

[IN a preceding article, No. 187, we have exhibited the views of an American writer upon the opinions of William Penn. It appears to us that the philosophical theories of Mr. Bancroft have led him to speak of the doctrines of John Locke, which he contrasts with those of Penn, in a manner which scarcely does justice to the love of truth and freedom which characterise the author of the Essay on the Human Understanding.' But be this as it may,

Penn, the illustrious founder of Pennsylvania, was a man worthy to be held in reverence, although some parts of his political conduct, in an age of corruptness and subserviency, have been attacked by a great writer. He was the only son of Sir William Penn, a distinguished Admiral; was born in 1644; received an excellent education, but disappointed the ambitious hopes of his father by his determined adherence to the new doctrines of the Society of Friends. After a variety of persecutions, which he bore with exemplary courage and patience, he obtained from Charles II. a grant of country on the West side of the Delaware, in consideration of a public debt due to his father. His Treaty with the Indians, and his Code for the government of his province, are familiar to all. He returned to England, and died in 1718. Previous to his embarkation for America he addressed a letter to his wife and children, which is highly characteristic of the simplicity and piety of the man.]

MY DEAR WIFE AND CHILDREN—

My love, which neither sea, nor land, nor death itself, can extinguish or lessen toward you, most endearingly visits you with eternal embraces, and will abide with you for ever; and may the God of my life watch over you, and bless you, and do you good in this world and for ever!-Some things are upon my spirit to leave with you in your respective capacities, as I am to one a husband, and to the rest a father, if I should never see you more in this world.

My dear wife! Remember thou wast the love of my youth, and much the joy of my life; the most beloved as well as most worthy of all my earthly comforts; and the reason of that love was more thy inward than thy outward excellencies, which yet were many. God knows, and thou knowest it, I can say it was a match

of Providence's making; and God's image in us both was the first thing, and the most amiable and engaging ornament in our eyes. Now I am to leave thee, and that without knowing whether I shall ever see thee more in this world, take my counsel into thy bosom, and let it dwell with thee in my stead while thou livest. [After some counsel relative to godliness and economy, he proceeds :—] And now, my dearest, let me recommend to thy care my dear children; abundantly beloved of me, as the Lord's blessings, and the sweet pledges of our mutual and endeared affection. Above all things endeavour to breed them up in the love of virtue, and that holy plain way of it which we have lived in, that the world in no part of it get into my family. I had rather they were homely than finely bred as to outward behaviour; yet I love sweetness mixed with gravity, and cheerfulness tempered with sobriety. Religion in the heart leads into this true civility, teaching men and women to be mild and courteous in their behaviour; an accomplishment worthy indeed of praise.

Next breed them up in love one of another; tell them it is the charge I left behind me; and that it is the way to have the love and blessing of God upon them. Sometimes separate them, but not long; and allow them to send and give each other small things to endear one another with.

Once more I say, tell them it was my counsel they should be tender and affectionate one to another. For their learning be liberal. Spare no cost; for by such parsimony all is lost that is saved; but let it be useful knowledge, such as is consistent with truth and godliness, not cherishing a vain conversation or idle mind ; but ingenuity mixed with industry is good for the body and the mind too. I recommend the useful parts of mathematics, as building houses or ships, measuring, surveying, dialling, navigation; but agriculture is especially in my eye: let my children be husbandmen and housewives; it is industrious, healthy, honest, and of good example: like Abraham and the holy ancients, who pleased God, and obtained a good report. This leads to consider the works of God and nature, of things that are good, and diverts the mind from being taken up with the vain arts and inventions of a luxurious world. Rather keep an ingenious person in the house to teach them, than send them to schools, too many evil impressions being commonly received there.

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