"Now, from that day, whenever I began
To dip my net, there stood the hard old man -
He and those boys: I humbled me and pray'd
They would be gone; they heeded not, but stay'd:
Nor could I turn, nor would the boat go by,
But, gazing on the spirits, there was I:
They bade me leap to death, but I was loth to die:
And every day, as sure as day arose,
Would these three spirits meet me ere the close;
To hear and mark them daily was my doom,
And 'Come,' they said, with weak, sad voices, 'Come.'
To row away, with all my strength I tried,
But there were they hard by me in the tide,
The three unbodied forms--and 'Come, still come,' they cried.
"Fathers should pity--but this old man shook
His hoary locks, and froze me by a look:
Thrice when I struck them, through the water came
A hollow groan, that weaken'd all my frame:
'Father!' said I, 'Have mercy:' he replied,
I know not what--the angry spirit lied, -
'Didst thou not draw thy knife?' said he: --'Twas true,
But I had pity and my arm withdrew:
He cried for mercy, which I kindly gave,
But he has no compassion in his grave.
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