FRONTISPIECE
. . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . PAGE
Vignette . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 6
Heading . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 7
"And he stoppeth
one of three" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 8
"He holds him with
his glittering eye" . . . . . . . . . 9
"The ship was
cheered, the harbour cleared" . . . . . . 10
"Yet he cannot
chuse but hear" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 11
"And a good south
wind sprung up behind, the
Albatross did follow" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 13
"I shot the
Albatross" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 15
"As idle as a
painted ship upon a painted ocean" . . . . 17
"And I had done an
hellish thing" . . . . . . . . . . . 19
"When that strange
shape drove suddenly betwixt
us and the Sun" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 20
"A speck, a mist,
a shape, I wist" . . . . . . . . . . . 21
"The game is done!
I've won! I've won!" . . . . . . . 23
"Alone on a wide
wide sea" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 25
"Beyond the shadow
of the ship I watched
the water-snakes" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 27
"And when I awoke
it rained" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29
"The helmsman
steered, the ship moved on" . . . . . . . 31
"The spirit slid:
and it was he, that made
the ship to go" . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 33
"And I fell down
in a swound" . . . . . . . . . . . . . 35
"But why drives on
that ship so fast?" . . . . . . . . . 37
"We drifted o'er
the harbour-bar" . . . . . . . . . . . 39
"And on the bay
the moonlight lay" . . . . . . . . . . . 41
"Dear Lord! it
hath a fiendish look" . . . . . . . . . . 43
"Oh shrieve me,
shrieve me, holy man!" . . . . . . . . . 45
"He prayeth well
who loveth well" . . . . . . . . . . . 47
Vignette . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 48
IT is an ancient
Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of
three.
"By thy long grey
beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st
thou me?
"The Bridegroom's
doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the
feast is set:
May'st hear the merry
din."
He holds him with his
skinny hand,
"There was a
ship," quoth he.
"Hold off! unhand
me, grey-beard loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropt
he.
He holds him with his
glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood
still,
And listens like a
three years child:
The Mariner hath his
will.
The Wedding-Guest sat
on a stone:
He cannot chuse but
hear;
And thus spake on that
ancient man,
The bright-eyed
Mariner.
The ship was cheered,
the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below
the hill,
Below the light-house
top.
The Sun came up upon
the left,
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright,
and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every
day,
Till over the mast at
noon--
The Wedding-Guest here
beat his breast,
For he heard the loud
bassoon.
The bride hath paced
into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads
before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he
beat his breast,
Yet he cannot chuse but
hear;
And thus spake on that
ancient man,
The bright-eyed
Mariner.
And now the STORM-BLAST
came, and he
Was tyrannous and
strong:
He struck with his
o'ertaking wings,
And chased south along.
With sloping masts and
dipping prow,
As who pursued with
yell and blow
Still treads the shadow
of his foe
And forward bends his
head,
The ship drove fast, loud
roared the blast,
And southward aye we
fled.
And now there came both
mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous
cold:
And ice, mast-high,
came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts
the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal
sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor
beasts we ken--
The ice was all
between.
The ice was here, the
ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled,
and roared and howled,
Like noises in a
swound!
At length did cross an
Albatross:
Thorough the fog it
came;
As if it had been a
Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's
name.
It ate the food it
ne'er had eat,
And round and round it
flew.
The ice did split with
a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us
through!
And a good south wind
sprung up behind;
The Albatross did
follow,
And every day, for food
or play,
Came to the mariners'
hollo!
In mist or cloud, on
mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers
nine;
Whiles all the night,
through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white
Moon-shine.
"God save thee,
ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that
plague thee thus!--
Why look'st thou
so?"--With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.
THE Sun now rose upon
the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and
on the left
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind
still blew behind
But no sweet bird did
follow,
Nor any day for food or
play
Came to the mariners'
hollo!
And I had done an
hellish thing,
And it would work 'em
woe:
For all averred, I had
killed the bird
That made the breeze to
blow.
Ah wretch! said they,
the bird to slay
That made the breeze to
blow!
Nor dim nor red, like
God's own head,
The glorious Sun
uprist:
Then all averred, I had
killed the bird
That brought the fog
and mist.
'Twas right, said they,
such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and
mist.
The fair breeze blew,
the white foam flew,
The furrow followed
free:
We were the first that
ever burst
Into that silent sea.
Down dropt the breeze,
the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could
be;
And we did speak only
to break
The silence of the sea!
All in a hot and copper
sky,
The bloody Sun, at
noon,
Right up above the mast
did stand,
No bigger than the
Moon.
Day after day, day
after day,
We stuck, nor breath
nor motion;
As idle as a painted
ship
Upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every
where,
And all the boards did
shrink;
Water, water, every
where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot:
O Christ!
That ever this should
be!
Yea, slimy things did
crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel
and rout
The death-fires danced
at night;
The water, like a
witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue
and white.
And some in dreams
assured were
Of the spirit that
plagued us so:
Nine fathom deep he had
followed us
From the land of mist
and snow.
And every tongue,
through utter drought,
Was withered at the
root;
We could not speak, no
more than if
We had been choked with
soot.
Ah! well a-day! what
evil looks
Had I from old and
young!
Instead of the cross,
the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
THERE passed a weary
time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed
each eye.
A weary time! a weary
time!
How glazed each weary
eye,
When looking westward,
I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a
little speck,
And then it seemed a
mist:
It moved and moved, and
took at last
A certain shape, I
wist.
A speck, a mist, a
shape, I wist!
And still it neared and
neared:
As if it dodged a
water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked
and veered.
With throats unslaked,
with black lips baked,
We could not laugh nor
wail;
Through utter drought
all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked
the blood,
And cried, A sail! a
sail!
With throats unslaked,
with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me
call:
Gramercy! they for joy
did grin,
And all at once their
breath drew in,
As they were drinking
all.
See! see! (I cried) she
tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze,
without a tide,
She steadies with
upright keel!
The western wave was
all a-flame
The day was well nigh
done!
Almost upon the western
wave
Rested the broad bright
Sun;
When that strange shape
drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And straight the Sun
was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send
us grace!)
As if through a
dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning
face.
Alas! (thought I, and
my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and
nears!
Are those her sails
that glance in the Sun,
Like restless
gossameres!
Are those her ribs
through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a
grate?
And is that Woman all
her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and
are there two?
Is DEATH that woman's
mate?
Her lips were red, her
looks were free,
Her locks were yellow
as gold:
Her skin was as white
as leprosy,
The Night-Mare
LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood
with cold.
The naked hulk
alongside came,
And the twain were
casting dice;
"The game is done!
I've won! I've won!"
Quoth she, and whistles
thrice.
The Sun's rim dips; the
stars rush out:
At one stride comes the
dark;
With far-heard whisper,
o'er the sea.
Off shot the
spectre-bark.
We listened and looked
sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at
a cup,
My life-blood seemed to
sip!
The stars were dim, and
thick the night,
The steersman's face by
his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew
did drip--
Till clombe above the
eastern bar
The horned Moon, with
one bright star
Within the nether tip.
One after one, by the
star-dogged Moon
Too quick for groan or
sigh,
Each turned his face
with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his
eye.
Four times fifty living
men,
(And I heard nor sigh
nor groan)
With heavy thump, a
lifeless lump,
They dropped down one
by one.
The souls did from
their bodies fly,--
They fled to bliss or
woe!
And every soul, it
passed me by,
Like the whizz of my
CROSS-BOW!
"I FEAR thee,
ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and
lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed
sea-sand.
"I fear thee and
thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so
brown."--
Fear not, fear not,
thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt not
down.
Alone, alone, all, all
alone,
Alone on a wide wide
sea!
And never a saint took
pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men, so
beautiful!
And they all dead did
lie:
And a thousand thousand
slimy things
Lived on; and so did I
I looked upon the
rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the
rotting deck,
And there the dead men
lay.
I looked to Heaven, and
tried to pray:
But or ever a prayer
had gusht,
A wicked whisper came,
and made
my heart as dry as
dust.
I closed my lids, and
kept them close,
And the balls like
pulses beat;
For the sky and the
sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay like a load on my
weary eye,
And the dead were at my
feet.
The cold sweat melted
from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did
they:
The look with which
they looked on me
Had never passed away.
An orphan's curse would
drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible
than that
Is a curse in a dead
man's eye!
Seven days, seven
nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not
die.
The moving Moon went up
the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going
up,
And a star or two
beside.
Her beams bemocked the
sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost
spread;
But where the ship's
huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt
alway
A still and awful red.
Beyond the shadow of
the ship,
I watched the
water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of
shining white,
And when they reared,
the elfish light
Fell off in hoary
flakes.
Within the shadow of
the ship
I watched their rich
attire:
Blue, glossy green, and
velvet black,
They coiled and swam;
and every track
Was a flash of golden
fire.
O happy living things!
no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed
from my heart,
And I blessed them
unaware:
Sure my kind saint took
pity on me,
And I blessed them
unaware.
The self same moment I
could pray;
And from my neck so
free
The Albatross fell off,
and sank
Like lead into the sea.
OH sleep! it is a
gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the
praise be given!
She sent the gentle
sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on
the deck,
That had so long
remained,
I dreamt that they were
filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it
rained.
My lips were wet, my
throat was cold,
My garments all were
dank;
Sure I had drunken in
my dreams,
And still my body
drank.
I moved, and could not
feel my limbs:
I was so light--almost
I thought that I had
died in sleep,
And was a blessed
ghost.
And soon I heard a
roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it
shook the sails,
That were so thin and
sere.
The upper air burst
into life!
And a hundred
fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were
hurried about!
And to and fro, and in
and out,
The wan stars danced
between.
And the coming wind did
roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh
like sedge;
And the rain poured
down from one black cloud;
The Moon was at its
edge.
The thick black cloud
was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its
side:
Like waters shot from
some high crag,
The lightning fell with
never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
The loud wind never
reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved
on!
Beneath the lightning
and the Moon
The dead men gave a
groan.
They groaned, they
stirred, 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 steered,
the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up
blew;
The mariners all 'gan
work the ropes,
Were 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 pulled
at one rope,
But he said nought to
me.
"I fear thee,
ancient Mariner!"
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
dawned--they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the
mast;
Sweet sounds rose
slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies
passed.
Around, around, flew
each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came
back again,
Now mixed, now one by
one.
Sometimes a-dropping
from the sky
I heard the sky-lark
sing;
Sometimes all little
birds that are,
How they seemed to fill
the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
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, "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."
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.
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.
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.
The pang, the curse,
with which they died,
Had never passed away:
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 forth,
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.
The rock shone bright,
the kirk no less,
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:
This seraph-band, each
waved his hand,
No voice did they
impart--
No voice; but oh! the
silence sank
Like music on my heart.
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.
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!
The Hermit stepped
forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could
stand.
"O shrieve me,
shrieve me, holy man!"
The Hermit crossed his
brow.
"Say quick,"
quoth he, "I bid thee say--
What manner of man art
thou?"
Forthwith this frame of
mine was wrenched
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to
begin my tale;
And then it left me
free.
Since then, at an
uncertain hour,
That agony returns;
And till my ghastly
tale is told,
This heart within me
burns.
I pass, like night,
from land to land;
I have strange power of
speech;
That moment that his
face I see,
I know the man that
must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
What loud uproar bursts
from that door!
The wedding-guests are
there:
But in the garden-bower
the bride
And bride-maids singing
are:
And hark the little
vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to
prayer!
O Wedding-Guest! this
soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide
sea:
So lonely 'twas, that
God himself
Scarce seemed there to
be.
O sweeter than the
marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the
kirk
With a goodly
company!--
To walk together to the
kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great
Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and
loving friends,
And youths and maidens
gay!
Farewell, farewell! but
this I tell
To thee, thou
Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who
loveth well
Both man and bird and
beast.
He prayeth best, who
loveth best
All things both great
and small;
For the dear God who
loveth us
He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye
is bright,
Whose beard with age is
hoar,
Is gone: and now the
Wedding-Guest
Turned from the
bridegroom's door.
He went like one that
hath been stunned,
And is of sense
forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser
man,
He rose the morrow
morn.