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The upper air burst into life!
n his loneliness The moving Moon went up the sky, And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the
stars that still so
And nowhere did abide.
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside
journ, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's
creatures of the
Their Deauty and their happiness.
He blesseth them in his heart.
The spell begins
By grace of the holy Mother, the
is refreshed with
Her beams bemock'd the sultry main,
But where the ship's huge shadow
The charmed water burnt alway
Beyond the shadow of the ship
And when they rear'd, the elfish light
Within the shadow of the ship
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue
A spring of love gush'd from my
And I bless'd them unaware:
To and fro they were hurried about!
And the coming wind did roar more
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
The thick black cloud was cleft, and
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
in the sky and
The helmsman steer'd, the ship
Yet never a breeze up blew;
Sure my kind saint took pity on me, Where they were wont to do;
The self-same moment I could pray
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Oн Sleep! it is a gentle thing,
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck,
They raised their limbs like lifeless
-We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother's son
ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold, And cluster'd round the mast;
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
And still my body drank.
Sweet sounds rose slowly through
And from their bodies pass'd.
I moved, and could not feel my Around, around, flew each sweet
I was so light-almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint.
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.
Sometimes, a-drooping from the sky,
With their sweet jargoning!
And now 't was like all instruments,
BUT tell me, tell me! speak again,
What is the OCEAN doing?
Still as a slave before his lord,
It ceased; yet still the sails made on Up to the Moon is cast
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
If he may know which way to go;
That to the sleeping woods all night See, brother, see! how graciously
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
The sails at noon left off their tune,
The Sun, right up above the mast,
With a short uneasy motion.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
"Is this the
heavy for the an- By him who died on cross,
I view'd the ocean green,
hath been accord- With his cruel bow he laid full low Of what had else been seen
And the ancient
eth his native
The angelic spir-
And appear in their own forms of light.
It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
We drifted o'er the harbor bar,
The harbor-bay was clear as glass,
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
He singeth loud his godly hymns
The Albatross's blood.
THIS Hermit good lives in that wood The Hermit of
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He kneels at morn, and noon, and
He hath a cushion plump:
The skiff-boat near'd: I heard them
"Why this is strange, I trow!
The rock shone bright, the kirk no That signal made but now?"
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steep'd in silentness
And the bay was white with silent
Till, rising from the same,
"Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit Apprcachetn the ship with wonder
"And they answer not our cheer!
How thin they are and sere!
Full many shapes that shadows were, Unless perchance it were
No voice did they impart-
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
The ship went down like lead.
The ship suddenly sinketh
Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful The ancient Ma
My head was turn'd perforce away, Like one that hath been seven days
And I saw a boat appear.
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
I saw a third-I heard his voice:
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
riner is saved in
the Pilot's boat
The ancient MaEiner earnestly enreateth the Hermit to shrive him; and the penance of life falls on him.
And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land,
I moved my lips-the Pilot shriek'd, But in the garden-bower the bride
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
And bride-maids singing are:
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Laugh'd loud and long, and all the So lonely 'twas, that God himself
-What manner of man art thou?"
Forthwith this frame of mine was
With a woful agony,
Scarce seemed there to be.
sweeter than the marriage-feast,
To walk together to the kirk,
While each to his great Father bends,
And youths and maidens gay!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
Both man and bird and beast.
Which forced me to begin my tale; He prayeth best, who loveth best
And then it left me free.
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
And till my ghastly tale is told,
pass, like night, from land to land;
I know the man that must hear me :
All things both great and small;
He went like one that hath been
What loud uproar bursts from that And is of sense forlorn,
And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.
at either of the former periods, or if even the first and second part had been published in the year 1800, the impression of its originality would have been much greater than I dare at present expect. But THE first part of the following poem was written in for this, I have only my own indolence to blame. the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety- The dates are mentioned for the exclusive purpose seven, at Stowey in the county of Somerset. The of precl ding charges of plagiarism or servile imiecond part, after my return from Germany, in the tation from myself. For there is amongst us a set of year one thousand eight hundred, at Keswick, Cum-critics, who seem to hold, that every possible thought berland. Since the latter date, my poetic powers have been, till very lately, in a state of suspended animation. But as, in my very first conception of the tale, I had the whole present to my mind, with the wholeness, no less than with the loveliness of a vision, I trust that I shall yet be able to embody in verse the three parts yet to come.
It is probable, that if the poem had been finished
To the edition of 1816
and image is traditional; who have no notion that there are such things as fountains in the world, small as well as great; and who would therefore charitably derive every rill they behold flowing, from a perforation made in some other man's tank. I am confident, however, that as far as the present poem is concerned, the celebrated poets whose writings I might be suspected of having imitated, either in particular passages, or in the tone and the spirit of the whole would be among the first to vindicate me from th
charge, and who, on any striking coincidence, would permit me to address them in this doggrel version of two monkish Latin hexameters.
'Tis mine and it is likewise yours;
Let it be mine, good friend! for I
I have only to add that the metre of the Christabel is not, properly speaking, irregular, though it may seem so from its being founded on a new principle: namely, that of counting in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be found to be only four. Nevertheless this occasional variation in number of syllables is not introduced wantonly, or for the mere ends of convenience, but in correspondence with some transition, in the nature of the imagery or passion.
"Tis the middle of night by the castle clock, And the owls have awaken'd the crowing cock; Tu-whit!-Tu-whoo!
And hark, again! the crowing cock,
Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
Hath a toothless mastiff, which
From her kennel beneath the rock
Maketh answer to the clock,
Four for the quarters, and twelve for the hour;
Is the night chilly and dark?
The lovely lady, Christabel,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle gate?
And she in the midnight wood will pray
She stole along, she nothing spoke,
She kneels beneath the huge oak-tree,
The lady sprang up suddenly,
It moan'd as near, as near can be,
The night is chill; the forest bare;
Hush, beating heart of Christabel !
She folded her arms beneath her cloak,
There she sees a damsel bright,
That shadowy in the moonlight shone:
Mary mother, save me now!
(Said Christabel), And who art thou?
I scarce can speak for weariness:
Said Christabel, How camest thou here?
My sire is of a noble line,
And my name is Geraldine :
Five warriors seized me yestermorn,
Me, even me, a maid forlorn :
They choked my cries with force and fright,
And tied me on a palfrey white.
The palfrey was as fleet as wind,
And they rode furiously behind.
They spurr'd amain, their steeds were white;
I have no thought what men they be;
Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke