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But oh! more horrible than that And soon I heard a roaring wind :

He heareth Is a curse in a dead man's eye! It did not come anear;

sounds and seeth

strange sights Seven days, seven nights, I saw that But with its sound it shook the sails, and commotions curse, That were so thin and sere.

in the sky and And yet I could not die.

the element. un his loneliness The moving Moon went up the sky, And a hundred fire-flags sheen,

The upper air burst into life! and fixedness he yeurneth towards And nowhere did abide .

To and fro they were hurried about! the journeying Softly she was going up,

And to and fro, and in and out, Moon, and the And a star or two beside

The wan stars danced between.
stars that still so-
journ, yet still move onward ; and everywhere the blue sky
belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native And the coming wind did roar more
country and their own natural homes, which they enter unan- loud,
nounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is and the sails did sigh like sedge;
a silent joy at their arrival.

And the rain pour'd down from one
Her beams bemock'd the sultry main, The Moon was at its edge.

black cloud;
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship’s huge shadow The thick black cloud was cleft, and

The charmed water burnt alway

The Moon was at its side:
A still and awful red.

Like waters shot from some high crag,
By the light of Beyond the shadow of the ship

The lightning fell with never a jag, the Moon he be- I watch'd the water-snakes : A river steep and wide. holdeth God's creatures of the They moved in tracks of shining great calm. white,

The loud wind never reach'd the The bodies of the

ship, And when they rear'd, the elfish light

ship's crew are Fell off in hoary flakes. Yet now the ship moved on

inspired, and the

ship moves on
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
Within the shadow of the ship The dead men gave a groan.
I watch'd their rich attire :
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all
They coil'd and swam ; and every uprose,

Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
Was a flash of golden fire.

It had been strange, even in a dream,


To have seen those dead men rise.
Their peauty and O happy living things! no tongue
their happiness. Their beauty might declare :

The helmsman steer'd, the ship
A spring of love gush'd from my

moved on ,
He blesseth them And I bless'd them unaware :

Yet never a breeze up blew; in his heart. Sure my kind saint took pity on me, where they were wont to do;

The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
And I bless'd them unaware.

They raised their limbs like liseless
The spell begins The self-same moment I could pray ;

to break.
And from my neck so free

-We were a ghastly crew.
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

The body of my brother's son

Stood by me, knee 10 knee :

The body and I pull'd at one rope,
On Sleep! it is a gentle thing, But he said nought to me.
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given ! " I fear thee, ancient Mariner!” But not by the
She sent the gentle sleep from Be calm, thou Wedding-guest!

souls of the men Heaven,

nor by dæmons of 'T was not those souls that fied in

earth or middle That slid into my soul.


air, but by a

blessed troop of

Which to their corses came again, By grace of the

The silly buckets on the deck, boly Mother, the That had so long remain d,

angelic spirits, But a troop of spirits blest: [dew;

sent down by the ancient Mariner

invocation of the is refreshed with I dreamt that they were all'd with

For when it dawn'd—they dropp'd guardian saint. rain. And when I awoke, it rain'd.

their arms,
My lips were wet, my throat was cold, And cluster'd round the mast;
My garments all were dank; Sweet sounds rose slowly through
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,

their mouths,
And still my body drank.

And from their bodies passidh.
I moved, and could not feel my Around, around, flew each sweet
limbs :

I was so light-almost

Then darted to the Sun;
I thought that I had died in sleep,

Slowly the sounds came back again,
And was a blessed ghost.

Now mix'd, now one by one.


Sometimes, a-drooping from the sky,

I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all lille birds that are,
How they seem'd to fill the sea and But tell me, tell me ! speak again,

Thy soft response renewing-
With their sweet jargoning !

What makes that ship drive on so

fast ?

What is the OCEAN doing ?
And now 't was like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song, Still as a slave before his lord,
That makes the Heavens be mute.

The ocean hath no blast;

His great bright eye most silently
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 If he may know which way to go ;
In the leafy month of June, For she guides him smooth or grim.
That to the sleeping woods all night See, brother, see! how graciously
Singeth a quiet lune.

She looketh down on him.



Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe : But why drives on that ship so fast, The Mariner hath

been cast into a Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Without or wave or wind ?

trance; for the Moved onward from beneath.

angelic power SECOND VOICE.

cause th the vegThe air is cut away before,

sel to drive north The lonesonie Under the keel nine fathom deep,

And closes from behind.

ward faster than spirit from the From the land of mist and snow,

human life coula south-pola carries The spirit slid : and it was he

endure on the ship as far

Fly, brother, fly! more high, more as the line, in That made the ship to go.

high! obedience to the The sails at noon lest off their tune, Or we shall be belated : angelic troop, but And the ship stood still also. still requireth

For slow and slow that ship will go, vengeance.

When the Mariner's trance is abated.
The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fix'd her to the ocean :

I woke, and we were sailing on The supernatura
But in a minute she 'gan stir, As in a gentle weather :

motion is retard. With a short uneasy motion|'T was night, calm night, the Moon ed; the Mariner

awakes, and his Backwards and forwards half her was high ;

penance begins length

The dead men stood together.
With a short uneasy motion.

All stood together on the deck,
Then like a pawing horse let go, For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
She made a sudden bound : All fix'd on me their stony eyes,
It flung the blood into my head, That in the Moon did glitter.
And I fell down in a swound.

The pang, the curse, with which they
The Polar Spirit's How long in that same fit I lay,

died, fellow dæmons, I have not to declare ;

Had never pass'd away : the invisible in

But ere my living life return'd, habitants of the

I could not draw my eyes from theirs, element, take part I heard and in my soul discern'd

Nor turn them up to pray. in his wrong:

Two voices in the air. and two of them

And now this spell was snapt: once The curse is fi relate, one to the other, that pen- “Is it he?" quoth one, " Is this the more

pally expiated. ance long and man ?

I view'd the ocean green, heavy for the an- By him who died on cross,

And look'd far forth, yet little saw cient Mariner hath been accord. With his cruel bow he laid full low of what had else been seen ed to the Polar The harmless Albatross. Spirit, who re

Like one, that on a lonesome road turneth Bouth

The spirit who bideth by himself Doch walk in fear and dread,
In the land of mist and snow,

And having once turn'd round walks
He loved the bird that loved the


And turns no more his head ;
Who shot him with his bow." Because he knows, a frightful fiend,

Doth close behind him tread.
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew :

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Quoth he, “The man hath penance Nor sound nor motion made :

Its path was not upon the sea,
And penance more will do." In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fann'd my cheek He singeth loud his godly hymns
Like a meadow-gale of spring- That he makes in the wood.
It mingled strangely with my fears, He'll shrive my soul, he'll wash
Yet it felt like a welcoming.


The Albatross's blood.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sail'd sofily too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
On me alone it blew.

This Hermit good lives in that wood The Hermie of

Which slopes down to the sea the Wood, And the ancient Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed

How loudly his sweet voice he rears! Mariner behold- The light-house top I see?

He loves to talk with marineres eth his native Is this the hill ? is this the kirk?

That come from a far countrée.
Is this mine own countrée ?

He kneels at mom, and noon, and
We drifted o'er the harbor bar,

And I with sobs did pray-

He hath a cushion plump:
O let me be awake, my God! It is the moss that wholly hides
Or let me sleep alway.

The rotted old oak-stump.
The harhor-bay was clear as glass, The skiff-boat near’d: I heard them
So smoothly it was strewn!

And on the bay the moonlight lay, Why this is strange, I trow!
And the shadow of the moon. Where are those lights so many and

The rock shone bright, the kirk no That signal made but now?"

That stands above the rock:

Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit Apprcachetn tne
The moonlight steep'd in silentness said

ship with wonder The steady weathercock.

“ And they answer not our cheer!

The planks look warp'd! and see
And the bay was white with silent

those sails,

How thin they are and sere! The angelic spir- Till, rising from the same,

I never saw aught like to them, its leave the Full many shapes that shadows were, Unless perchance it were dead bodios, In crimson colors came. And appear in A little distance from the prow

“ Brown skeletons of leaves that lag their own forms Those crimson shadows were:

My forest-brook along; of light.

When the ivy-lod is heavy with snow,
I turn'd my eyes upon the deck-
Oh, Christ' what saw I there!

And the owlet whoops to the wolf

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat;

That eats the she-wolf's young."
And, by the holy rood !

“ Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look-
A man all light, a seraph-man,

(The Pilot made reply,)
On every corse there stood.

I am a-fear’d"—“Push on, push on!"
This seraph band, each waved his Said the Hermit cheerily.

hand :
It was a heavenly sight!

The boat came closer to the ship,
They stood as signals to the land But I nor spake nor stirr'd ;
Each one a lovely light;

The boat came close beneath the ship,

And straight a sound was heard.
This seraph band, each waved his

Under the water it rumbled on, The ship suddenly
No voice did they impart-
Still louder and more dread:

No voice; but oh! the silence sank It reach'd the ship, it split the bay;
Like music on my heart.

The ship went down like lead.
But soon I heard the dash of oars,

Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful The ancient Ma

sound, I heard the Pilot's cheer;

riner is saved in My head was turn'd perforce away, Like one that hath been seven days Which sky and ocean smote,

the Pilot's boat And I saw a boat appear.

The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,

My body lay afloat;
I heard them coming fast :

But swift as dreams, myself I found
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy

Within the Pilot's boat.
The dead men could not blast. Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,

The boat spun round and round;
I saw a third-I heard his voice : And all was still, save that the hill
It is the Hermit good!

Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips—the Pilot shriek’d, But in the garden-hower the bride
And fell down in a fit;

And bride

maids singing are: The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And hark! the little vesper-bell, And pray'd where he did sit.

Which biddeth me to prayer.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,

O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Who now doth crazy go,

Alone on a wide wide sea :
Laugh'd loud and long, and all the So lonely 't was, that God himself

Scarce seemed there to be.
Ilis eyes went to and fro.
“ Ha! ha!" quoth he, “ full plain I see, o sweeter than the marriage-feast,
The Devil knows how to row."

'Tis sweeter far to me,

To walk together to the kirk,
And now, all in my own countrée,
I stood on the firm land!

With a goodly company!
The Hermit stepp'd forth from the

To walk together to the kirk,

And all together pray,
And scarcely he could stand.

While each to his great Father bends,
The Ancient Ma- “O shrive me, shrive me, holy man!" Old men, and babes, and loving
Einer earnestly en- The Hermit cross'd his brow.

friends, seateth the Her nit to shrive him;

Say quick," quoth he, “ I bid thee And youths and maidens gay! and the penance say

And to teach, by of life falls on -What manner of man art thou?” Farewell, farewell! but this I tell

his own example, him.

To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!

love and reverForth with this frame of mine was He prayeth well, who loveth well ence to all things wrench'd Both man and bird and beast.

that God made With a woful agony,

and loveth. Which forced me to begin my tale; He prayeth best, who loveth best And then it left me free.

All things both great and small; And ever and Since then, at an uncertain hour,

For the dear God who loveth us, anon throughout That agony returns :

He made and loveth all. his future life an

And till my ghastly tale is told, agony constraineth him to travel This heart within me burns.

The Mariner, whose eye is bright, from land to land,

Whose beard with age is hoar,
I pass, like night, from land to land;


gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
I have strange power of speech;

Turn'd from the bridegroom's door.
That moment that his face I see,
I know the man that must hear me :
To him my tale I teach.

He went like one that hath been

What loud uproar bursts from that And is of sense forlorn,

A sadder and a wiser man
The wedding-guests are there : He rose the morrow morn.



at either of tho 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 preclı ding charges of plagiarism or servile imi

econd 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 and image is traditional; who have no notion that there have been, till very lately, in a state of suspended are such things as fountains in the world, small as animation, But as, in my very first conception of the well as great; and who would therefore charitably tale, I had the whole present to my mind, with the derive every rill they behold flowing, from a perforawholeness, no less than with the loveliness of a tion made in some other man's tank. I am confident, vision, I trust that I shall yet be able to embody in however, that as far as the present poem is concerned, verse the three parts yet to come.

the celebrated poets whose writings I might be sus. It is probable, that is the poem had been finished pected of having imitated, either in particular pas

sages, or in the tone and the spirit of the whole * To the edition of 1816

would be among the first to vindicate me from thi

The lady sprang up suddenly,
The lovely lady, Christabel i
It moan'd as near, as near can be,
But what it is, she cannot tell.-
On the other side it seems to be,
of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak-tree.

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;
But an' if this will not do.
Let it be mine, good friend! for I

Am the poorer of the two. 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 iwelve, 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.

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The night is chill; the forest bare ;
Is it the wind that moaneth bleak?
There is not wind enough in the air
To move away the ringlet curl
From the lovely lady's cheek—.
There is not wind enough to twirl
The one red leaf, the last of its clan,
That dances as often as dance it can,
Hanging so light, and hanging so high,
On the topmost twig that looks up at the sky.

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Is the night chilly and dark ?
The night is chilly, but not dark.
The thin gray cloud is spread on high,
It covers but not hides the sky.
The moon is behind, and at the full;
And yet she looks both small and dull.
The night is chill, the cloud is gray:
"T'is a month before the month of May,
And the Spring comes slowly up this way.

Mary mother, save me now!
(Said Christabel), And who art thou?
The lady strange made answer meet,
And her voice was faint and sweet :-
Have pity on my sore distress,
I scarce can speak for weariness :
Stretch forth thy hand, and have no fear!
Said Christabel, How camest thou here?
And the lady, whose voice was faint and sweet
Did thus pursue her answer meet -

The lovely lady, Christabel,
Whom her father loves so well,
What makes her in the wood so late,
A furlong from the castle gate ?
She had dreams all yesternight
Of her own betrothed knight;
And she in the midnight wood will pray
For the weal of her lover that's far away

My sire is of a noble line,
And my name is Geraldine :
Five warriors seized me yestermom,
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 feet as wind,
And they rode furiously behind.
They spurr'd amain, their steeds were white;
And once we cross'd the shade of night.
As sure as Heaven shall rescue me,
I have no thought what men they be;
Nor do I know how long it is
(For I have lain entranced I wis)
Since one, the tallest of the five,
Took me from the palfrey's back,
A weary woman, scarce alive.
Some mutter'd words his comrades spoke
He placed me underneath this oak,

She stole along, she nothing spoke,
The sighs she heaved were soft and low,
And naught was green upon the oak,
But moss and rarest misletoe :
She kneels beneath the huge oak-tree,
And in silence prayeth she.

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