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With throats unslaked, with black lips One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, One after an-
Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang,
His shipmates (And I heard nor sigh nor groan),
drop down dead ; And horror fol- See! sec! (I cried) she tacks no more! With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, lows: for can it be Hither to work us weal;
They dropp'd down one by one. a ship, that comes
Without a breeze, without a tide, wind or tide! She steadies with upright keel! The souls did from their bodies fly, But LIFE-IN
DEATH begins her They tled to bliss or woe!
work ou the allThe western wave was all a flame, And every soul, it pass'd me by,
cient Mariner. The day was well nigh done,
Like the whizz of my cross-Bow!
the western wave
quest feareth that I fear thy skinny hand !
a spirit is talking It seemeth him And straight the Sun was fleck'd with And thou art long, and lank, and brown, to Lim; but the skeleton bars,
As is the ribb'd sea-sand."
(licaven's Mother send us grace!)
And thy skinny hand, so brown.»-
him of bis bodily loud)
life, and proceed.
elb to relate his How fast she nears and nears ! Alone, alone, all, all alone,
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
And its ribs are
He despiseth the
creatures of the seen as bars on Sun And they all dead did lie :
calin, the face of the Did peer, as through a grate;
And a thousand thousand slimy ibings setting Sun.
And is that Woman all her crow? Lived on; and so did I.
And ensieth that death-inate, an! no other on board
And drew my eyes away;
they should live,
and so many lie theskeleton-ship
I look'd upon the rotting deck,
dead. Like vessel, like
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
And there the dead men lay.
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
And the twain were casting dice; dicel for the ship's crew, and The game is done! I 've won, I've I closed my lids, and kept them close, she (the latter)
And the balls like pulses beat; winneth the ancient Mariner. Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and
And the dead were al my feet.
eth for bim in the Nor rot nor reek did they;
cye of the dead At the rising of We listen'd and look'd sid iys up! The look wit which they look'd on me the moon, Fear at my heart, as al a cup,
Had never pass'd away.
For tbo two last lines of this stanza, I am indehted to Mr
Wordsworth. It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey 10 The horned Moon, with one bright star Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the Autumn of 1797, that Within the nether tip.
this l'oem was planned, and in part composed.
He heareth sounds and seeth strange nights and coininotions in the sky and the element.
The bodies of the slrip's crew
are inspired, and the ship mores on;
But oh ! more horrible than that And soon I heard a roaring wind :
It did not come anear ;
That were so thin and sere.
air burst into life! In his loneliness The moving Moon went up the sky,
And a hundred fire-flags sheen, and lixedness be And no where did abide :
To and fro they were hurried about !
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.
And the sails did sigh like scdge;
And the rain pour'd down from one
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
And when they rear'd, the elfislı light
The loud wind never reach'd the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; Their beauty and O happy living things! no tonguc
It had been strange, even in a dream, their happiness.
To have seen those dead men rise.
A spring of love guslı'd from my heart, The helmsman steer’d, the ship moved
kind saint took pity on me, And I bless d them unaware.
Yet never a breeze up blew;
The mariners all'gan work the ropes, The spell begins The self-same moment I could
Where 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 pulld at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
« I fear thee, ancient Mariner!,
Be calm, thou Wedding-guest!
'T was not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again, By grace of the The silly buckets on the deck,
But a troop of spirits blest :
I dreamt that they were filld with dew;
For when it dawn'd-they dropp'd their
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their
And from their bodies pass'd.
Around, around, flew cach sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Now mix'd, now one by one.
my limbs :
The Mariner hath been cast into a traure; for the angelic power causeth the setsel to drive northward faster than human lifo could endure.
The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and bis penance begins anew.
The lonesome Under the keel nine fathom deep,
SECOND VOICE. spirit from the
From the land of mist and snow, The air is cut away before, south-pole carries on the ship as far The spirit slid : and it was he
And closes from behind. as the line, in That made the ship to go. obedience to the angelic troop, but The sails at noon left off their tune, Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! still requireih And the ship stood still also.
Or we shall be belated : vengeance.
For slow and slow that ship will go,
above the mast, When the Mariner's trance is abated.
I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
All fix'd on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they
died, of the element, I heard and in
Had never pass'd away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs, of the relate,
Nor turn them up to pray. one to the orber, that penance long and heavy for the
• Is it he ?» quoth one, « Is this the And now this spell was snapt: once ancient Mariner
I view'd the ocean green,
And look'd far forth, yet little saw
Of what bad else been seen
The curse is fi nally espiated.
• The spirit who bideth by himself Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frigbiful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
Nor sound nor motion made:
Jis path was not upon the sea,
It raised my hair, it fapn'd my
He singeth loud his godly hymns
rits leave the
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
the Wood, On me alone it blew.
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears! And the ancient Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
Ile loves to talk with marineres Mariner behold
That come from a far countree. oth his native
The light-house top I see? country.
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
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 neard : I heard them
talk, The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
• 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 Approacheil the
ship with The rock shone bright, the kirk no less
wonder. That stands above the rock:
• And they answer'd not our cheer! The moonlight steep'd in silentness
The planks look'd warp'd! and sce those
sails, The steady weathercock.
How thin they are and sere !
never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
« Brown skeletons of leaves that lag dead bodies,
My forest-brook along; And appear in A little distance from the
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, their own forms Those crimson shadows were :
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolfs young.»
« Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look-
I am a-fear'dı - Push on, push on!»
The boat came closer to the ship,
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.
The ship sudden
ly sinkeib, No voice did they impart
It reach'd the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
Stupn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, The ancient Ma
riner is saved in I heard the Pilot's cheer;
The Pilot's boat.
My body lay afloat;
Dut swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.
Upon the wbirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips-the Pilot shriek’d,
But in the garden-bower the bride
I took the oars : the Pilot's boy,
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea :
So lonely 't was, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
"T is sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
To walk together to the kick,
The Hermit cross'd his brow. entreateth the
While each to his great Father bends,
And youths and maideus 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 non throughout That agony returns :
All things both great and small; bis future life au
For the dear God who loveth us, agony constrain
And till my ghastly tale is told, eth him to travel This heart within me burns.
He made and loveth all. froin land to land, I pass, like night, from land to land;
The Mariner, whose
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turn'd from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that hath been stunn'a,
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.
And 10 tearn. loy
second part had been published in the year 180o, the impression of its originality would have been much
greater than I dare at present expect. But for this, I The first part of the following poem was written in the have only my own indolence to blame. The dates year one thousand seven hundred and ninety seven, at are mentioned for the exclusive purpose of precluding Stowey in the county of Somerset. The second part, charges of plagiarism or servile imitation from myself. after my return from Germany, in the year one thou- For there is amongst us a set of critics, who seem to sand eight hundred, at Keswick, Cumberland, Since hold, that every possible thought and image is tradithe latter date, my poetic powers have been, till very tional; who have no rotion that there are such things lately, in a state of suspended animation. But as, in as fountains in the world, small as well as great; and my very first conception of the tale, I had the whole who would therefore charitably derive every rill they present to my mind, with the wholeness, no less than behold flowing, from a perforation made in some other with the loveliness of a vision, I trust that I shall yet be man's tank. I am confident, however, that as far as the able to embody in verse the three parts yet to come. present poem is concerned, the celebrated poets whose
It is probable, that if the poem had been finished at writings I might be suspected of having imitated, either either of the former periods, or if even the first and in particular passages, or in the tone and the spirit of 1 To the edition of 1816.
the whole, would be among the first to vindicate me