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onward without

With throats unslaked, with black lips One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, One after an-
baked,
Too quick for groan or sigh

other,
Agape they heard me call;

Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang,
A fash of joy
Gramercy! they for joy did grin, And cursed me with his

eye.
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
Four times fifty living men

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!
Almost

upon

the western wave
Rested the broad bright Sun;

PART IV.
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
• I Fear thee, ancient Mariner!

The wedding

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."
of
a ship.

(licaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if througli a dungeon-grate he peer'd - I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
With broad and burning face.

And thy skinny hand, so brown.»-
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-guest! But the ancient

Mariner assurer
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat This body dropt not down.

him of bis bodily loud)

life, and proceed.

elb to relate his How fast she nears and nears ! Alone, alone, all, all alone,

horrible penance.
Are those her sails that glance in the Alone on a wide wide sca!
Sun,

And never a saint took pity on
Like restless gossameres?

My soul in agony.

crew!

won!,

And its ribs are
Are those her ribs through which the The many men, so beautiful !

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.
The spectre-wo- Is that a DEATH, and are there two?
man and her
Is Death that woman's mate?
I look'd upon the rotting sea,

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,
Her locks were yellow as gold :

And there the dead men lay.
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare Life-In-Deato was sie, I look’d to Heaven, and tried to pray;
Who thicks man's blood with cold. But or ever a prayer had gush'd,

A wicked whisper came, and made
DEATR, and Lure-
The naked hulk alongside came,

My heart as dry as dust.
IN-DEATHI have

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

the sky,
No twilight with The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: Lay like a load on my weary eye,
in the courts of
At one stride comes the Dark;

And the dead were al my feet.
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea
Off shot the spectre-bark.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs, But the curse liv-

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.
My life-blood seem'd to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night, An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd A spirit from on high ;

white;
From the sails the dew did drip-
Till clomb above the eastern bar

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.

the sun

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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 :
Is a curse in a dead man's eye!

It did not come anear ;
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that But with its sound it shook the sails,
curse,

That were so thin and sere.
And yet I could not die.

The
upper

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 !
yearneth towards
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 will
move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is and the coming wind did roar more
their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural loud,
homes, which they enter announced, as lords that are certainly ex-
pected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.

And the sails did sigh like scdge;

And the rain pour'd down from one
Her beams bemock'd the sultry main,

black cloud;
Like April hoar-frost spread ;

The Moon was at its edge.
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway

The thick black cloud was cleft, and
A still and awful red.

still

The Moon was at its side:
By the light of Beyond the shadow of the ship

Like waters shot from some high crag,
The Moon lie be-
holdeth God's
I watch'd the water-snakes :

The lightning fell with never a jag,
creatures of the They moved in tracks of shining white, A river steep and wide.
great calu.

And when they rear'd, the elfislı light
Fell off in hoary tlakes.

The loud wind never reach'd the ship,

Yet now the ship moved on!
Within the shadow of the ship

Beneath the lightning and the moon
I watch'd their rich attire:

The dead men gave a groan.
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,

all

up-
They coil'd and swam; and ev'ry track They groan’d, they stirr'd, they
Was a flash of golden fire.

rose,

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.
Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love guslı'd from my heart, The helmsman steer’d, the ship moved
He bleveth them And I bless'd them unaware :
in his heart.

Sure

my

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;

pray;
to break.
And from my neck so free

They raised their limbs like lifeless tools
The Albatross fell off, and sank

-We were a ghastly crew.
Like lead into the sea.

The body of my brother's son

Stood by me, knee to knee:
PART V. ;

The body and I pulld 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!,
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,

Be calm, thou Wedding-guest!
That slid into my soul.

'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 :
holy Mother, the That had so long remain'd,
is refreshed with

I dreamt that they were filld with dew;
And when I awoke, it rain'd.

For when it dawn'd-they dropp'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 their
Sure I had drunken in my

dreams,

mouths,
And still my body drank.

And from their bodies pass'd.
I moved, and could not feel

Around, around, flew cach sweet sound,
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 chost.

Now mix'd, now one by one.

on;

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ancient

Marinur

my limbs :

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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,
The Sun, right up

above the mast, When the Mariner's trance is abated.
Had fix'd her to the ocean :
But in a minute she'gan stir,

I woke, and we were sailing on
With a short uneasy motion--

As in a gentle weather:
Backwards and forwards half her length | 'T was night, calm night, the Moon was
With a short uneasy motion.

high;

The dead men stood together.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:

All stood together on the deck,
It flung the blood into my head, For a charnel-dungeon fitter :
And I fell down in a swound,

All fix'd on me their stony eyes,

That in the Moon did glitter.
The Polar Spi- How long in that same fit I lay,
rit's fellow de-
I have not to declare;

The pang, the curse, with which they
mnogs, the invi-
sible inhabitants But ere my living life return'd,

died, of the element, I heard and in

my
soul discern'd

Had never pass'd away:
take part in his
wrong; and (wo Two voices in the air.

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

man ?
bath been accord.
od to the Polar By him who died on cross,

I view'd the ocean green,
Spirit, who re-
With his cruel bow he laid full low

And look'd far forth, yet little saw
turneth south-
ward,
The barmless Albatross.

Of what bad else been seen

The curse is fi nally espiated.

more

• The spirit who bideth by himself Like one, that on a lonesome road
In the land of mist and snow,

Doth walk in fear and dread,
He loved the bird that loved the man And having once turn d round walks on,
Who shot him with bis bow.,

And turns no more his head;

Because he knows, a frigbiful fiend
The other was a softer voice,

Doth close behind him tread.
As soft as lioney-dew:
Quoth he, The man hath penance But soon there breathed a wind on me,
done,

Nor sound nor motion made:
And penance more will do.,

Jis path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.

It raised my hair, it fapn'd my

clicek
Like a meadow-gale of spring-
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.

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.

rits leave the

Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,

PART VII.
Yet she sail'd softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-
Tans Hermit good lives in that wood The Hormit of

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?
Is this mine own countrce?

He kneels at morn, and noon and eve

He hath a cushion plump:
We drifted o'er the harbour bar,

It is the moss that wholly hides
And I with sobs did pray-.

The rotted old oak-stump.
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.

The skiff-boat neard : I heard them

talk, The harbour-bay was clear as glass,

• Why this is strange, I trow!
So smoothly it was strewn !

Where are those lights so many and fair,
And on the bay the moonlight lay,

That signal made but now ?»
And the shadow of the moon.

« Strange, by my faith!, the Hermit Approacheil the
said

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 !

I
And the bay was white with silent light,

never saw aught like to them,
Till rising from the same,

Unless perchance it were
The angelic spi- Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.

« Brown skeletons of leaves that lag dead bodies,

My forest-brook along; And appear in A little distance from the

prow

When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, their own forms Those crimson shadows were :

And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
of light.
I turn'd my eyes upon the deck-

That eats the she-wolfs young.»
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

« Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look-
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; (The Pilot made reply,)
And, by the holy rood !

I am a-fear'dı - Push on, push on!»
A man all light, a seraph-man, Said the Hermit cheerily.
On every corse there stood.

The boat came closer to the ship,
This seraph band, cach waved his hand: But I nor spake nor stirr'd ;
It was a heavenly sight!

The boat came close beneath the ship,
They stood as signals to the land,

And straight a sound was heard.
Each onc a lovely light;
Under the water it rumbled on,

The ship sudden
This seraph band, each waved bis hand, Still louder and more dread :

ly sinkeib, No voice did they impart

It reach'd the ship, it split the bay;
No voice; but oh! the silence sank

The ship went down like lead.
Like music on my heart.

Stupn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, The ancient Ma
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
Which sky and ocean smote,

riner is saved in I heard the Pilot's cheer;

The Pilot's boat.
Like one that hath been seven days
My head was turn'd perforee away,

drown'd
And I saw a boat appear.

My body lay afloat;
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,

Dut swift as dreams, myself I found
I heard them coming fast:

Within the Pilot's boat.
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.

Upon the wbirl, 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.

9

I moved my lips-the Pilot shriek’d,
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his

eyes,
And pray'd where he did sit.

But in the garden-bower the bride
And bride-maids singing are:
And hark! the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer.

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I took the oars : the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,

O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been

Alone on a wide wide sea :
Laugh'd loud and long, and all the while

So lonely 't was, that God himself
His
eyes went to and fro.

Scarce seemed there to be.
• Ha! ha!. quoth be, « full plain I see,
The Devil knows how to row.”

O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
And now, all in my own countree,

"T is sweeter far to me,
I stood on the firm land !

To walk together to the kirk
The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat, With a goodly company!-
And scarcely he could stand.

To walk together to the kick,
The ancient Ma «() shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!: And all together pray,
rimer earnestly

The Hermit cross'd his brow. entreateth the

While each to his great Father bends,
Hermit to sbrieve Say quick, quotlı he, « I bid thee say old men, and babes, and loving friends,
luim; and the peo - What manner of man art thou?,
Dance of life falls

And youths and maideus gay!
on him.
Forthwith this frame of mine was

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
wrench'd

To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;

He prayeth well, who loveth well

Both man and bird and beast.
And then it left me frec.
And ever and
Since then, at an uncertain hour,

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

eye

is bright,
I have strange power of speech ;

Whose beard with age is hoar,
That moment that his face I see,

Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
I know the man that must hear me:

Turn'd from the bridegroom's door.
To him my tale I tcach.

He went like one that hath been stunn'a,
What loud uproar bursts from that And is of sense forlorn :
door!

A sadder and a wiser man
The wedding-guests are there :

He rose the morrow morn.

And 10 tearn. loy
bis own example,
love and reve-
rence to all
things that God
made and loveth.

Christabel.

PREFACE.'

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

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