| 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, | 5 |
| And I am next of kin; | |
| The guests are met, the feast is set: | |
| Mayst hear the merry din.' | |
| |
| He holds him with his skinny hand, | |
| "There was a ship," quoth he. | 10 |
| `Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' | |
| Eftsoons his hand dropped he. | |
| |
| He holds him with his glittering eye - | |
| The Wedding-Guest stood still, | |
| And listens like a three years' child: | 15 |
| The Mariner hath his will. | |
| |
| The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone: | |
| He cannot choose but hear; | |
| And thus spake on that ancient man, | |
| The bright-eyed Mariner. | 20 |
| |
| "The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, | |
| Merrily did we drop | |
| Below the kirk, below the hill, | |
| Below the lighthouse top. | |
| |
| The sun came up upon the left, | 25 |
| 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 -" | 30 |
| 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 | 35 |
| The merry minstrelsy. | |
| |
| The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, | |
| Yet he cannot choose but hear; | |
| And thus spake on that ancient man, | |
| The bright-eyed Mariner. | 40 |
| |
| "And now the storm-blast came, and he | |
| Was tyrannous and strong: | |
| He struck with his o'ertaking wings, | |
| And chased us south along. | |
| |
| With sloping masts and dipping prow, | 45 |
| As who pursued with yell and blow | |
| Still treads the shadow of his foe, | |
| And foward bends his head, | |
| The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, | |
| And southward aye we fled. | 50 |
| |
| 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 | 55 |
| 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: | 60 |
| 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 it had been a Christian soul, | 65 |
| 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! | 70 |
| |
| And a good south wind sprung up behind; | |
| The Albatross did follow, | |
| And every day, for food or play, | |
| Came to the mariner's hollo! | |
| |
| In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, | 75 |
| It perched for vespers nine; | |
| Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, | |
| Glimmered the white moonshine." | |
| |
| `God save thee, ancient Mariner, | |
| From the fiends that plague thee thus! - | 80 |
| Why look'st thou so?' -"With my crossbow | |
| I shot the Albatross." | |
| |
| |
| Part II | |
| |
| "The sun now rose upon the right: | |
| Out of the sea came he, | 85 |
| 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 | 90 |
| Came to the mariners' hollo! | |
| |
| And I had done a hellish thing, | |
| And it would work 'em woe: | |
| For all averred, I had killed the bird | |
| That made the breeze to blow. | 95 |
| 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 | 100 |
| 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; | 105 |
| We were the first that ever burst | |
| Into that silent sea. | |
| |
| Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, | |
| 'Twas sad as sad could be; | |
| And we did speak only to break | 110 |
| 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. | 115 |
| |
| 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, | 120 |
| 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! | 125 |
| 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, | 130 |
| 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. | 135 |
| |
| 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 | 140 |
| Had I from old and young! | |
| Instead of the cross, the Albatross | |
| About my neck was hung." | |
| |
| |
| Part III | |
| |
| "There passed a weary time. Each throat | 145 |
| 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. | 150 |
| |
| 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! | 155 |
| 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 nor laugh nor wail; | 160 |
| 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: | 165 |
| 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; | 170 |
| 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 | 175 |
| 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!) | 180 |
| 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, | 185 |
| 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? | 190 |
| 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 Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, | 195 |
| 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. | 200 |
| |
| 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! | 205 |
| 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 - | 210 |
| Till clomb 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, | 215 |
| 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, | 220 |
| 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 crossbow!" | 225 |
| |
| |
| Part IV | |
| |
| `I fear thee, ancient Mariner! | |
| I fear thy skinny hand! | |
| And thou art long, and lank, and brown, | |
| As is the ribbed sea-sand. | 230 |
| |
| I fear thee and thy glittering eye, | |
| And thy skinny hand, so brown.' - | |
| "Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! | |
| This body dropped not down. | |
| |
| Alone, alone, all, all alone, | 235 |
| 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; | 240 |
| 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, | 245 |
| 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. | 250 |
| |
| I closed my lids, and kept them close, | |
| And the balls like pulses beat; | |
| Forthe 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. | 255 |
| |
| 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 | 260 |
| A spirit from on high; | |
| But oh! more horrible than that | |
| Is the curse in a dead man's eye! | |
| Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, | |
| And yet I could not die. | 265 |
| |
| 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, | 270 |
| 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 | 275 |
| 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 | 280 |
| 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 | 285 |
| 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. | 290 |
| |
| The selfsame moment I could pray; | |
| And from my neck so free | |
| The Albatross fell off, and sank | |
| Like lead into the sea." | |
| |
| |
| Part V | 295 |
| |
| "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. | 300 |
| |
| 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, | 305 |
| 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 | 310 |
| 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, | 315 |
| 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, | 320 |
| 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. | 325 |
| |
| 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. | 330 |
| |
| 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, | 335 |
| 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; | 340 |
| The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, | |
| 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 | 345 |
| 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! | 350 |
| '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; | 355 |
| 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, | 360 |
| Now mixed, now one by one. | |
| |
| Sometimes a-dropping from the sky | |
| I heard the skylark sing; | |
| Sometimes all little birds that are, | |
| How they seemed to fill the sea and air | 365 |
| 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. | 370 |
| |
| 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 | 375 |
| 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. | 380 |
| |
| 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, | 385 |
| 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 - | 390 |
| 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, | 395 |
| 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 | 400 |
| 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. | 405 |
| |
| 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, | 410 |
| As soft as honey-dew: | |
| Quoth he, `The man hath penance done, | |
| And penance more will do.' | |
| |
| |
| Part VI | |
| |
| First Voice | 415 |
| |
| 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 | 420 |
| |
| 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; | 425 |
| 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, | 430 |
| Without or wave or wind? | |
| |
| Second Voice | |
| |
| The air is cut away before, | |
| And closes from behind. | |
| |
| Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! | 435 |
| 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: | 440 |
| '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, | 445 |
| 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. | 450 |
| |
| And now this spell was snapped: 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 | 455 |
| 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. | 460 |
| |
| 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 | 465 |
| 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: | 470 |
| Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze - | |
| On me alone it blew. | |
| |
| Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed | |
| The lighthouse top I see? | |
| Is this the hill? is this the kirk? | 475 |
| Is this mine own country? | |
| |
| 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. | 480 |
| |
| 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, | 485 |
| 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, | 490 |
| 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 - | 495 |
| 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. | 500 |
| |
| 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, | 505 |
| 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; | 510 |
| 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 | 515 |
| 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. | 520 |
| He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away | |
| The Albatross's blood." | |
| |
| |
| Part VII | |
| |
| "This Hermit good lives in that wood | |
| Which slopes down to the sea. | 525 |
| How loudly his sweet voice he rears! | |
| He loves to talk with marineers | |
| That come from a far country. | |
| |
| He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve - | |
| He hath a cushion plump: | 530 |
| 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, | 535 |
| 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! | 540 |
| 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, | 545 |
| 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 afeared' -`Push on, push on!' | 550 |
| 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. | 555 |
| |
| 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, | 560 |
| 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. | 565 |
| |
| 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 | 570 |
| 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, | 575 |
| 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 country, | 580 |
| 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. | 585 |
| `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; | 590 |
| 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. | 595 |
| |
| 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. | 600 |
| |
| 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, | 605 |
| 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. | 610 |
| |
| 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, | 615 |
| 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 | 620 |
| 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; | 625 |
| 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 | 630 |
| 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. | 635 |