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 |