'I fear thee, ancient
Mariner!
I fear thy skinny
hand!
And thou art long,
and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed
sea-sand.
I fear thee and
thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny
hand, so brown.'--
Fear not, fear
not, thou Wedding-Guest!
This body dropt
not down.
Alone, alone, all,
all alone,
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:
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,
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.
I closed my lids,
and kept them close,
And the balls like
pulses beat;
For the 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.
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
A spirit from on
high;
But oh! more horrible
than that
Is the curse in
a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven
nights saw that curse,
And yet I could
not die.
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,
Like April hoar-frost
spread;
But where the ship's
huge shadow lay,
The charm'ed water
burnt alway
A still and awful
red.
Beyond the shadow
of the ship,
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
I watched their
rich attire:
Blue, glossy green,
and velvet black,
Then coiled and
swam; and every track
Was a flash of
golden fire.
O happy living things!
no tongue
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.
The self-same moment
I could pray;
And from my neck
so free
The Albatross fell
off, and sank
Like lead into
the sea.
_________________
Five
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.
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,
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
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a bless'ed ghost.
And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
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,
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.
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.
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,
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;
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
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!
'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;
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,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
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.
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
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.
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,
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--
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,
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
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.
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,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.'