For all averred, I had killed the bird Ah, wretch! said they, the bird to slay Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, Then all averred, I had killed the bird 'T was right, said they, such birds to slay, The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, We were the first that ever burst Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'T was sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break mariner for killing the bird of good luck. But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime. The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward even till it reaches the line. The ship bath been suddenly becalmed. 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. Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And the a batross begins to be avenged. The very deep did rot: O Christ! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs About, about, in reel and rout, A spirit had And some in dreams assured were followed them, one of Of the spirit that plagued us so; the invisible inhabitants Nine fathom deep he had followed us of this plan et, neither From the land of mist and snow. departed souls nor angels concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan, Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or ele ment without one or more. And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks PART III. round his neck. The an cient mar THERE passed a weary time. Each throat How glazed each weary eye, iner behold. When, looking westward, I beheld eth a sign in the element A something in the sky. afar of. At first it seemed a little speck, It moved, and moved, and took at last A speck, a mist, a shape I wist, With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Through utter drought all dumb we stood; With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, See! see! I cried, she tacks no more! The western wave was all a-flame, When that strange shape drove suddenly And straight the sun was flecked with b: rs, (Heaven's mother send us grace!) At its near. A flash of joy. And horror follows; for can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide ? It seemeth him but the ske.eton of a ship. are seen as As if through a dungeon-grate he peer a Alas! thought I, and my heart beat loud, Are those her sails that glance in the sun And its ribs Are those her ribs through which the sun face of the setting sun. And is that woman all her crew? The spectre Woman and Is that a Death? and are there two? her death mate, and Is Death that woman's mate ? no other, on board the skeleton ship. like crew. Her lips were red, her looks were free, Like vessel, Her locks were yellow as gold; Life-in Death and The naked hulk alongside came, diced for the ship's crew; "The game is done! I've won, I 've won! Quoth she, and whistles thrice. and she (the !atter) win neth the ancient mariner. The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out ; within the At one stride comes the dark; No twilight courts of the sun. With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea At the rising We listened and looked sideways up! The stars were dim, and thick the night The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white; From the sails the dew did drip ; The horned moon, with one bright star One after one, by the star-dogged moon, Each turned his face, with a ghastly pang, Four times fifty living men The souls did from their bodies fly, One after another, His shipmates drop down dead, But Life-inDeath begins her work on the ancient mariner. 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! * "I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown." For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth. It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey to Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the autumn of 1797, that this poem was planned, and in part composed. The wedding-guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him; |