Message Bookmarked
Bookmark Removed
by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Poll Results
| Option | Votes |
| He hath a cushion plump : | 1 |
| Out of the sea came he ! | 1 |
| The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship. | 1 |
| Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner. | 1 |
| Like music on my heart. | 1 |
| Yet it felt like a welcoming. | 1 |
| On me alone it blew. | 1 |
| `But why drives on that ship so fast, | 0 |
| SECOND VOICE | 0 |
| What is the ocean doing ?' | 0 |
| What makes that ship drive on so fast ? | 0 |
| Thy soft response renewing-- | 0 |
| `But tell me, tell me ! speak again, | 0 |
| FIRST VOICE | 0 |
| `Still as a slave before his lord, | 0 |
| The ocean hath no blast ; | 0 |
| The Mariner hath been cast into a trance ; for the angelic power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human | 0 |
| The Polar Spirit's fellow-dæmons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong ; and two of them rel | 0 |
| She looketh down on him.' | 0 |
| See, brother, see ! how graciously | 0 |
| For she guides him smooth or grim. | 0 |
| If he may know which way to go ; | 0 |
| FIRST VOICE | 0 |
| His great bright eye most silently | 0 |
| Up to the Moon is cast-- | 0 |
| PART VI | 0 |
| `Is it he ?' quoth one, `Is this the man ? | 0 |
| Two voices in the air. | 0 |
| I heard and in my soul discerned | 0 |
| But ere my living life returned, | 0 |
| I have not to declare ; | 0 |
| How long in that same fit I lay, | 0 |
| And I fell down in a swound. | 0 |
| It flung the blood into my head, | 0 |
| She made a sudden bound : | 0 |
| By him who died on cross, | 0 |
| With his cruel bow he laid full low | 0 |
| And penance more will do.' | 0 |
| Quoth he, `The man hath penance done, | 0 |
| As soft as honey-dew : | 0 |
| The other was a softer voice, | 0 |
| Who shot him with his bow.' | 0 |
| He loved the bird that loved the man | 0 |
| In the land of mist and snow, | 0 |
| The spirit who bideth by himself | 0 |
| The harmless Albatross. | 0 |
| Then like a pawing horse let go, | 0 |
| Without or wave or wind ?' | 0 |
| SECOND VOICE | 0 |
| Doth close behind him tread. | 0 |
| Because he knows, a frightful fiend | 0 |
| And turns no more his head ; | 0 |
| And having once turned round walks on, | 0 |
| Doth walk in fear and dread, | 0 |
| Like one, that on a lonesome road | 0 |
| Of what had else been seen-- | 0 |
| And looked far forth, yet little saw | 0 |
| But soon there breathed a wind on me, | 0 |
| Nor sound nor motion made : | 0 |
| Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-- | 0 |
| Yet she sailed softly too : | 0 |
| Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, | 0 |
| It mingled strangely with my fears, | 0 |
| Like a meadow-gale of spring-- | 0 |
| It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek | 0 |
| In ripple or in shade. | 0 |
| Its path was not upon the sea, | 0 |
| I viewed the ocean green, | 0 |
| And now this spell was snapt : once more | 0 |
| The curse is finally expiated. | 0 |
| As in a gentle weather : | 0 |
| I woke, and we were sailing on | 0 |
| The supernatural motion is retarded ; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew. | 0 |
| When the Mariner's trance is abated.' | 0 |
| For slow and slow that ship will go, | 0 |
| Or we shall be belated : | 0 |
| Fly, brother, fly ! more high, more high ! | 0 |
| And closes from behind. | 0 |
| 'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ; | 0 |
| The dead men stood together. | 0 |
| Nor turn them up to pray. | 0 |
| I could not draw my eyes from theirs, | 0 |
| Had never passed away : | 0 |
| The pang, the curse, with which they died, | 0 |
| That in the Moon did glitter. | 0 |
| All fixed on me their stony eyes, | 0 |
| For a charnel-dungeon fitter : | 0 |
| All stood together on the deck, | 0 |
| `The air is cut away before, | 0 |
| Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest ! | 0 |
| The helmsman steered, the ship moved on ; | 0 |
| To have seen those dead men rise. | 0 |
| It had been strange, even in a dream, | 0 |
| Nor spake, nor moved their eyes ; | 0 |
| They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose, | 0 |
| The dead men gave a groan. | 0 |
| Beneath the lightning and the Moon | 0 |
| Yet now the ship moved on ! | 0 |
| The loud wind never reached the ship, | 0 |
| Yet never a breeze up-blew ; | 0 |
| The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, | 0 |
| `I fear thee, ancient Mariner !' | 0 |
| But not by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent d | 0 |
| But he said nought to me. | 0 |
| The body and I pulled at one rope, | 0 |
| Stood by me, knee to knee : | 0 |
| The body of my brother's son | 0 |
| We were a ghastly crew. | 0 |
| They raised their limbs like lifeless tools-- | 0 |
| Where they were wont to do ; | 0 |
| The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on ; | 0 |
| A river steep and wide. | 0 |
| And a hundred fire-flags sheen, | 0 |
| The upper air burst into life ! | 0 |
| That were so thin and sere. | 0 |
| But with its sound it shook the sails, | 0 |
| It did not come anear ; | 0 |
| And soon I heard a roaring wind : | 0 |
| He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element. | 0 |
| And was a blesséd ghost. | 0 |
| I thought that I had died in sleep, | 0 |
| To and fro they were hurried about ! | 0 |
| And to and fro, and in and out, | 0 |
| The lightning fell with never a jag, | 0 |
| Like waters shot from some high crag, | 0 |
| The Moon was at its side : | 0 |
| The thick black cloud was cleft, and still | 0 |
| The Moon was at its edge. | 0 |
| And the rain poured down from one black cloud ; | 0 |
| And the sails did sigh like sedge ; | 0 |
| And the coming wind did roar more loud, | 0 |
| The wan stars danced between. | 0 |
| I was so light--almost | 0 |
| With a short uneasy motion. | 0 |
| The lonesome Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but s | 0 |
| Moved onward from beneath. | 0 |
| Slowly and smoothly went the ship, | 0 |
| Yet never a breeze did breathe : | 0 |
| Till noon we quietly sailed on, | 0 |
| [Additional stanzas, dropped after the first edition.] | 0 |
| Singeth a quiet tune. | 0 |
| That to the sleeping woods all night | 0 |
| In the leafy month of June, | 0 |
| Under the keel nine fathom deep, | 0 |
| From the land of mist and snow, | 0 |
| Backwards and forwards half her length | 0 |
| With a short uneasy motion-- | 0 |
| But in a minute she 'gan stir, | 0 |
| Had fixed her to the ocean : | 0 |
| The Sun, right up above the mast, | 0 |
| And the ship stood still also. | 0 |
| The sails at noon left off their tune, | 0 |
| That made the ship to go. | 0 |
| The spirit slid : and it was he | 0 |
| A noise like of a hidden brook | 0 |
| A pleasant noise till noon, | 0 |
| Slowly the sounds came back again, | 0 |
| Then darted to the Sun ; | 0 |
| Around, around, flew each sweet sound, | 0 |
| And from their bodies passed. | 0 |
| Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, | 0 |
| And clustered round the mast ; | 0 |
| For when it dawned--they dropped their arms, | 0 |
| But a troop of spirits blest : | 0 |
| Which to their corses came again, | 0 |
| Now mixed, now one by one. | 0 |
| Sometimes a-dropping from the sky | 0 |
| It ceased ; yet still the sails made on | 0 |
| That makes the heavens be mute. | 0 |
| And now it is an angel's song, | 0 |
| Now like a lonely flute ; | 0 |
| And now 'twas like all instruments, | 0 |
| With their sweet jargoning ! | 0 |
| How they seemed to fill the sea and air | 0 |
| Sometimes all little birds that are, | 0 |
| I heard the sky-lark sing ; | 0 |
| 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain, | 0 |
| That agony returns : | 0 |
| And scarcely he could stand. | 0 |
| The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, | 0 |
| I stood on the firm land ! | 0 |
| And now, all in my own countree, | 0 |
| The Devil knows how to row.' | 0 |
| `Ha ! ha !' quoth he, `full plain I see, | 0 |
| His eyes went to and fro. | 0 |
| Laughed loud and long, and all the while | 0 |
| The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him ; and the penance of life falls on him. | 0 |
| `O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man !' | 0 |
| The Hermit crossed his brow. | 0 |
| Since then, at an uncertain hour, | 0 |
| And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land ; | 0 |
| And then it left me free. | 0 |
| Which forced me to begin my tale ; | 0 |
| With a woful agony, | 0 |
| Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched | 0 |
| What manner of man art thou ?' | 0 |
| `Say quick,' quoth he, `I bid thee say-- | 0 |
| Who now doth crazy go, | 0 |
| I took the oars : the Pilot's boy, | 0 |
| And prayed where he did sit. | 0 |
| Which sky and ocean smote, | 0 |
| Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, | 0 |
| The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat. | 0 |
| The ship went down like lead. | 0 |
| It reached the ship, it split the bay ; | 0 |
| Still louder and more dread : | 0 |
| Under the water it rumbled on, | 0 |
| The ship suddenly sinketh. | 0 |
| Like one that hath been seven days drowned | 0 |
| My body lay afloat ; | 0 |
| But swift as dreams, myself I found | 0 |
| The holy Hermit raised his eyes, | 0 |
| And fell down in a fit ; | 0 |
| I moved my lips--the Pilot shrieked | 0 |
| Was telling of the sound. | 0 |
| And all was still, save that the hill | 0 |
| The boat spun round and round ; | 0 |
| Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, | 0 |
| Within the Pilot's boat. | 0 |
| And straight a sound was heard. | 0 |
| He rose the morrow morn. | 0 |
| Both man and bird and beast. | 0 |
| He prayeth well, who loveth well | 0 |
| To thee, thou Wedding-Guest ! | 0 |
| Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell | 0 |
| And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth. | 0 |
| And youths and maidens gay ! | 0 |
| Old men, and babes, and loving friends | 0 |
| While each to his great Father bends, | 0 |
| He prayeth best, who loveth best | 0 |
| All things both great and small ; | 0 |
| For the dear God who loveth us, | 0 |
| A sadder and a wiser man, | 0 |
| And is of sense forlorn : | 0 |
| He went like one that hath been stunned, | 0 |
| Turned from the bridegroom's door. | 0 |
| Is gone : and now the Wedding-Guest | 0 |
| Whose beard with age is hoar, | 0 |
| The Mariner, whose eye is bright, | 0 |
| He made and loveth all. | 0 |
| And all together pray, | 0 |
| To walk together to the kirk, | 0 |
| With a goodly company !-- | 0 |
| The wedding-guests are there : | 0 |
| What loud uproar bursts from that door ! | 0 |
| To him my tale I teach. | 0 |
| I know the man that must hear me : | 0 |
| That moment that his face I see, | 0 |
| I have strange power of speech ; | 0 |
| I pass, like night, from land to land ; | 0 |
| This heart within me burns. | 0 |
| But in the garden-bower the bride | 0 |
| And bride-maids singing are : | 0 |
| And hark the little vesper bell, | 0 |
| To walk together to the kirk | 0 |
| 'Tis sweeter far to me, | 0 |
| O sweeter than the marriage-feast, | 0 |
| Scarce seeméd there to be. | 0 |
| So lonely 'twas, that God himself | 0 |
| Alone on a wide wide sea : | 0 |
| O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been | 0 |
| Which biddeth me to prayer ! | 0 |
| And till my ghastly tale is told, | 0 |
| The boat came close beneath the ship, | 0 |
| And I saw a boat appear. | 0 |
| A man all light, a seraph-man, | 0 |
| And, by the holy rood ! | 0 |
| Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, | 0 |
| Oh, Christ ! what saw I there ! | 0 |
| I turned my eyes upon the deck-- | 0 |
| Those crimson shadows were : | 0 |
| A little distance from the prow | 0 |
| And appear in their own forms of light. | 0 |
| On every corse there stood. | 0 |
| This seraph-band, each waved his hand : | 0 |
| It was a heavenly sight ! | 0 |
| My head was turned perforce away | 0 |
| I heard the Pilot's cheer ; | 0 |
| But soon I heard the dash of oars, | 0 |
| No voice ; but oh ! the silence sank | 0 |
| No voice did they impart-- | 0 |
| This seraph-band, each waved his hand, | 0 |
| Each one a lovely light ; | 0 |
| They stood as signals to the land, | 0 |
| In crimson colours came. | 0 |
| Full many shapes, that shadows were, | 0 |
| Till rising from the same, | 0 |
| Or let me sleep alway. | 0 |
| O let me be awake, my God ! | 0 |
| And I with sobs did pray-- | 0 |
| We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, | 0 |
| Is this mine own countree ? | 0 |
| Is this the hill ? is this the kirk ? | 0 |
| The light-house top I see ? | 0 |
| Oh ! dream of joy ! is this indeed | 0 |
| The harbour-bay was clear as glass, | 0 |
| So smoothly it was strewn ! | 0 |
| And on the bay the moonlight lay, | 0 |
| And the bay was white with silent light, | 0 |
| The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, | 0 |
| The steady weathercock. | 0 |
| The moonlight steeped in silentness | 0 |
| That stands above the rock : | 0 |
| The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, | 0 |
| [Additional stanzas, dropped after the first edition.] | 0 |
| And the shadow of the Moon. | 0 |
| And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country. | 0 |
| But I nor spake nor stirred ; | 0 |
| I never saw aught like to them, | 0 |
| How thin they are and sere ! | 0 |
| The planks looked warped ! and see those sails, | 0 |
| `And they answered not our cheer ! | 0 |
| `Strange, by my faith !' the Hermit said-- | 0 |
| Approacheth the ship with wonder. | 0 |
| That signal made but now ?' | 0 |
| Where are those lights so many and fair, | 0 |
| Unless perchance it were | 0 |
| Brown skeletons of leaves that lag | 0 |
| My forest-brook along ; | 0 |
| The boat came closer to the ship, | 0 |
| Said the Hermit cheerily. | 0 |
| I am a-feared'--`Push on, push on !' | 0 |
| (The Pilot made reply) | 0 |
| `Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look-- | 0 |
| That eats the she-wolf's young.' | 0 |
| And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, | 0 |
| When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, | 0 |
| `Why, this is strange, I trow ! | 0 |
| The skiff-boat neared : I heard them talk, | 0 |
| The rotted old oak-stump. | 0 |
| That he makes in the wood. | 0 |
| He singeth loud his godly hymns | 0 |
| It is the Hermit good ! | 0 |
| I saw a third--I heard his voice : | 0 |
| The dead men could not blast. | 0 |
| Dear Lord in Heaven ! it was a joy | 0 |
| I heard them coming fast : | 0 |
| The Pilot and the Pilot's boy, | 0 |
| He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away | 0 |
| The Albatross's blood. | 0 |
| PART VII | 0 |
| It is the moss that wholly hides | 0 |
| He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve-- | 0 |
| That come from a far countree. | 0 |
| He loves to talk with marineres | 0 |
| How loudly his sweet voice he rears ! | 0 |
| Which slopes down to the sea. | 0 |
| This Hermit good lives in that wood | 0 |
| The Hermit of the Wood, | 0 |
| [Additional stanza, dropped after the first edition.] | 0 |
| I moved, and could not feel my limbs : | 0 |
| Upon a painted ocean. | 0 |
| The ship hath been suddenly becalmed. | 0 |
| Into that silent sea. | 0 |
| We were the first that ever burst | 0 |
| The furrow followed free ; | 0 |
| The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, | 0 |
| The fair breeze continues ; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line. | 0 |
| That bring the fog and mist. | 0 |
| 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, | 0 |
| Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, | 0 |
| 'Twas sad as sad could be ; | 0 |
| And we did speak only to break | 0 |
| As idle as a painted ship | 0 |
| We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; | 0 |
| Day after day, day after day, | 0 |
| No bigger than the Moon. | 0 |
| Right up above the mast did stand, | 0 |
| The bloody Sun, at noon, | 0 |
| All in a hot and copper sky, | 0 |
| The silence of the sea ! | 0 |
| That brought the fog and mist. | 0 |
| Then all averred, I had killed the bird | 0 |
| The glorious Sun uprist : | 0 |
| But no sweet bird did follow, | 0 |
| And the good south wind still blew behind, | 0 |
| Went down into the sea. | 0 |
| Still hid in mist, and on the left | 0 |
| Out of the sea came he, | 0 |
| The Sun now rose upon the right : | 0 |
| PART II | 0 |
| I shot the ALBATROSS. | 0 |
| Nor any day for food or play | 0 |
| Came to the mariners' hollo ! | 0 |
| His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck. | 0 |
| Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, | 0 |
| But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime. | 0 |
| That made the breeze to blow ! | 0 |
| Ah wretch ! said they, the bird to slay, | 0 |
| That made the breeze to blow. | 0 |
| For all averred, I had killed the bird | 0 |
| And it would work 'em woe : | 0 |
| And I had done an hellish thing, | 0 |
| Why look'st thou so ?'--With my cross-bow | 0 |
| It plunged and tacked and veered. | 0 |
| A weary time ! a weary time ! | 0 |
| Was parched, and glazed each eye. | 0 |
| There passed a weary time. Each throat | 0 |
| PART III | 0 |
| About my neck was hung. | 0 |
| Instead of the cross, the Albatross | 0 |
| Had I from old and young ! | 0 |
| Ah ! well a-day ! what evil looks | 0 |
| How glazed each weary eye, | 0 |
| When looking westward, I beheld | 0 |
| A something in the sky. | 0 |
| As if it dodged a water-sprite, | 0 |
| And still it neared and neared : | 0 |
| A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist ! | 0 |
| A certain shape, I wist. | 0 |
| It moved and moved, and took at last | 0 |
| And then it seemed a mist ; | 0 |
| At first it seemed a little speck, | 0 |
| The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off. | 0 |
| The shipmates, in their sore distress, would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner : in sign whereof they ha | 0 |
| We had been choked with soot. | 0 |
| We could not speak, no more than if | 0 |
| Upon the slimy sea. | 0 |
| Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs | 0 |
| That ever this should be ! | 0 |
| The very deep did rot : O Christ ! | 0 |
| Nor any drop to drink. | 0 |
| Water, water, every where, | 0 |
| And all the boards did shrink ; | 0 |
| Water, water, every where, | 0 |
| About, about, in reel and rout | 0 |
| The death-fires danced at night ; | 0 |
| The water, like a witch's oils, | 0 |
| Was withered at the root ; | 0 |
| And every tongue, through utter drought, | 0 |
| From the land of mist and snow. | 0 |
| Nine fathom deep he had followed us | 0 |
| Of the Spirit that plagued us so ; | 0 |
| And some in dreams assuréd were | 0 |
| A Spirit had followed them ; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels ; concer | 0 |
| Burnt green, and blue and white. | 0 |
| And the Albatross begins to be avenged. | 0 |
| From the fiends, that plague thee thus !-- | 0 |
| The ship driven by a storm toward the south pole. | 0 |
| Till over the mast at noon--' | 0 |
| Higher and higher every day, | 0 |
| Went down into the sea. | 0 |
| And he shone bright, and on the right | 0 |
| The Sun came up upon the left, | 0 |
| The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line. | 0 |
| Below the lighthouse top. | 0 |
| Below the kirk, below the hill, | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, | 0 |
| For he heard the loud bassoon. | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music ; but the Mariner continueth his tale. | 0 |
| The bright-eyed Mariner. | 0 |
| And thus spake on that ancient man, | 0 |
| Yet he cannot choose but hear ; | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, | 0 |
| The merry minstrelsy. | 0 |
| Nodding their heads before her goes | 0 |
| Red as a rose is she ; | 0 |
| The bride hath paced into the hall, | 0 |
| Merrily did we drop | 0 |
| `The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, | 0 |
| The bright-eyed Mariner. | 0 |
| He holds him with his skinny hand, | 0 |
| May'st hear the merry din.' | 0 |
| The guests are met, the feast is set : | 0 |
| And I am next of kin ; | 0 |
| The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide, | 0 |
| Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ? | 0 |
| `By thy long beard and glittering eye, | 0 |
| And he stoppeth one of three. | 0 |
| `There was a ship,' quoth he. | 0 |
| `Hold off ! unhand me, grey-beard loon !' | 0 |
| Eftsoons his hand dropt he. | 0 |
| And thus spake on that ancient man, | 0 |
| He cannot choose but hear ; | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone : | 0 |
| The Mariner hath his will. | 0 |
| And listens like a three years' child : | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest stood still, | 0 |
| He holds him with his glittering eye-- | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale. | 0 |
| It is an ancient Mariner, | 0 |
| `God save thee, ancient Mariner ! | 0 |
| The ice did split with a thunder-fit ; | 0 |
| And round and round it flew. | 0 |
| It ate the food it ne'er had eat, | 0 |
| We hailed it in God's name. | 0 |
| As if it had been a Christian soul, | 0 |
| Thorough the fog it came ; | 0 |
| At length did cross an Albatross, | 0 |
| Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality. | 0 |
| The helmsman steered us through ! | 0 |
| And lo ! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floa | 0 |
| And a good south wind sprung up behind ; | 0 |
| The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen. | 0 |
| Glimmered the white Moon-shine.' | 0 |
| Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, | 0 |
| It perched for vespers nine ; | 0 |
| In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, | 0 |
| Came to the mariner's hollo ! | 0 |
| And every day, for food or play, | 0 |
| The Albatross did follow, | 0 |
| Like noises in a swound ! | 0 |
| It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, | 0 |
| The ice was all around : | 0 |
| The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, | 0 |
| And forward bends his head, | 0 |
| Still treads the shadow of his foe, | 0 |
| As who pursued with yell and blow | 0 |
| With sloping masts and dipping prow, | 0 |
| And chased us south along. | 0 |
| He struck with his o'ertaking wings, | 0 |
| Was tyrannous and strong : | 0 |
| The southward aye we fled. | 0 |
| And now there came both mist and snow, | 0 |
| And it grew wondrous cold : | 0 |
| The ice was here, the ice was there, | 0 |
| The ice was all between. | 0 |
| Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-- | 0 |
| Did send a dismal sheen : | 0 |
| And through the drifts the snowy clifts | 0 |
| The land of ice, and of fearful sounds where no living thing was to be seen. | 0 |
| As green as emerald. | 0 |
| And ice, mast-high, came floating by, | 0 |
| `And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he | 0 |
| At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship ; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst | 0 |
| Her beams bemocked the sultry main, | 0 |
| Had never passed away. | 0 |
| The look with which they looked on me | 0 |
| Nor rot nor reek did they : | 0 |
| The cold sweat melted from their limbs, | 0 |
| But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men. | 0 |
| And the dead were at my feet. | 0 |
| Lay like a load on my weary eye, | 0 |
| For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky | 0 |
| An orphan's curse would drag to hell | 0 |
| A spirit from on high ; | 0 |
| But oh ! more horrible than that | 0 |
| And a star or two beside-- | 0 |
| Softly she was going up, | 0 |
| And no where did abide : | 0 |
| The moving Moon went up the sky, | 0 |
| In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still mov | 0 |
| And yet I could not die. | 0 |
| Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, | 0 |
| Is the curse in a dead man's eye ! | 0 |
| And the balls like pulses beat ; | 0 |
| I closed my lids, and kept them close, | 0 |
| My heart as dry as dust. | 0 |
| The many men, so beautiful ! | 0 |
| He despiseth the creatures of the calm, | 0 |
| My soul in agony. | 0 |
| And never a saint took pity on | 0 |
| Alone on a wide wide sea ! | 0 |
| Alone, alone, all, all alone, | 0 |
| But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance. | 0 |
| This body dropt not down. | 0 |
| And they all dead did lie : | 0 |
| And a thousand thousand slimy things | 0 |
| Lived on ; and so did I. | 0 |
| A wicked whisper came, and made | 0 |
| But or ever a prayer had gusht, | 0 |
| I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ; | 0 |
| And there the dead men lay. | 0 |
| I looked upon the rotting deck, | 0 |
| And drew my eyes away ; | 0 |
| I looked upon the rotting sea, | 0 |
| And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead. | 0 |
| Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest ! | 0 |
| And still my body drank. | 0 |
| Beloved from pole to pole ! | 0 |
| Oh sleep ! it is a gentle thing, | 0 |
| PART V | 0 |
| Like lead into the sea. | 0 |
| The Albatross fell off, and sank | 0 |
| And from my neck so free | 0 |
| The self-same moment I could pray ; | 0 |
| The spell begins to break. | 0 |
| To Mary Queen the praise be given ! | 0 |
| She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, | 0 |
| That slid into my soul. | 0 |
| Sure I had drunken in my dreams, | 0 |
| My garments all were dank ; | 0 |
| My lips were wet, my throat was cold, | 0 |
| And when I awoke, it rained. | 0 |
| I dreamt that they were filled with dew ; | 0 |
| That had so long remained, | 0 |
| The silly buckets on the deck, | 0 |
| By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain. | 0 |
| And I blessed them unaware. | 0 |
| Sure my kind saint took pity on me, | 0 |
| And I blessed them unaware : | 0 |
| And when they reared, the elfish light | 0 |
| They moved in tracks of shining white, | 0 |
| I watched the water-snakes : | 0 |
| Beyond the shadow of the ship, | 0 |
| By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm. | 0 |
| A still and awful red. | 0 |
| The charméd water burnt alway | 0 |
| But where the ship's huge shadow lay, | 0 |
| Fell off in hoary flakes. | 0 |
| Within the shadow of the ship | 0 |
| I watched their rich attire : | 0 |
| A spring of love gushed from my heart, | 0 |
| Their beauty might declare : | 0 |
| O happy living things ! no tongue | 0 |
| He blesseth them in his heart. | 0 |
| Their beauty and their happiness. | 0 |
| Was a flash of golden fire. | 0 |
| They coiled and swam ; and every track | 0 |
| Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, | 0 |
| Like April hoar-frost spread ; | 0 |
| And thy skinny hand, so brown.'-- | 0 |
| The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she, | 0 |
| Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, | 0 |
| How fast she nears and nears ! | 0 |
| Alas ! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) | 0 |
| And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. | 0 |
| With broad and burning face. | 0 |
| As if through a dungeon-grate he peered | 0 |
| (Heaven's Mother send us grace !) | 0 |
| And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, | 0 |
| Like restless gossameres ? | 0 |
| And those her ribs through which the Sun | 0 |
| Did peer, as through a grate ? | 0 |
| Her skin was as white as leprosy, | 0 |
| Her locks were yellow as gold : | 0 |
| Her lips were red, her looks were free, | 0 |
| Like vessel, like crew ! | 0 |
| [first version of this stanza through the end of Part III] | 0 |
| Is DEATH that woman's mate ? | 0 |
| Is that a DEATH ? and are there two ? | 0 |
| And is that Woman all her crew ? | 0 |
| It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship. | 0 |
| Betwixt us and the Sun. | 0 |
| When that strange shape drove suddenly | 0 |
| Gramercy ! they for joy did grin, | 0 |
| Agape they heard me call : | 0 |
| With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, | 0 |
| A flash of joy ; | 0 |
| And cried, A sail ! a sail ! | 0 |
| I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, | 0 |
| Through utter drought all dumb we stood ! | 0 |
| We could nor laugh nor wail ; | 0 |
| And all at once their breath drew in, | 0 |
| As they were drinking all. | 0 |
| And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide ? | 0 |
| Rested the broad bright Sun ; | 0 |
| Almost upon the western wave | 0 |
| The day was well nigh done ! | 0 |
| The western wave was all a-flame. | 0 |
| She steadies with upright keel ! | 0 |
| Without a breeze, without a tide, | 0 |
| Hither to work us weal ; | 0 |
| See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more ! | 0 |
| With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, | 0 |
| I fear thee and thy glittering eye, | 0 |
| But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner. | 0 |
| They dropped down one by one. | 0 |
| With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, | 0 |
| (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) | 0 |
| Four times fifty living men, | 0 |
| His shipmates drop down dead. | 0 |
| And cursed me with his eye. | 0 |
| Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, | 0 |
| The souls did from their bodies fly,-- | 0 |
| They fled to bliss or woe ! | 0 |
| And every soul, it passed me by, | 0 |
| (Coleridge's note on above stanza) | 0 |
| As is the ribbed sea-sand. | 0 |
| And thou art long, and lank, and brown, | 0 |
| I fear thy skinny hand ! | 0 |
| `I fear thee, ancient Mariner ! | 0 |
| The Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him ; | 0 |
| PART IV | 0 |
| Like the whizz of my cross-bow ! | 0 |
| Too quick for groan or sigh, | 0 |
| One after one, by the star-dogged Moon, | 0 |
| One after another, | 0 |
| With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea, | 0 |
| At one stride comes the dark ; | 0 |
| The Sun's rim dips ; the stars rush out : | 0 |
| No twilight within the courts of the Sun. | 0 |
| Quoth she, and whistles thrice. | 0 |
| `The game is done ! I've won ! I've won !' | 0 |
| And the twain were casting dice ; | 0 |
| The naked hulk alongside came, | 0 |
| Off shot the spectre-bark. | 0 |
| At the rising of the Moon, | 0 |
| We listened and looked sideways up ! | 0 |
| Within the nether tip. | 0 |
| The hornéd Moon, with one bright star | 0 |
| Till clomb above the eastern bar | 0 |
| From the sails the dew did drip-- | 0 |
| The steerman's face by his lamp gleamed white ; | 0 |
| The stars were dim, and thick the night, | 0 |
| My life-blood seemed to sip ! | 0 |
| Fear at my heart, as at a cup, | 0 |
| Who thicks man's blood with cold. | 0 |
― YOUR ORGANS, Wednesday, 14 May 2008 04:48 (eighteen years ago)
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