He despiseth the creatures of the calm, And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead. And never a saint took pity on The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things I look'd upon the rotting sea, I look'd upon the rotting deck, I look'd to Heaven, and tried to pray; 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 cloud, 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 look'd on me 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, I saw that curse, The moving Moon went up the sky, And no where did abide : Softly she was going up, Her beams bemock'd the sultry main, But where the ship's huge shadow lay, A still and awful red. But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men. In his loneli ness and fixedness, he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country, and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival. By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm. Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watch'd the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, Within the shadow of the ship I watch'd their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track Their beauty and their happiness. He blesseth them in his heart. The spell begins to break. Was a flash of golden fire. O happy living things! no tongue A spring of love gusht from my heart, Sure my kind saint took pity on me, The self same moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea. THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER. PART THE FIFTH. Oh SLEEP! it is a gentle thing, Belov'd from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, 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. By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mari ner is refreshed with rain. He heareth sounds, and seeth I moved, and could not feel my limbs: I was so light-almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; strange sights But with its sound it shook the sails, and commo tions in the sky and the element. That were so thin and sere. The upper air burst into life! The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; And the rain pour'd 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: |