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1 And soon I heard a roaring wind :
The upper air burst into life!
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
rose, 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 boily and I pulled at one rope But he said nought to me.”86 I fear thee, ancient Mariner!". “ Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest !
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
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-tropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing ; Sometimes all little birds that are, How they seemed to fill the sea and ai With their sweet jargoning ! And now 'twas like all instruments, Now like a lovely fute ; 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 Singetha quiet tune. Till noon we quietly sailed on, Yet never a breeze did breathe : Slowly and smoothly went the ship, Moved onward from beneath. 1 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 motionBackwards and forwards half her lengt! 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.
"le heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.
The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on ;
3 But not by the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or middle air, but hy a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invo. eation of the guardian saint.
1 The lonesome Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedi. ence to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.
1 How long in that same fit I lay,
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more highı ! Or we shall be belated : For slow and slow that ship will go, When the Mariner's trance is abated.' 1 I woke, and we were sailing on As in a gentle weather: '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 fixell on me their stony eyes, 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. 2 And now this spell was snapt : 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 Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks
"• But tell me, tell me! speak again,
‘Still as a slave before his lord,
And turns no more his head ;
2. But wly drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind ?'
SECOND VOICE · The air is cut away before, And closes from behind.
! The Polar Spirit's fellow-demons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been accorded to the Polar Spirit, who returneth southward.
: The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could edure.
1 The supernatural motion is retarded ; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew.
3 The curse is finally expiated.
8 And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
2 A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were: • I turned my eyes upon the deck
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
The skiff-boat neared : I heard them
talk, Whiy, this is strange, I trow ! Where are those lights so many and
fair, That signal made but now ?' 'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit
said' And they answered not our cheer ! The planks look warped ! and see those
sails, How thin they are and sere ! 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, And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the shie-wolf's young.'
Dear Lord ! it hath a fiendish look '(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared.'— Push on, push on !' Said the Herinit 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. 8 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.
But soon I heard the dash of oars,
The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,
I saw a third-I heard his voice :
4 Stunned by that loud and dreadful
sound, Which sky and ocean smote,
1 The Termit of the Wood, ? Approacheth the ship with wonder. * The ship suddenly sinketh. • The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat.
1 The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, ? And appear in their own forms of light.
O Wedding-Guest ! this soul hath been
Farewell, farewell ! but this I tell
Like one that hath been seven days
drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat. 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 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 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 countree, I stood on the firm land ! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. 1. O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man! The Hermit crossed his brow. 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee sayWhat manner of man art thou?', Forthwith this frame of mine was
wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale ; And then it left me free. 2 Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns : and till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. 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, 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 bark the little vesper bell, Which biddeth me to prayer !
He went like one that hath been
1 The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him ; and the penance of life falls on him.
* And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land,
The first part of the following poem was writ. ten in the year one thousand seven hundred and ninety-seven, at Stowey, in the county of Somer. set. The second part, after my return from Germany, in the year one thousand eight hun. dred, at Keswick, Cumberland. Since the latter date, my poetic powers have been, till very lately, in a state of suspended animation. But as, in my very first conception of the tale, I had the whole present to my mind, with the wholeness, no less than with the liveliness of a vision; I trust that I shall be able to embody in verse the three parts yet to come, in the course of the present year. : ;
I have only to add, that the metre of the Christabel is not, properly speaking, irregular, though it may seem so from its being founded on a new principle: namely, that of counting in each line the accents, not the syllables. Though the latter may vary from seven to twelve, yet in each line the accents will be found
1 And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.
to be only four. Nevertheless this occasional variation in number of syllables is not introduced wantonly, or for the mere ends of convenience, but in correspondence with some tran. sition in the nature of the imagery or passion. (Froin Coleridge's Preface to the first edition.)
PART THE FIRST
'Tis the middle of night by the castle
clock, And the owls have awakened the crow
Sir Leoline, the Baron rich,
way. The lovely lady, Christabel, Whom her father loves so well, What makes her in the woods so late, A furlong from the castle gate? She had dreams all yesternight Of her own betrothed knight; And she in the midnight wood will pray For the weal of her lover that's far away. She stole along, she nothing spoke, The sighs she heaved were soft and low, And naught was green upon the oak But moss and rarest misletoe : She kneels beneath the huge oak tree, And in silence prayeth she. The lady sprang up suddenly, The lovely lady, Christabel ! It moaned as near, as near can be, But what it is she cannot tell.-On the other side it seems to be, Of the huge, broad-breasted, old oak
The night is chill; the forest bare;
What sees she there? There she sees a damsel bright, Drest in a silken robe of white, That shadowy in the moonlight shone : The neck that made the white robe
wan, Her stately neck, and arms were bare ; Her blue-veived feet unsandald were, And wildly glittered here and there The gems entangled in her hair. I guess, 'twas frightful there to see A lady so richly clad as sheBeautiful exceedingly! Mary mother, save me now! (Said Christabel) And who art thou ? The lady strange made answer meet, And her voice was faint and sweet :Have pity on my sore distress, I scarce can speak for weariness : Stretch forth thy hand, and have no
fear! Said Christabel, How camest thou here? And the lady, whose voice was faint and
sweet, Did thus pursue her answer meet: My sire is of a noble line, And my name is Geraldine : Five warriors seized me yestermorn, Me, even me, a maid forlorn : They choked my cries with force and
fright, And tied me on a palfrey white. The palfrey was as fleet as wind, And they rode furiously behind. They spurred amain, their steeds were
white: And once we crossed the shade of night, As sure as Heaven shall rescue me, I have no thought what men they bo; Nor do I know how long it is