A spirit had follow ed them; Water, water, every where, The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs About, about, in reel and rout And some in dreams assured were Of the spirit that plagued us so; One of the Nine fathom deep he had followed us invisible inhabitants From the land of mist and snow. of this planet, neither de parted 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 element without one or more. mates, in And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. The ship- Ah! well a-day! what evil looks their sore distress, would fain throw the Instead of the cross, the Albatross whole guilt on the ancient Mariner; in sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird round his neck. About my neck was hung. PART III. THERE passed a weary time. throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. At first it seemed a little speck, It moved and moved, and took at last A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! And still it neared and neared: As if it dodged a water-sprite, It plunged and tacked and veered. Each The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off With throats unslaked, with black lips At its baked, We could nor laugh nor wail; nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! and at a I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried, A sail! a sail! With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call: Gramercy! they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in, See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst. that comes Without a breeze, without a tide, onward without wind or tide? It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship. And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting She steadies with upright keel! The western wave was all a-flame, When that strange shape drove suddenly And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, (Heaven's Mother send us grace!) As if through a dungeon grate he peered Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Are those her ribs through which the Sun And is that Woman all her crew? Sun. The Is that a Death? and are there two? spectre woman Is Death that woman's mate? and her deathmate, and no other on board the skeletonship. Like vessel, like crew! Her lips were red, her looks were free, Her skin was as white as leprosy, Death and The naked hulk alongside came, Life in Death have And the twain were casting dice; diced for "The game is done! I've won, I've won!" the ship's Quoth she, and whistles thrice. The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: We listened and looked sideways up My life-blood seemed to sip! The stars were dim, and thick the night, white; From the sails the dew did drip Till clomb above the eastern bar 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,- And every soul, it passed me by, crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner. No twilight within the courts of the sun. At the rising of the Moon. One after another, His shipmates drop down dead. But Life- 66 The wedding-guest feareth that a spi PART IV. 'I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner rit is talk-And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand.* ing to him. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, But the an- Fear not, fear not, thou wedding-guest! cient Ma eth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance. He despis- Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide, wide sea! And never a saint took pity on The many men, so beautiful! And a thousand thousand slimy things And envi- I looked upon the rotting sea, they should And drew my eyes away; eth that live, and so many lie dead. I looked upon the rotting deck, * 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. |