by Coleridge · Cluster: Ship · Endurance
Abstract
Early drafts of major poems — the Eolian Harp effusion, The Destiny of Nations, the 1798 Ancient Mariner, The Raven, Lewti, Dejection, Hymn before Sunrise, To Wordsworth, Youth and Age; supernatural, nature, imagination and grief across canonical works.
Connections
Archetypes: Outsider Motifs: Supernatural, Sea, Ship, Ghosts, Memory Themes & Concepts: Guilt, Grace and Redemption, Imagination, Grief and Loss, Romantic Love, Sublime Forms & Genres: Ballad Ballade, Narrative Poem, Ode Settings: Ship Characters: Christ
Testo integrale / Full text
A
[Vide ante, p. 100]
EFFUSION 35
Clevedon, August 20th, 1795.
(First Draft)
My pensive SARA! thy soft Cheek reclin’d
Thus on my arm, how soothing sweet it is
Beside our Cot to sit, our Cot o’ergrown
With white-flowr’d Jasmine and the blossom’d myrtle,
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) 5
And watch the Clouds, that late were rich with light,
Slow-sad’ning round, and mark the star of eve
Serenely brilliant, like thy polish’d Sense,
Shine opposite! What snatches of perfume
The noiseless gale from yonder bean-field wafts! 10
The stilly murmur of the far-off Sea
Tells us of Silence! and behold, my love!
In the half-closed window we will place the Harp,
Which by the desultory Breeze caress’d,
Like some coy maid half willing to be woo’d, 15
Utters such sweet upbraidings as, perforce,
Tempt to repeat the wrong!
[M. R.]
EFFUSION, p. 96. (1797.)
(Second Draft)
My pensive SARA! thy soft Cheek reclin’d
Thus on my arm, most soothing sweet it is
To sit beside our Cot, our Cot o’ergrown
With white-flower’d Jasmin, and the broad-leav’d Myrtle
(Meet emblems they of Innocence and Love!) 5
And watch the Clouds that, late were rich with light,
Slow-sadd’ning round, and mark the Star of eve
Serenely brilliant (such should WISDOM be!)
Shine opposite. How exquisite the Scents
Snatch’d from yon Bean-field! And the world so hush’d! 10
The stilly murmur of the far-off Sea
Tells us of Silence! And that simplest Lute
Plac’d lengthways in the clasping casement, hark!
How by the desultory Breeze caress’d
(Like some coy Maid half-yielding to her Lover) 15
It pours such sweet Upbraidings, as must needs
Tempt to repeat the wrong. And now it’s strings
Boldlier swept, the long sequacious notes
Over delicious Surges sink and rise
In aëry voyage, Music such as erst 20
Round rosy bowers (so Legendaries tell)
To sleeping Maids came floating witchingly
By wand’ring West winds stoln from Faery land;
Where on some magic Hybla MELODIES
Round many a newborn honey-dropping Flower 25
Footless and wild, like Birds of Paradise,
Nor pause nor perch, warbling on untir’d wing.
And thus, my Love! as on the midway Slope
Of yonder Hill I stretch my limbs at noon
And tranquil muse upon Tranquillity. 30
Full many a Thought uncall’d and undetain’d
And many idle flitting Phantasies
Traverse my indolent and passive Mind
As wild, as various, as the random Gales
That swell or flutter on this subject Lute. 35
And what if All of animated Life
Be but as Instruments diversly fram’d
That tremble into thought, while thro’ them breathes
One infinite and intellectual Breeze,
And all in diff’rent Heights so aptly hung, 40
That Murmurs indistinct and Bursts sublime,
Shrill Discords and most soothing Melodies,
Harmonious from Creation’s vast concent —
Thus God would be the universal Soul,
Mechaniz’d matter as th’ organic harps 45
And each one’s Tunes be that, which each calls I.
But thy more serious Look a mild Reproof
Darts, O beloved Woman, and thy words
Pious and calm check these unhallow’d Thoughts,
These Shapings of the unregen’rate Soul, 50
Bubbles, that glitter as they rise and break
On vain Philosophy’s aye-babbling Spring:
Thou biddest me walk humbly with my God!
Meek Daughter in the family of Christ.
Wisely thou sayest, and holy are thy words! 55
Nor may I unblam’d or speak or think of Him,
Th’ INCOMPREHENSIBLE! save when with Awe
I praise him, and with Faith that inly feels,
Who with his saving Mercies healèd me,
A sinful and most miserable man 60
Wilder’d and dark, and gave me to possess
PEACE
and
this
COT, and
THEE, my
best-belov’d!
[MS. R.]
RECOLLECTION
[Vide ante, pp. 53, 48]
As the tir’d savage, who his drowsy frame
Had bask’d beneath the sun’s unclouded flame,
Awakes amid the troubles of the air,
The skiey deluge and white lightning’s glare,
Aghast he scours before the tempest’s sweep, 5
And sad recalls the sunny hour of sleep!
So tost by storms along life’s wild’ring way
Mine eye reverted views that cloudless day,
When by my native brook I wont to rove,
While HOPE with kisses nurs’d the infant LOVE! 10
Dear native brook! like peace so placidly
Smoothing thro’ fertile fields thy current meek —
Dear native brook! where first young POESY
Star’d wildly eager in her noon-tide dream;
Where blameless Pleasures dimpled Quiet’s cheek, 15
As water-lilies ripple thy slow stream!
How many various-fated years have past,
What blissful and what anguish’d hours, since last
I skimm’d the smooth thin stone along thy breast
Numb’ring its light leaps! Yet so deep imprest 20
Sink the sweet scenes of childhood, that mine eyes
I never shut amid the sunny blaze,
But strait, with all their tints, thy waters rise,
The crossing plank, and margin’s willowy maze,
And bedded sand, that, vein’d with various dyes, 25
Gleam’d thro’ thy bright transparence to the gaze —
Ah! fair tho’ faint those forms of memory seem
Like Heaven’s bright bow on thy smooth evening stream.
THE DESTINY OF NATIONS
[Add. (MSS.) 34,225. f. 5. Vide ante, p. 131.]
[DRAFT I]
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Till we the deep prelusive strain have pour’d
To the Great Father, only Rightful King,
Eternal Father! king omnipotent;
Beneath whose shadowing banners wide-unfurl’d 5
Justice leads forth her tyrant-quelling Hosts.
Such Symphony demands best Instrument.
Seize, then, my Soul, from Freedom’s trophied dome
The harp which hanging high between the shields
Of Brutus and Leonidas, oft gives 10
A fitful music, when with breeze-like Touch
Great Spirits passing thrill its wings: the Bard
Listens and knows, thy will to work by Fame.
For what is Freedom, but the unfetter’d use
Of all the powers which God for use had given? 15
But chiefly this, him first to view, him last,
Thro’ shapes, and sounds, and all the world of sense,
The change of empires, and the deeds of Man
Translucent, as thro’ clouds that veil the Light.
But most, O Man! in thine in wasted Sense 20
And the still growth of Immortality
Image of God, and his Eternity.
But some there are who deem themselves most wise
When they within this gross and visible sphere
Chain down the winged thought, scoffing ascent 25
Proud in their meanness — and themselves they mock
With noisy emptiness of learned phrase
Their subtle fluids, impacts, essences,
Self-working tools, uncaused effects, and all
Those blind Omniscients, those Almighty Slaves, 30
Untenanting Creation of its God!
But properties are God: the Naked Mass
(If Mass there be, at best a guess obscure,)
Acts only by its inactivity.
Here we pause humbly. Others boldlier dream, 35
That as one body is the Aggregate
Of Atoms numberless, each organiz’d,
So by a strange and dim similitude
Infinite myriads of self-conscious minds
Form one all-conscious Spirit, who controlls 40
With absolute ubiquity of Thought
All his component Monads: linked Minds,
Each in his own sphere evermore evolving
Its own entrusted powers — Howe’er this be,
Whether a dream presumptious, caught from earth 45
And earthly form, or vision veiling Truth,
Yet the Omnific Father of all Worlds
God in God immanent, the eternal Word,
That gives forth, yet remains — Sun, that at once
Dawns, rises, sets and crowns the Height of Heaven, 50
Great general Agent in all finite souls,
Doth in that action put on finiteness,
For all his Thoughts are acts, and every act
A Being of Substance; God impersonal,
Yet in all worlds impersonate in all, 55
Absolute Infinite, whose dazzling robe
Flows in rich folds, and darts in shooting Hues
Of infinite Finiteness! he rolls each orb
Matures each planet, and Tree, and spread thro’ all
Wields all the Universe of Life and Thought, 60
[Yet leaves to all the Creatures meanest, highest,
Angelic Right, self-conscious Agency — ]
[Note. The last two lines of Draft I are erased.]
[DRAFT II]
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Ere we the deep prelusive strain have pour’d
To the Great Father, only Rightful king
All-gracious Father, king Omnipotent!
Mind! co-eternal Word! forth-breathing Sound! 5
Aye unconfounded: undivided Trine —
Birth and Procession; ever re-incircling Act!
God in God immanent, distinct yet one!
Omnific, Omniform. The Immoveable,
That goes forth and remains, eke —— and at once 10
Dawns, rises, and sets and crowns the height of Heaven!
[Cf. Anima Poetæ, 1895, p. 162.]
Such Symphony demands best Instrument.
Seize then, my soul! from Freedom’s trophied dome.
The harp which hanging high between the shields
Of Brutus and Leonidas, gives oft 15
A fateful Music, when with breeze-like Touch
Pure spirits thrill its strings: the Poet’s heart
Listens, and smiling knows that Poets demand
Once more to live for Man and work by Fame:
For what is Freedom, but th’ unfetter’d use 20
Of all the Powers, which God for use had given!
Thro’ the sweet Influence of harmonious Word ——
The zephyr-travell’d Harp, that flashes forth
Jets and low wooings of wild melody
That sally forth and seek the meeting Ear, 25
Then start away, half-wanton, half-afraid
Like the red-breast forced by wintry snows,
In the first visits by the genial Hearth,
From the fair Hand, that tempts it to —
Or like a course of flame, from the deep sigh 30
Of the idly-musing Lover dreaming of his Love
With thoughts and hopes and fears, {sinking, snatching,
{as warily, upward
Bending, recoiling, fluttering as itself
And cheats us with false prophecies of sound
[DRAFT III]
Auspicious Reverence! Hush all meaner song,
Till we the deep prelusive strain have pour’d
To the Great Father, only Rightful king,
All Gracious Father, king Omnipotent!
To Him, the inseparate, unconfounded TRINE, 5
MIND!
Co-eternal
WORD! Forth-breathing
SOUND!
Birth! and PROCESSION! Ever-circling ACT!
GOD
in
GOD
immanent, distinct
yet
one!
Sole Rest, true Substance of all finite Being!
Omnific! Omniform! The Immoveable, 10
That goes forth and remaineth: and at once
Dawns, rises, sets and crowns the height of Heaven!
Such Symphony demands best Instrument.
Seize then, my Soul! from Freedom’s trophied dome
The Harp, that hanging high between the Shields 15
Of Brutus and Leonidas, flashes forth
Starts of shrill-music, when with breeze-like Touch
Departed Patriots thrill the ——
D
PASSAGES IN SOUTHEY’S
Joan
of Arc (FIRST EDITION, 1796)
CONTRIBUTED BY S. T. COLERIDGE.
[Vide ante, p. 131]
BOOK I, ll. 33-51.
“O France,” he cried, “my country”!
When soft as breeze that curls the summer clouds
At close of day, stole on his ear a voice 35
Seraphic.
“Son of Orleans! grieve no more.
His eye not slept, tho’ long the All-just endured
The woes of France; at length his bar’d right arm
Volleys red thunder. From his veiling clouds
Rushes the storm, Ruin and Fear and Death. 40
Take Son of Orleans the relief of Heaven:
Nor thou the wintry hours of adverse fate
Dream useless: tho’ unhous’d thou roam awhile,
The keen and icy wind that shivers thee
Shall brace thine arm, and with stern discipline 45
Firm thy strong heart for fearless enterprise
As who, through many a summer night serene
Had hover’d round the fold with coward wish;
Horrid with brumal ice, the fiercer wolf
From his bleak mountain and his den of snows 50
Leaps terrible and mocks the shepherd’s spears.”
ll. 57-59.
nor those ingredients dire
Erictho mingled on Pharsalia’s field,
Making the soul retenant its cold corse.
ll. 220-222.
the groves of Paradise
Gave their mild echoes to the choral songs
Of new-born beings. —
ll. 267-280.
And oft the tear from his averted eye
He dried; mindful of fertile fields laid waste,
Dispeopled hamlets, the lorn widow’s groan,
And the pale orphan’s feeble cry for bread. 270
But when he told of those fierce sons of guilt
That o’er this earth which God had fram’d so fair —
Spread desolation, and its wood-crown’d hills
Make echo to the merciless war-dog’s howl;
And how himself from such foul savagery 275
Had scarce escap’d with life, then his stretch’d arm
Seem’d, as it wielded the resistless sword
Of Vengeance: in his eager eye the soul
Was eloquent; warm glow’d his manly cheek;
And beat against his side the indignant heart. 280
ll. 454-460.
then methought
From a dark lowering cloud, the womb of tempests, 455
A giant arm burst forth and dropt a sword
That pierc’d like lightning thro’ the midnight air.
Then was there heard a voice, which in mine ear
Shall echo, at that hour of dreadful joy
When the pale foe shall wither in my rage. 460
ll. 484- 496
Last evening lone in thought I wandered forth.
Down in the dingle’s depth there is a brook 485
That makes its way between the craggy stones,
Murmuring hoarse murmurs. On an aged oak
Whose root uptorn by tempests overhangs
The stream, I sat, and mark’d the deep red clouds
Gather before the wind, while the rude dash 490
Of waters rock’d my senses, and the mists
Rose round: there as I gazed, a form dim-seen
Descended, like the dark and moving clouds
That in the moonbeam change their shadowy shapes.
His voice was on the breeze; he bade me hail 495
The missioned Maid! for lo! the hour was come.
BOOK III, ll. 73-82.
Martyr’d patriots — spirits pure
Wept by the good ye fell! Yet still survives
Sow’d by your toil and by your blood manur’d 75
Th’ imperishable seed, soon to become
The Tree, beneath whose vast and mighty shade
The sons of men shall pitch their tents in peace,
And in the unity of truth preserve
The bond of love. For by the eye of God 80
Hath Virtue sworn, that never one good act
Was work’d in vain.
BOOK IV, ll. 328-336.
The murmuring tide
Lull’d her, and many a pensive pleasing dream
Rose in sad shadowy trains at Memory’s call. 330
She thought of Arc, and of the dingled brook,
Whose waves oft leaping on their craggy course
Made dance the low-hung willow’s dripping twigs;
And where it spread into a glassy lake,
Of the old oak which on the smooth expanse, 335
Imag’d its hoary mossy-mantled boughs.
THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE, IN SEVEN PARTS.
ARGUMENT
How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by Storms to the cold
Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course
to the Tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange
things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to
his own Country.
I.
It is an ancyent Marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three:
“By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye
“Now wherefore stoppest me?
“The Bridegroom’s doors are open’d wide, 5
“And I am next of kin;
“The Guests are met, the Feast is set, —
“May’st hear the merry din.
But still he holds the wedding-guest —
There was a Ship, quoth he — 10
“Nay, if thou’st got a laughsome tale,
“Marinere! come with me.”
He holds him with his skinny hand,
Quoth he, there was a Ship —
“Now get thee hence, thou grey-beard Loon! 15
“Or my Staff shall make thee skip.
He holds him with his glittering eye —
The wedding guest stood still
And listens like a three year’s child;
The Marinere hath his will. 20
The wedding-guest sate on a stone,
He cannot chuse but hear:
And thus spake on that ancyent man,
The bright-eyed Marinere.
The Ship was cheer’d, the Harbour clear’d — 25
Merrily did we drop
Below the Kirk, below the Hill,
Below the Light-house top.
The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the Sea came he: 30
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the Sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon —
The wedding-guest here beat his breast, 35
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The Bride hath pac’d into the Hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry Minstralsy. 40
The wedding-guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot chuse but hear:
And thus spake on that ancyent Man,
The bright-eyed Marinere.
Listen, Stranger! Storm and Wind, 45
A Wind and Tempest strong!
For days and weeks it play’d us freaks —
Like Chaff we drove along.
Listen, Stranger! Mist and Snow,
And it grew wond’rous cauld: 50
And Ice mast-high came floating by
As green as Emerauld.
And thro’ the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen;
Ne shapes of men ne beasts we ken — 55
The Ice was all between.
The Ice was here, the Ice was there,
The Ice was all around:
It crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d —
Like noises of a swound. 60
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the Fog it came;
And an it were a Christian Soul,
We hail’d it in God’s name.
The Marineres gave it biscuit-worms, 65
And round and round it flew:
The Ice did split with a Thunder-fit,
The Helmsman steer’d us thro’.
And a good south wind sprung up behind.
The Albatross did follow; 70
And every day for food or play
Came to the Marinere’s hollo!
In mist or cloud on mast or shroud,
It perch’d for vespers nine,
Whiles all the night thro’ fog smoke-white, 75
Glimmer’d the white moon-shine.
“God save thee, ancyent Marinere!
“From the fiends that plague thee thus —
“Why look’st thou so?” — with my cross bow
I shot the Albatross. 80
II.
The Sun came up upon the right,
Out of the Sea came he;
And broad as a weft upon the left
Went down into the Sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind, 85
But no sweet Bird did follow
Ne any day for food or play
Came to the Marinere’s hollo!
And I had done an hellish thing
And it would work ‘em woe: 90
For all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird
That made the Breeze to blow.
Ne dim ne red, like God’s own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird 95
That brought the fog and mist.
‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay
That bring the fog and mist.
The breezes blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow follow’d free: 100
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent Sea.
Down dropt the breeze, the Sails dropt down,
‘Twas sad as sad could be
And we did speak only to break 105
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. 110
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, ne breath ne motion.
As idle as a painted Ship
Upon a painted Ocean.
Water, water, every where, 115
And all the boards did shrink:
Water, water, everywhere,
Ne any drop to drink.
The very deeps did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be! 120
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy Sea.
About, about, in reel and rout,
The Death-fires danc’d at night;
The water, like a witch’s oils, 125
burnt green and blue and white.
And some in dreams assured were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so:
Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us
From the Land of Mist and Snow. 130
And every tongue thro’ utter drouth
Was wither’d at the root;
We could not speak no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks 135
Had I from old and young;
Instead of the Cross the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
III.
I saw a something in the Sky
No bigger than my fist; 140
At first it seem’d a little speck
And then it seem’d a mist:
It mov’d and mov’d, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! 145
And still it ner’d and ner’d;
And, an it dodg’d a water-sprite,
It plung’d and tack’d and veer’d.
With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d
Ne could we laugh, ne wail: 150
Then while thro’ drouth all dumb they stood
I bit my arm and suck’d the blood
And cry’d, A sail! a sail!
With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d
Agape they hear’d me call: 155
Gramercy! they for joy did grin
And all at once their breath drew in
As they were drinking all.
She doth not tack from side to side —
Hither to work us weal 160
Withouten wind, withouten tide
She steddies with upright keel.
The western wave was all a flame,
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave 165
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
And strait the Sun was fleck’d with bars
(Heaven’s mother send us grace) 170
As if thro’ a dungeon grate he peer’d
With broad and burning face.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she neres and neres!
Are those her Sails that glance in the Sun 175
Like restless gossameres?
Are those her naked ribs, which fleck’d
The sun that did behind them peer?
And are those two all, all the crew,
That woman and her fleshless Pheere? 180
His bones were black with many a crack,
All black and bare, I ween;
Jet-black and bare, save where with rust
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
They’re patch’d with purple and green. 185
Her lips are red, her looks are free,
Her locks are yellow as gold:
Her skin is as white as leprosy,
And she is far liker Death than he;
Her flesh makes the still air cold. 190
The naked Hulk alongside came
And the Twain were playing dice;
“The Game is done! I’ve won, I’ve won!”
Quoth she, and whistled thrice.
A gust of wind sterte up behind 195
And whistled thro’ his bones;
Thro’ the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
Half-whistles and half-groans.
With never a whisper in the Sea
Off darts the Spectre-ship; 200
While clombe above the Eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright Star
Almost atween the tips.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O Stranger! to me) 205
Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang
And curs’d me with his ee.
Four times fifty living men,
With never a sigh or groan,
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump 210
They dropp’d down one by one.
Their souls did from their bodies fly, —
They fled to bliss or woe;
And every soul it pass’d me by,
Like the whiz of my Cross-bow. 215
IV.
“I fear thee, ancyent Marinere!
“I fear thy skinny hand;
“And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
“As is the ribb’d Sea-sand.
“I fear thee and thy glittering eye 220
“And thy skinny hand so brown —
Fear not, fear not, thou wedding guest!
This body dropt not down.
Alone, alone, all all alone
Alone on the wide wide Sea; 225
And Christ would take no pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men so beautiful,
And they all dead did lie!
And a million million slimy things 230
Liv’d on — and so did I.
I look’d upon the rotting Sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I look’d upon the eldritch deck,
And there the dead men lay. 235
I look’d to Heav’n, and try’d to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.
I clos’d my lids and kept them close, 240
Till the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs, 245
Ne rot, ne reek did they;
The look with which they look’d on me,
Had never pass’d away.
An orphan’s curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high: 250
But O! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!
Seven days, seven nights I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
The moving Moon went up the sky, 255
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up
And a star or two beside —
Her beams bemock’d the sultry main
Like morning frosts yspread; 260
But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.
Beyond the shadow of the ship
I watch’d the water-snakes: 265
They mov’d in tracks of shining white;
And when they rear’d, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watch’d their rich attire: 270
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black
They coil’d and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare: 275
A spring of love gusht from my heart,
And I bless’d them unaware!
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I bless’d them unaware.
The self-same moment I could pray; 280
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
V.
O sleep, it is a gentle thing,
Belov’d from pole to pole! 285
To Mary-queen the praise be yeven
She sent the gentle sleep from heaven
That slid into my soul.
The silly buckets on the deck
That had so long remain’d, 290
I dreamt that they were fill’d with dew
And when I awoke it rain’d.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams 295
And still my body drank.
I mov’d and could not feel my limbs,
I was so light, almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed Ghost. 300
The roaring wind! it roar’d far off,
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails
That were so thin and sere.
The upper air bursts into life, 305
And a hundred fire-flags sheen
To and fro they are hurried about;
And to and fro, and in and out
The stars dance on between.
The coming wind doth roar more loud; 310
The sails do sigh, like sedge:
The rain pours down from one black cloud
And the Moon is at its edge.
Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft,
And the Moon is at its side: 315
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning falls with never a jag
A river steep and wide.
The strong wind reach’d the ship: it roar’d
And dropp’d down, like a stone! 320
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groan’d, they stirr’d, they all uprose,
Ne spake, ne mov’d their eyes:
It had been strange, even in a dream 325
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steer’d, the ship mov’d on;
Yet never a breeze up-blew;
The Marineres all ‘gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do: 330
They rais’d their limbs like lifeless tools —
We were a ghastly crew.
The body of my brother’s son
Stood by me knee to knee:
The body and I pull’d at one rope, 335
But he said nought to me —
And I quak’d to think of my own voice
How frightful it would be!
The day-light dawn’d — they dropp’d their arms,
And cluster’d round the mast: 340
Sweet sounds rose slowly thro’ their mouths
And from their bodies pass’d.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the sun:
Slowly the sounds came back again 345
Now mix’d, now one by one.
Sometimes a dropping from the sky
I heard the Lavrock sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are
How they seem’d to fill the sea and air 350
With their sweet jargoning.
And now ‘twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song
That makes the heavens be mute. 355
It ceas’d: 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 360
Singeth a quiet tune.
Listen, O listen, thou Wedding-guest!
“Marinere! thou hast thy will:
“For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make
“My body and soul to be still.” 365
Never sadder tale was told
To a man of woman born:
Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest!
Thou’lt rise to-morrow morn.
Never sadder tale was heard 370
By a man of woman born:
The Marineres all return’d to work
As silent as beforne.
The Marineres all ‘gan pull the ropes,
But look at me they n’old: 375
Thought I, I am as thin as air —
They cannot me behold.
Till noon we silently sail’d on
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship 380
Mov’d onward from beneath.
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. 385
The sails at noon left off their tune
And the Ship stood still also.
The sun right up above the mast
Had fix’d her to the ocean:
But in a minute she ‘gan stir 390
With a short uneasy motion —
Backwards and forwards half her length
With a short uneasy motion.
Then, like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound: 395
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell into a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life return’d, 400
I heard and in my soul discern’d
Two voices in the air,
“Is it he?” quoth one, “Is this the man?
“By him who died on cross,
“With his cruel bow he lay’d full low 405
“The harmless Albatross.
“The spirit who ‘bideth by himself
“In the land of mist and snow,
“He lov’d the bird that lov’d the man
“Who shot him with his bow. 410
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he the man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.
VI.
FIRST VOICE.
“But tell me, tell me! speak again, 415
“Thy soft response renewing —
“What makes that ship drive on so fast?
“What is the Ocean doing?
SECOND VOICE.
“Still as a Slave before his Lord,
“The Ocean hath no blast: 420
“His great bright eye most silently
“Up to the moon is cast —
“If he may know which way to go,
“For she guides him smooth or grim.
“See, brother, see! how graciously 425
“She looketh down on him.
FIRST VOICE.
“But why drives on that ship so fast
“Withouten wave or wind?
SECOND VOICE.
“The air is cut away before,
“And closes from behind. 430
“Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high,
“Or we shall be belated:
“For slow and slow that ship will go,
“When the Marinere’s trance is abated.”
I woke, and we were sailing on 435
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: 440
All fix’d on me their stony eyes
That in the moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never pass’d away:
I could not draw my een from theirs 445
Ne turn them up to pray.
And in its time the spell was snapt,
And I could move my een:
I look’d far-forth, but little saw
Of what might else be seen. 450
Like one, that on a lonely road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn’d round, walks on
And turns no more his head:
Because he knows, a frightful fiend 455
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breath’d a wind on me,
Ne sound ne motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea
In ripple or in shade. 460
It rais’d my hair, it fann’d my cheek,
Like a meadow-gale of spring —
It mingled strangely with my fears,
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, 465
Yet she sail’d softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze —
On me alone it blew.
O dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see? 470
Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk?
Is this mine own countrée?
We drifted o’er the Harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray —
“O let me be awake, my God! 475
“Or let me sleep alway!”
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moon light lay,
And the shadow of the moon. 480
The moonlight bay was white all o’er,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
Like as of torches came.
A little distance from the prow 485
Those dark-red shadows were;
But soon I saw that my own flesh
Was red as in a glare.
I turn’d my head in fear and dread,
And by the holy rood, 490
The bodies had advanc’d, and now
Before the mast they stood.
They lifted up their stiff right arms,
They held them strait and tight;
And each right-arm burnt like a torch, 495
A torch that’s borne upright.
Their stony eye-balls glitter’d on
In the red and smoky light.
I pray’d and turn’d my head away
Forth looking as before. 500
There was no breeze upon the bay,
No wave against the shore.
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steep’d in silentness 505
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came. 510
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turn’d my eyes upon the deck —
O Christ! what saw I there?
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; 515
And by the Holy rood
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each wav’d his hand:
It was a heavenly sight: 520
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light:
This seraph-band, each wav’d his hand,
No voice did they impart —
No voice; but O! the silence sank, 525
Like music on my heart.
Eftsones I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the pilot’s cheer:
My head was turn’d perforce away
And I saw a boat appear. 530
Then vanish’d all the lovely lights;
The bodies rose anew:
With silent pace, each to his place,
Came back the ghastly crew.
The wind, that shade nor motion made, 535
On me alone it blew.
The pilot, and the pilot’s boy
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy,
The dead men could not blast. 540
I saw a third — I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away 545
The Albatross’s blood.
VII.
This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the Sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with Marineres 550
That come from a far Contrée.
He kneels at morn and noon and eve —
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss, that wholly hides
The rotted old Oak-stump. 555
The Skiff-boat ne’rd: I heard them talk,
“Why, 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 — 560
“And they answer’d not our cheer.
“The planks look warp’d, and see those sails
“How thin they are and sere!
“I never saw aught like to them
“Unless perchance it were 565
“The 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 she-wolfs young. 570
“Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look —
(The Pilot made reply)
“I am afear’d—”Push on, push on!
“Said the Hermit cheerily.
The Boat came closer to the Ship, 575
But I ne spake ne stirr’d!
The Boat came close beneath the Ship,
And strait a sound was heard!
Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread: 580
It reach’d the Ship, it split the bay;
The Ship went down like lead.
Stunn’d by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote:
Like one that had been seven days drown’d 585
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: 590
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.
I mov’d my lips: the Pilot shriek’d
And fell down in a fit.
The Holy Hermit rais’d his eyes 595
And pray’d where he did sit.
I took the oars: the Pilot’s boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laugh’d loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro, 600
“Ha! ha!” quoth he—”full plain I see,
“The devil knows how to row.”
And now all in mine own Countrée
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepp’d forth from the boat, 605
And scarcely he could stand.
“O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy Man!
The Hermit cross’d his brow —
“Say quick,” quoth he, “I bid thee say
“What manner man art thou?” 610
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench’d
With a woeful agony,
Which forc’d me to begin my tale
And then it left me free.
Since then at an uncertain hour, 615
Now oftimes and now fewer,
That anguish comes and makes me tell
My ghastly aventure.
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech; 620
The 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; 625
But in the Garden-bower the Bride
And Bride-maids singing are:
And hark the little Vesper-bell
Which biddeth me to prayer.
O Wedding-guest! this soul hath been 630
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ‘twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the Marriage-feast,
‘Tis sweeter far to me 635
To walk together to the Kirk
With a goodly company.
To walk together to the Kirk
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends, 640
Old men, and babes, and loving friends,
And Youths, and Maidens gay.
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest!
He prayeth well who loveth well, 645
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best who loveth best,
All things both great and small:
For the dear God, who loveth us,
He made and loveth all. 650
The Marinere, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone; and now the wedding-guest
Turn’d from the bridegroom’s door.
He went, like one that hath been stunn’d 655
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.
THE RAVEN
[As printed in the Morning Post, March 10, 1798.]
[Vide ante, p. 169.]
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree,
There was of Swine a large company.
They were making a rude repast,
Grunting as they crunch’d the mast.
Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high — 5
One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy.
Next came a Raven, who lik’d not such folly;
He belong’d, I believe, to the witch MELANCHOLY!
Blacker was he than the blackest jet;
Flew low in the rain; his feathers were wet. 10
He pick’d up the acorn and buried it strait,
By the side of a river both deep and great.
Where then did the Raven go?
He went high and low —
O’er hill, o’er dale did the black Raven go!
15
Many Autumns, many Springs;
Travell’d he with wand’ring wings;
Many Summers, many Winters —
I can’t tell half his adventures.
At length he return’d, and with him a she; 20
And the acorn was grown a large oak-tree.
They built them a nest in the topmost bough,
And young ones they had, and were jolly enow.
But soon came a Woodman in leathern guise:
His brow like a pent-house hung over his eyes. 25
He’d an axe in his hand, and he nothing spoke,
But with many a hem! and a sturdy stroke,
At last he brought down the poor Raven’s own oak.
His young ones were kill’d, for they could not depart,
And his wife she did die of a broken heart! 30
The branches from off it the Woodman did sever!
And they floated it down on the course of the River:
They saw’d it to planks, and it’s rind they did strip,
And with this tree and others they built up a ship.
The ship, it was launch’d; but in sight of the land, 35
A tempest arose which no ship could withstand.
It bulg’d on a rock, and the waves rush’d in fast —
The auld Raven flew round and round, and caw’d to the blast.
He heard the sea-shriek of their perishing souls —
They be sunk! O’er the top-mast the mad water rolls. 40
The Raven was glad that such fate they did meet,
They had taken his all, and REVENGE WAS SWEET!
G
LEWTI; OR THE CIRCASSIAN’S LOVE-CHANT
[Vide ante, p. 253.]
(1)
[Add. MSS. 27,902.]
High o’er the silver rocks I roved
To forget the form I loved
In hopes fond fancy would be kind
And steal my Mary from my mind
T’was twilight and the lunar beam 5
Sailed slowly o’er Tamaha’s stream
As down its sides the water strayed
Bright on a rock the moonbeam playe[d]
It shone, half-sheltered from the view
By pendent boughs of tressy yew 10
True, true to love but false to rest,
So fancy whispered to my breast,
So shines her forehead smooth and fair
Gleaming through her sable hair
I turned to heaven — but viewed on high 15
The languid lustre of her eye
The moons mild radiant edge I saw
Peeping a black-arched cloud below
Nor yet its faint and paly beam
Could tinge its skirt with yellow gleam 20
I saw the white waves o’er and o’er
Break against a curved shore
Now disappearing from the sight
Now twinkling regular and white
Her mouth, her smiling mouth can shew 25
As white and regular a row
Haste Haste, some God indulgent prove
And bear me, bear me to my love
Then might — for yet the sultry hour
Glows from the sun’s oppressive power 30
Then might her bosom soft and white
Heave upon my swimming sight
As yon two swans together heave
Upon the gently-swelling wave
Haste — haste some God indulgent prove 35
And bear — oh bear me to my love.
(2)
[Add. MSS. 35,343.]
THE CIRCASSIAN’S LOVE-CHAUNT
[Wild Indians]
High o’er the rocks at night I rov’d
[silver]
To forget the form I lov’d.
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
[Cora]
Depart! for LEWTI is not kind!
[Cora]
Bright was the Moon: the Moon’s bright beam 5
Speckled with many a moving shade,
Danc’d upon Tamaha’s stream;
But brightlier on the Rock it play’d,
The Rock, half-shelter’d from my view
By pendent boughs of tressy Yew! 10
True to Love, but false to Rest,
My fancy whisper’d in my breast —
So shines my Lewti’s forehead fair
Gleaming thro’ her sable hair,
Image of LEWTI! from my mind 15
[Cora]
Depart! for LEWTI is not kind.
[Cora]
I saw a cloud of whitest hue;
Onward to the Moon it pass’d!
Still brighter and more bright it grew
With floating colours not a few, 20
Till it reach’d the Moon at last.
LEWTI; OR THE CIRCASSIAN’S LOVE-CHANT
(3)
[Add. MSS. 35,343, f. 3 recto.]
High o’er the rocks at night I rov’d
To forget the form I lov’d.
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
Depart: for LEWTI is not kind. 25
Bright was the Moon: the Moon’s bright bea[m]
Speckled with many a moving shade,
Danc’d upon TAMAHA’S stream;
But brightlier on the Rock it play’d,
The Rock, half-shelter’d from my view 30
By pendent boughs of tressy Yew!
True to Love, but false to Rest,
My fancy whisper’d in my breast —
So shines my LEWTI’S forehead fair
Gleaming thro’ her sable hair! 35
Image of LEWTI! from my mind
Depart — for LEWTI is not kind.
I saw a Cloud of whitest hue —
Onward to the Moon it pass’d.
Still brighter and more bright it grew 40
With floating colours not a few,
Till it reach’d the Moon at last:
Then the Cloud was wholly bright
With a rich and amber light!
[deep]
And so with many a hope I seek, 45
And so with joy I find my LEWTI:
And even so my pale wan cheek
Drinks in as deep a flush of Beauty
Image of LEWTI! leave my mind
If Lewti never will be kind! 50
Away the little Cloud, away.
Away it goes — away so soon
[alone]
Alas! it has no power to stay:
It’s hues are dim, it’s hues are grey
Away it passes from the Moon. 55
And now tis whiter than before —
As white as my poor cheek will be,
When, LEWTI! on my couch I lie
A dying Man for Love of thee!
[Thou living Image]
Image of LEWTI in my mind, 60
Methinks thou lookest not [kin] unkind!
INTRODUCTION TO THE TALE OF THE DARK LADIE
[Vide ante, p. 330.]
TO THE EDITOR OF THE MORNING POST.
SIR,
The following Poem is the Introduction to a somewhat longer one, for
which I shall solicit insertion on your next open day. The use of the
Old Ballad word, Ladie, for Lady, is the only piece of obsoleteness in
it; and as it is professedly a tale of ancient times, I trust, that ‘the
affectionate lovers of venerable antiquity’ (as Camden says) will grant
me their pardon, and perhaps may be induced to admit a force and
propriety in it. A heavier objection may be adduced against the Author,
that in these times of fear and expectation, when novelties explode
around us in all directions, he should presume to offer to the public a
silly tale of old fashioned love; and, five years ago, I own, I should
have allowed and felt the force of this objection. But, alas! explosion
has succeeded explosion so rapidly, that novelty itself ceases to appear
new; and it is possible that now, even a simple story, wholly unspired
[? inspired] with politics or personality, may find some attention amid
the hubbub of Revolutions, as to those who have resided a long time by
the falls of Niagara, the lowest whispering becomes distinctly audible.
S. T. COLERIDGE.
O leave the Lily on its stem;
O leave the Rose upon the spray;
O leave the Elder-bloom, fair Maids!
And listen to my lay.
A Cypress and a Myrtle bough, 5
This morn around my harp you twin’d,
Because it fashion’d mournfully
Its murmurs in the wind.
And now a Tale of Love and Woe,
A woeful Tale of Love I sing: 10
Hark, gentle Maidens, hark! it sighs
And trembles on the string.
But most, my own dear Genevieve!
It sighs and trembles most for thee!
O come and hear the cruel wrongs 15
Befel the dark Ladie!
Few sorrows hath she of her own,
My hope, my joy, my Genevieve!
She loves me best whene’er I sing
The songs that make her grieve. 20
All thoughts, all passions, all delights,
Whatever stirs this mortal frame,
All are but ministers of Love,
And feed his sacred flame.
O ever in my waking dreams, 25
I dwell upon that happy hour,
When midway on the Mount I sate
Beside the ruin’d Tow’r.
The moonshine, stealing o’er the scene,
Had blended with the lights of eve, 30
And she was there, my hope! my joy!
My own dear Genevieve!
She lean’d against the armed Man
The statue of the armed Knight —
She stood and listen’d to my harp, 35
Amid the ling’ring light.
I play’d a sad and doleful air,
I sang an old and moving story,
An old rude song, that fitted well
The ruin wild and hoary. 40
She listen’d with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace:
For well she knew, I could not choose
But gaze upon her face.
I told her of the Knight that wore 45
Upon his shield a burning brand.
And how for ten long years he woo’d
The Ladie of the Land:
I told her, how he pin’d, and ah!
The deep, the low, the pleading tone, 50
With which I sang another’s love,
Interpreted my own!
She listen’d with a flitting blush,
With downcast eyes and modest grace.
And she forgave me, that I gaz’d 55
Too fondly on her face!
But when I told the cruel scorn,
That craz’d this bold and lovely Knight;
And how he roam’d the mountain woods,
Nor rested day or night; 60
And how he cross’d the Woodman’s paths,
Thro’ briars and swampy mosses beat;
How boughs rebounding scourg’d his limbs,
And low stubs gor’d his feet.
How sometimes from the savage den, 65
And sometimes from the darksome shade,
And sometimes starting up at once,
In green and sunny glade;
There came and look’d him in the face
An Angel beautiful and bright, 70
And how he knew it was a Fiend,
This mis’rable Knight!
And how, unknowing what he did,
He leapt amid a lawless band,
And sav’d from outrage worse than death 75
The Ladie of the Land.
And how she wept, and clasp’d his knees,
And how she tended him in vain,
And meekly strove to expiate
The scorn that craz’d his brain; 80
And how she nurs’d him in a cave;
And how his madness went away,
When on the yellow forest leaves
A dying man he lay;
His dying words — but when I reach’d 85
That tenderest strain of all the ditty,
My fault’ring voice and pausing harp
Disturb’d her soul with pity.
All impulses of soul and sense
Had thrill’d my guiltless Genevieve — 90
The music and the doleful tale,
The rich and balmy eve;
And hopes and fears that kindle hope,
An undistinguishable throng;
And gentle wishes long subdu’d, 95
Subdu’d and cherish’d long.
She wept with pity and delight —
She blush’d with love and maiden shame,
And like the murmurs of a dream,
I heard her breathe my name. 100
I saw her bosom heave and swell,
Heave and swell with inward sighs —
I could not choose but love to see
Her gentle bosom rise.
Her wet cheek glow’d; she stept aside, 105
As conscious of my look she stept;
Then suddenly, with tim’rous eye,
She flew to me, and wept;
She half-inclos’d me with her arms —
She press’d me with a meek embrace; 110
And, bending back her head, look’d up,
And gaz’d upon my face.
‘Twas partly love, and partly fear,
And partly ‘twas a bashful art,
That I might rather feel than see, 115
The swelling of her heart.
I calm’d her fears, and she was calm,
And told her love with virgin pride;
And so I won my Genevieve,
My bright and beaut’ous bride. 120
And now once more a tale of woe,
A woeful tale of love, I sing:
For thee, my Genevieve! it sighs,
And trembles on the string.
When last I sang the cruel scorn 125
That craz’d this bold and lonely Knight,
And how he roam’d the mountain woods,
Nor rested day or night;
I promis’d thee a sister tale
Of Man’s perfidious cruelty: 130
Come, then, and hear what cruel wrong
Befel the Dark Ladie.
End of the Introduction.
THE TRIUMPH OF LOYALTY.
[Vide ante, p. 421.]
AN HISTORIC DRAMA
IN
FIVE ACTS.