by Coleridge · Cluster: Bible · Sin and the Fall · Fall from Innocence
Abstract
A long supernatural ballad in which a mariner who kills an albatross suffers a spectral voyage of guilt, penance and reluctant redemption; themes of sin, guilt, the supernatural, providence and the sea.
Capitoli / Chapters
Connections
Topoi: Quest Archetypes: Outsider Motifs: Supernatural, Sea, Birds Themes & Concepts: Sin and the Fall, Guilt, Grace and Redemption, Providence Forms & Genres: Ballad Ballade Settings: Ship Characters: Death Personified, Ancient Mariner
Testo integrale / Full text
IN SEVEN PARTS
Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in
rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis
enarrabit? et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et
singulorum munera? Quid agunt? quae loca habitant? Harum rerum
notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit.
Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in
tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne
mens assuefacta hodiernae vitae minutiis se contrahat nimis,
et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati
interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab
incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus. — T. BURNET, Archaeol.
Phil. p. 68.
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. [L. B. 1798.]
PART I
[Sidenote: An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden to a
wedding-feast, and detaineth one.]
It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
‘By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide, 5
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May’st hear the merry din.’
He holds him with his skinny hand,
‘There was a ship,’ quoth he. 10
‘Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!’
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
[Sidenote: The Wedding-Guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old
seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.]
He holds him with his glittering eye —
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child: 15
The Mariner hath his will.
The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner. 20
‘The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
[Sidenote: The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good
wind and fair weather, till it reached the line.]
The Sun came up upon the left, 25
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon—’ 30
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
[Sidenote: The Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner
continueth his tale.]
The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes 35
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner. 40
[Sidenote: The ship driven by a storm toward the south pole.]
‘And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
With sloping masts and dipping prow, 45
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled. 50
And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
[Sidenote: The land of ice, and of fearful sounds where no living thing
was to be seen.]
And through the drifts the snowy clifts 55
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken —
The ice was all between.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around: 60
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
[Sidenote: Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the
snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality.]
At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul, 65
We hailed it in God’s name.
It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through! 70
[Sidenote: And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and
followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating
ice.]
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner’s hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, 75
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.’
[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of
good omen.]
‘God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus! — 80
Why look’st thou so?’ — With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.
PART II
The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left 85
Went down into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners’ hollo! 90
[Sidenote: His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for
killing the bird of good luck.]
And I had done a hellish thing,
And it would work ‘em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, 95
That made the breeze to blow!
[Sidenote: But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus
make themselves accomplices in the crime.]
Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist. 100
‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
[Sidenote: The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean,
and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.]
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst 105
Into that silent sea.
[Sidenote: The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.]
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
‘Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea! 110
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day, 115
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
[Sidenote: And the Albatross begins to be avenged.]
Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink; 120
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 125
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch’s oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white. 130
[Sidenote: A Spirit had followed them; one of the invisible inhabitants
of this planet, neither departed 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.]
And some in dreams assuréd were
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought, 135
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
[Sidenote: The shipmates, in their sore distress, would fain throw the
whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they hang the dead
sea-bird round his neck.]
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young! 140
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
PART III
[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar
off.]
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time! 145
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist; 150
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite, 155
It plunged and tacked and veered.
[Sidenote: 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.]
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 160
And cried, A sail! a sail!
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
[Sidenote: A flash of joy;]
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in, 165
As they were drinking all.
[Sidenote: And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward
without wind or tide?]
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel! 170
The western wave was all a-flame.
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Bested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly 175
Betwixt us and the Sun.
[Sidenote: It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.]
And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face. 180
[Sidenote: And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting
Sun.]
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres?
[Sidenote: The Spectre-Woman and her Death-mate, and no other on board
the skeleton ship.]
Are those her ribs through which the Sun 185
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?
Is DEATH that woman’s mate?
[Sidenote: Like vessel, like crew!]
[Sidenote: Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship’s crew, and
she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.]
Her lips were red, her looks were free, 190
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man’s blood with cold.
The naked hulk alongside came, 195
And the twain were casting dice;
‘The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!’
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
[Sidenote: No twilight within the courts of the Sun.]
The Sun’s rim dips: the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark; 200
With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
[Sidenote: At the rising of the Moon.]
We listened and looked sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip! 205
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman’s face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip —
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The hornéd Moon, with one bright star 210
Within the nether tip.
[Sidenote: One after another,]
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye. 215
[Sidenote: His shipmates drop down dead.]
Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
[Sidenote: But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.]
The souls did from their bodies fly, — 220
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!
PART IV
[Sidenote: The Wedding-Guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him;]
‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand! 225
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
[Sidenote: But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and
proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.]
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
And thy skinny hand, so brown.’ —
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 230
This body dropt not down.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony. 235
[Sidenote: He despiseth the creatures of the calm,]
The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
[Sidenote: And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.]
I looked upon the rotting sea, 240
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 245
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 250
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
[Sidenote: But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.]
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me 255
Had never passed away.
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! 260
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
[Sidenote: In his loneliness 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.]
The moving Moon went up the sky,
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up, 265
And a star or two beside —
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;
But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,
The charméd water burnt alway 270
A still and awful red.
[Sidenote: By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God’s creatures of the
great calm.]
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
275
Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track 280
Was a flash of golden fire.
[Sidenote: Their beauty and their happiness.]
[Sidenote: He blesseth them in his heart.]
O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware: 285
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
[Sidenote: The spell begins to break.]
The self-same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank 290
Like lead into the sea.
PART V
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, 295
That slid into my soul.
[Sidenote: By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed
with rain.]
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. 300
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.
I moved, and could not feel my limbs: 305
I was so light — almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blesséd ghost.
[Sidenote: He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in
the sky and the element.]
And soon I heard a roaring wind:
It did not come anear; 310
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.
The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about! 315
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.
And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud; 320
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag, 325
A river steep and wide.
[Sidenote: The bodies of the ship’s crew are inspired [inspirited, S.
L.] and the ship moves on;]
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan. 330
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
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; 335
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. 340
The body of my brother’s son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
[Sidenote: 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 down by the
invocation of the guardian saint.]
‘I fear thee, ancient Mariner!’ 345
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
‘Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned — they dropped their arms,
And clustered round the mast; 351
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
Then darted to the Sun; 355
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are, 360
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now ‘twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel’s song, 365
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, 370
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship, 375
Moved onward from beneath.
[Sidenote: The lonesome Spirit from the south-pole carries on the ship
as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still
requireth vengeance.]
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. 380
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, 385
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: 390
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
[Sidenote: The Polar Spirit’s fellow-dæmons, 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.]
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned, 395
I heard and in my soul discerned
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 laid full low 400
The harmless Albatross.
The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.’ 405
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, ‘The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.’
PART VI
FIRST VOICE
‘But tell me, tell me! speak again, 410
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; 415
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 420
She looketh down on him.’
[Sidenote: The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic
power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could
endure.]
FIRST VOICE
‘But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?’
SECOND VOICE
‘The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind. 425
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,
When the Mariner’s trance is abated.’
[Sidenote: The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and
his penance begins anew.]
I woke, and we were sailing on 430
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: 435
All fixed 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, 440
Nor turn them up to pray.
[Sidenote: The curse is finally expiated.]
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 — 445
Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend 450
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade. 455
It raised my hair, it fanned 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, 460
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze —
On me alone it blew.
[Sidenote: And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.]
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see? 465
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
We drifted o’er the harbour-bar,
And I with sobs did pray —
O let me be awake, my God! 470
Or let me sleep alway.
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon. 475
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
[Sidenote: The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,]
And the bay was white with silent light, 480
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
[Sidenote: And appear in their own forms of light.]
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were: 485
I turned my eyes upon the deck —
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man, 490
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light; 495
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart —
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
But soon I heard the dash of oars, 500
I heard the Pilot’s cheer;
My head was turned perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.
The Pilot and the Pilot’s boy,
I heard them coming fast: 505
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third — I heard his voice:
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns 510
That he makes in the wood.
He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away
The Albatross’s blood.
PART VII
[Sidenote: The Hermit of the Wood,]
This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea. 515
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.
He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve —
He hath a cushion plump: 520
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.
The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,
‘Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair, 525
That signal made but now?’
[Sidenote: Approacheth the ship with wonder.]
‘Strange, by my faith!’ the Hermit said —
‘And they answered not our cheer!
The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere! 530
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, 535
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf’s young.’
‘Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look —
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared’—’Push on, push on!’ 540
Said the Hermit 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. 545
[Sidenote: The ship suddenly sinketh.]
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.
[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot’s boat.]
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, 550
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot’s boat. 555
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 560
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, 565
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, 570
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.
[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to
shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.]
‘O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!’
The Hermit crossed his brow. 575
‘Say quick,’ quoth he, ‘I bid thee say —
What manner of man art thou?’
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale; 580
And then it left me free.
[Sidenote: And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony
constraineth him to travel from land to land;]
Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns. 585
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. 590
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 hark the little vesper bell, 595
Which biddeth me to prayer!
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ‘twas, that God himself
Scarce seeméd there to be. 600
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
‘Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company! —
To walk together to the kirk, 605
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends
And youths and maidens gay!
[Sidenote: And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all
things that God made and loveth.]
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell 610
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small; 615
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest 620
Turned from the bridegroom’s door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn. 625
1797-1798.
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. [Note by S. T. C., first printed in
Sibylline Leaves.]
Title]
THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE.
In Seven Parts L. B. 1798: The
Ancient Mariner. A Poet’s Reverie L. B. 1800, 1802, 1805.
[Note. — The ‘Argument’ was omitted in L. B. 1802, 1805, Sibylline
Leaves, 1817, and in 1828, 1829, and 1834.]
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART I I L. B. 1798, 1800.
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER. IN SEVEN PARTS. S. L., 1828, 1829.
AND MARINER ‘MARINERE’ THROUGH OUT L. B. 1798.
[Between 8 and 13]
But still he holds the wedding guest —
There was a Ship, quoth he —
‘Nay, if thou’st got a laughsome tale,
Marinere, [Mariner! 1800] come with me.’
He holds him with his skinny hand —
Quoth he, there was a Ship —
Now get thee hence thou greybeard Loon!
Or my Staff shall make thee skip.
L. B. 1798, 1800.
[Between 40 and 55]
Listen, Stranger! Storm and Wind,
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 wondrous cauld;
And Ice mast-high came floating by
As green as Emerauld.
L. B. 1798.
[Between 40 and 51]
But now the Northwind came more fierce,
There came a Tempest strong!
And Southward still for days and weeks
Like Chaff we drove along.
L. B. 1800.
Lines 41-50 of the text were added in Sibylline Leaves, 1817. [Note.
The emendation in the marginal gloss, ‘driven’ for ‘drawn’ first appears
in 1893.]
the Errata.]
B. 1800.
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART II II L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER, PART
THE
SECOND, S. L. 1828, 1829.
MARINER’S L. B. 1800.
1800.
In the former editions the line was,
The furrow follow’d free:
But I had not been long on board a ship, before I perceived
that this was the image as seen by a spectator from the shore,
or from another vessel. From the ship itself, the Wake
appears like a brook flowing off from the stern. Note to S.
L. 1817.
[Between 143 and 149]
I saw a something in the sky
No bigger than my fist;
At first it seem’d, &c.
L. B. 1798.
[Between 143 and 147]
So past a weary time, each throat
Was parch’d and glaz’d each eye,
When looking westward, &c.
L. B. 1800.
[Lines 143-8 of the text in their present shape were added in Sibylline
Leaves, 1817.]
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART III III L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER, PART
THE THIRD, S. L. 1828, 1829.
L. 1817.
With throat unslack’d with black lips baked
Ne could we laugh, ne wail,
Then while thro’ drouth all dumb they stood
I bit my arm, and suck’d the blood
L. B. 1798.
She doth not tack from side to side —
Hither to work us weal.
Withouten wind, withouten tide
She steddies with upright keel.
L. B. 1798.
[Between 184-90]
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?
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.
L. B. 1798.
Are those her ribs which fleck’d the Sun
Like the bars of a dungeon grate?
And are those two all, all the crew
That woman and her mate?
MS. Correction of S. T. C. in L. B. 1798.
Are those her Ribs, thro’ which the Sun
Did peer as thro’ a grate?
And are those two all, all her crew,
That Woman, and her Mate?
His bones were black with many a crack
They were patch’d with purple and green.
L. B. 1800.
This Ship it was a plankless thing,
— A bare Anatomy!
A plankless spectre — and it mov’d
Like a Being of the Sea!
The woman and a fleshless man
Therein sate merrily.
His bones were black, &c. (as in 1800).
This stanza was found added in the handwriting of the Poet in the margin
of a copy of the Bristol Edition of Lyrical Ballads. It is here
printed for the first time. Note P. and D. W., 1877-80, ii. 36.
those] these Errata, L. B. 1798.
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.
L. B. 1798.
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were as yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
And she was far liker Death than he;
Her flesh made the still air cold.
L. B. 1800.
1844. The restoration of the text of 1798 and 1800 dates from 1852.
[Between 198-218]
A gust of wind sterte up behind
And whistled thro’ his bones;
Thro the { holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
{ hole L. B. 1802, 1805
Half-whistles and half-groans.
With never a whisper in the Sea
Off darts the Spectre-ship;
While clombe above the Eastern bar
The horned Moon with one bright Star
Almost atween the tips.
[Almost between the tips. L. B. 1800.]
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O Stranger! to me)
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,
L. B. 1798, 1800.
[Between 198-9] A gust of wind … half groans. S. L. (Page 15 erase
the second stanza. Errata, S. L., p. [xi].)
[Between 201-12]
With never a whisper on the main
Off shot the spectre ship;
And stifled words and groans of pain
Mix’d on each murmuring} lip.
trembling}
And we look’d round, and we look’d up,
And fear at our hearts, as at a cup,
The Life-blood seem’d to sip —
The sky was dull, and dark the night,
The helmsman’s face by his lamp gleam’d bright,
From the sails the dews did drip —
Till clomb above the Eastern Bar,
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within its nether tip.
Undated MS. correction of S. T. C. (first published 1893).
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART IV IV. L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER, PART
THE
FOURTH S. L. 1828, 1829.
ALONE ON THE WIDE WIDE SEA;
AND CHRIST WOULD TAKE NO PITY ON
L. B. 1798, 1800.
XI).
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART V V. L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER, PART
THE
FIFTH S. L. 1828, 1829.
The coming wind doth roar more loud;
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
L. B. 1798.
The strong wind reach’d the ship: it roar’d
And dropp’d down like a stone!
L. B. 1798.
[Between 344-5]
And I quak’d to think of my own voice
How frightful it would be!
L. B. 1798.
[Between 372-3]
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.’
Never sadder tale was told
To a man of woman born:
Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest!
Thoul’t rise to-morrow morn.
Never sadder tale was heard
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;
Thought I, I am as thin as air —
They cannot me behold.
L. B. 1798.
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART VI VI. L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER. PART
THE
SIXTH S. L. 1828, 1829.
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.
L. B. 1798.
[Between 475-80]
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
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,
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,
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.
There was no breeze upon the bay,
No wave against the shore.
L. B. 1798.
[Between 503-4]
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,
On me alone it blew.
L. B. 1798.
Then vanish’d all the lovely lights,
The spirits of the air,
No souls of mortal men were they,
But spirits bright and fair.
MS. Correction by S. T. C. in a copy of L. B. 1798.
RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER PART VII VII. L. B. 1798, 1800
THE RIME
OF
THE ANCIENT MARINER, PART
THE SEVENTH S. L. 1829: THE ANCIENT MARINER. PART THE SEVENTH 1828.
ERRATA, S. L. 1817, P. (XI).
Since then at an uncertain hour,
Now ofttimes and now fewer,
That anguish comes and makes me tell
My ghastly aventure.
L. B. 1798.
1798.