A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw : It was an Abyssinian maid, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, Such punishments, I said, were due To know and loath, yet wish and do. And whom I love, I love indeed. THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER. IN SEVEN PARTS. THE PAINS OF SLEEP. ERE on my bed my limbs I lay, In humble trust mine eyelids close, No wish conceived, no thought express'd! A sense o'er all my soul imprest But yesternight I pray'd aloud Of shapes and thoughts that tortured me: And whom I scorn'd, those only strong! For all seem'd guilt, remorse, or wo, So two nights pass'd: the night's dismay The third night, when my own loud scream Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? et gradus et cognationes et discri mina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt? quæ loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit inge nium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens assuefacta hodiernæ vitæ minutiis se contrahat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilan dum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus.-T. BURNET: Archaol. Phil. p. 68. In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, The mariner tells The sun came up upon the left, how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the line. The wedding. Out of the sea came he! And he shone bright, and on the right Whiles all the night, through fog- Higner and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon smoke white, Glimmer'd the white moonshine. "God save thee, ancient mariner! The wedding-guest here beat his From the fiends that plague thee thus! breast, For he heard the loud bassoon. The bride hath paced into the hall, rest heareth the Red as a rose is she; bridal masie; but Be mariner continueth his tale. Nodding their heads before her goes The wedding-guest he beat his breast, Yet he cannot choose but hear; The ancient mari ner inhospitably killeth the pious Why look'st thou so?"-With my bird of good cross-bow I sho the ALBATROSS. PART II. THE SUN now rose upon the right: Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew The ship drawn And now the STORM-BLAST came, and But no sweet bird did follow, by a storm toward the south pole. he Was tyrannous and strong; Nor any day for food or play He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And I had done an hellish thing, With sloping masts and dripping prow, And it would work 'em wo: omen His shipmates cry out against the ancient mariner, for killing the bird of good-luck. The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, But when the fog blast, And southward aye we fled. The glorious sun uprist: cleared off, they justify the same, Then all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird and thus make And now there came both mist and That brought the fog and mist. snow, And it grew wondrous cold; themselves accomplices in the 'Twas right, said they, such birds to crime. And ice, mast-high, came floating by, That bring the fog and mist. 'Twas sad as sad could be ; And we did speak only to break It crack'd and growl'd, and roar'd and 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. Day after day, day after day, Water, water, everywhere, The very deep did rot: O Christ! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs been suddenly becalmed. And the albatrood begins to be avenged. (Heaven's mother send us grace!) As if through a dungeon-grate he peer'd With broad and burning face. Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud,) And every tongue, through utter How fast she nears and nears! drought, Was wither'd at the root; sun, We could not speak, no more than if Like restless gossamers? The ancient ma. sign in the ele riner beholdeth a ment afar off. Instead of the cross, the albatross About my neck was hung. PART III. THERE pass'd a weary time. Each Was parch'd, and glazed each eye. At first it seem'd a little speck It moved and moved, and took at last A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! At its nearer ap. With throats unslaked, with black proach, it seem eth him to be a lips baked, A flash of joy. stood; I bit my arm, I suck'd the blood, And cried, A sail! a sail! but the skeleten of a ship. We listen'd and look'd sideways up! At the rising of Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seem'd to sip! The stars were dim, and thick the night, The steersman's face by his lamp With throats unslaked, with black From the sails the dew did drip lips baked, Agape they heard me call; And horror fol- See! see! (I cried,) she tacks no lows; for can it be a ship, that comes onward without wind or tide? more ! Hither to work us weal; Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel! The western wave was all a flame, The day was wellnigh done, Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright sun; Till clomb above the eastern bar The horned moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip. the moon, But Life-in-Death The souls did from their bodies fly, Her beams bemock'd the sultry main, begins her work on the ancient They fled to bliss or wo! horrible penance. Alone, alone, all, all alone, And never a saint took pity on He despiseth the The many men, so beautiful! creatures of the calm. And a thousand thousand slimy things And enrieth that I look'd upon the rotting sea, I look'd to heaven, and tried to pray; I closed my lids, and kept them close, and the sky, Lay like a load on my weary eye But the curse liv- The cold sweat melted from their limbs, [me Nor rot nor reek did they : I watch'd their rich attire ; 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 A spring of love gush'd from my heart, And I bless'd them unaware: The selfsame moment I could pray; PART V. O SLEEP! it is a gentle thing, To Mary queen the praise be given ! The silly buckets on the deck, calm. Their beauty and their happiness. He blesseth them in his heart. The spell begins to break. By grace of the holy mother, the ancient mariner I dreamt that they were fill'd with is refreshed with dew; And when I awoke it rain'd. My lips were wet, my throat was cold, An orphan's curse would drag to hell And still my body drank. rain. He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and But with its sound it shook the sails, commotions in That were so thin and sere. The upper air burst into life! For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to Mr. Wordsworth. It was on a delightful walk from Nether And the coming wind did roar more Stowey to Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the autumn of 1797 that this poem was planned, and in part composed. loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; the sky and the element. And the rain pour'd down from one It ceased; yet still the sails made on black cloud; The moon was at its edge. A pleasant noise till noon, A noise like of a hidden brook The thick black cloud was cleft, and That to the sleeping woods all night still The moon was at its side: Like waters shot from some high crag, Singeth a quiet tune. Till noon we quietly sailed on, The bodies of the The loud wind never reach'd the Under the keel nine fathom deep, ship's crew are inspired, and the shin moves on. ship, Yet now the ship moved on! Beneath the lightning and the moon From the land of mist and snow, The lonesome spirit from the south pole carries on the ship as far as the line, in obedience to the The sails at noon left off their tune, angelic troop, but They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all And the ship stood still also. uprose, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; The sun, right up above the mast, The helmsman steer'd, the ship moved Backwards and forwards half her on ; Yet never a breeze up blew ; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, tools We were a ghastly crew. The body of my brother's son But not by the "I fear thee, ancient mariner!" nor by demons of Be calm, thou wedding-guest: length With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound. How long in that same fit I lay, But ere my living life return'd, I heard and in my soul discern'd still requireth vengeance. The polar spirits fellow damous, the invisible iphabitants of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to the “Is it he?” quoth one," is this the other, that pes man? earth or middle 'Twas not those souls that fled in By Him who died on cross, ance long and heavy for the ancient mariner hath been accord ed to the polar spirit, who re turneth southward |