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A POET’S REVERIE.

By Samuel Taylor Coleridge

ARGUMENT.

How a Ship, having first sailed to the Equator, was driven by Storms, to the cold Country towards the South Pole; how the Ancient Mariner cruelly, and in contempt of the laws of hospitality, killed a Seabird; and how he was followed by many and strange Judgements; and in what manner he came back to his own Country.

THE ANCIENT MARINER.

A POET’S REVERIE.

I.

It is an ancient Mariner,

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

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—”

”Nay, if thou’st got a laughsome tale,

Mariner! 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.”

He holds him with his glittering eye —

The wedding guest stood still

And listens like a three year’s child;

The Mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sate on a stone,

He cannot chuse but hear:

And thus spake on that ancient man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.

The Ship was cheer’d, the Harbour clear’d —

Merrily did we drop

Below the Kirk, below the Hill,

Below the Lighthouse top.

The Sun came up upon the left,

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 —

The wedding-guest here beat his breast,

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.

The wedding-guest he beat his breast,

Yet he cannot chuse but hear:

And thus spake on that ancient Man,

The bright-eyed Mariner.

But now the Northwind came more fierce,

There came a Tempest strong!

And Southward still for days and weeks

Like Chaff we drove along.

And now there came both Mist and Snow,

And it grew wond’rous cold;

And Ice mast-high came floating by

As green as Emerald.

And thro’ the drifts the snowy clifts

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:

It crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d —

A wild and ceaseless sound.

At length did cross an Albatross,

Thorough the Fog it came;

As if it had been a Christian Soul,

We hail’d it in God’s name.

The Mariners gave it biscuit-worms,

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;

And every day for food or play

Came to the Mariner’s hollo!

In mist or cloud on mast or shroud

It perch’d for vespers nine,

Whiles all the night thro’ fog-smoke white

Glimmer’d the white moonshine.

”God save thee, ancient Mariner!

From the fiends that plague thee thus—”

”Why look’st thou so? — with my cross bow

I shot the Albatross.”

II:

The Sun now rose upon the right,

Out of the Sea came he;

Still hid in mist; and on the left

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 Mariner’s hollo!

And I had done an hellish thing

And it would work e’m woe:

For all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird

That made the Breeze to blow.

Nor dim nor red, like an Angel’s head,

The glorious Sun uprist:

Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird

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:

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

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,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion,

As idle as a painted Ship

Upon a painted Ocean.

Water, water, every where

And all the boards did shrink;

Water, water, every where,

Nor any drop to drink.

The very deeps did rot: O Christ!

That ever this should be!

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.

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.

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

Had I from old and young;

Instead of the Cross the Albatross

About my neck was hung.

III.

So past a weary time; each throat

Was parch’d, and glaz’d each eye,

When, looking westward, I beheld

A something in the sky.

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!

And still it near’d and near’d;

And, as if it dodg’d a water-sprite,

It plung’d and tack’d and veer’d.

With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d

We could nor laugh nor wail;

Thro’ utter drouth all dumb we stood

Till 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 heard me call:

Gramercy! they for joy did grin

And all at once their breath drew in

As they were drinking all.

See! See! (I cry’d) she tacks no more!

Hither to work us weal

Without a breeze, without a tide

She steddies with upright keel!

The western wave was all a flame,

The day was well nigh done!

Almost upon the western wave

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)

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 nears and nears!

Are those her Sails that glance in the Sun

Like restless gossameres?

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,

All black and bare, I ween;

Jet-black and bare, save where with rust

Of mouldy damps and charnel crust

They were patch’d with purple and green.

Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks were 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.

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

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;

While clombe above the Eastern bar

The horned Moon, with one bright Star

Almost between the tips.

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,

With heavy thump, a lifeless lump

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.

IV.

”I fear thee, ancient Mariner!

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

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;

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

Liv’d on — and so did I.

I look’d upon the rotting Sea,

And drew my eyes away;

I look’d upon the ghastly deck,

And there the dead men lay.

I look’d to Heaven, 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,

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,

Nor rot, nor 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:

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

And no where did abide:

Softly she was going up

And a star or two beside —

Her beams bemock’d the sultry main

Like April hoar-frost spread;

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:

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:

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:

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 selfsame moment I could pray;

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!

To Mary-queen the praise be given

She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck

That had so long remain’d,

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

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.

And soon I heard a roaring wind,

It did not come anear;

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;

And to and fro, and in and out

The wan stars danc’d between.

And the coming wind did roar more loud;

And the sails did sigh like sedge:

And the rain pour’d down from one black cloud

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

A river steep and wide.

The loud wind never reach’d the Ship,

Yet now the Ship mov’d on!

Beneath the lightning and the moon

The dead men gave a groan.

They groan’d; they stirr’d, they all uprose,

Nor spake, nor mov’d their eyes:

It had been strange, even in a dream

To have seen those dead men rise,

The helmsman steerd, the ship mov’d on;

Yet never a breeze up-blew;

The Mariners all gan work the ropes,

Where they were wont to do:

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,

But he said nought to me.

”I fear thee, ancient Mariner!”

”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 dawn’d — they dropp’d their arms,

And cluster’d round the mast:

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

Now mix’d, now one by one.

Sometimes a dropping from the sky

I heard the Skylark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are

How they seem’d 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

That makes the heavens be mute.

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,

Singeth a quiet tune.

Till noon we silently sail’d on

Yet never a breeze did breathe:

Slowly and smoothly went the Ship

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.

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

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:

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,

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

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.”

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,

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:

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

She looketh down on him.”

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.”

”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.”

I woke, and we were sailing on

As in a gentle weather:

’Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;

The dead men stood together.

All stood together on the deck,

For a charnel-dungeon fitter:

All 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 eyes from theirs

Nor turn them up to pray.

And now this spell was snapt: once more

I view’d the ocean green,

And look’d far forth, yet little saw

Of what had else been seen.

Like one, that on a lonesome road

Doth walk in fear and dread,

And having once turn’d round, walks on

And turns no more his head:

Because he knows, a frightful fiend

Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breath’d a wind on me,

Nor sound nor motion made:

Its path was not upon the sea

In ripple or in shade.

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

Yet she sail’d softly too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze —

On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed

The lighthouse top I see?

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!

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.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less:

That stands above the rock:

The moonlight steep’d in silentness

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.