And a good south-wind sprung up behind; Water, water, every where, The Albatross did follow, And every day, for food or play, Came to the Mariner's hollo! And all the boards did shrink; Water water, every where, Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night; Burnt green, and blue and white. The water, like a witch's oils, And some in dreams assured were And every tongue, through utter drought, We could not speak, no more than if And the good south-wind still blew behind, Ah! well a-day! what evil looks But no sweet bird did follow, Had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung. And I had done an hellish thing, For all averred, I had killed the bird Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay That made the breeze to blow! 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. III. THERE passed a weary time. Each throat A weary time! a weary time! "Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, A something in the sky. That bring the fog and mist. The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, At first it seem'd a little speck, The furrow stream'd off free: We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. And then it seem'd a mist: It moved and moved, and took at last A certain shape, I wist. SYBILLINE LEAVES. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! With throat unslak'd, with black lips baked, We listen'd and look'd sideways up! The stars were dim, and thick the night, From the sails the dews did drip- One after one, by the star-dogg'd Moon With throat unslak'd, with black lips baked, Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang, See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! The western wave was all a-flame. When that strange shape drove suddenly And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Four times fifty living men, The souls did from their bodies fly,— And every soul, it passed me by, IV. I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner! And thou art long, and lank, and brown, I fear thee and thy glittering eye, Are those her ribs through which the Sun This body dropt not down. Did peer, as through a grate? Her lips were red, her looks were free, The naked hulk alongside came, And the twain were casting dice; The game is done! I've, I've won! Quoth she, and whistles thrice. The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out: Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! The many men, so beautiful! And a thousand thousand slimy things I look'd upon the rotting sea, I look'd to Heaven, and tried to pray; The silly buckets on the deck, That had so long remained, 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 I dreamt that they were filled with dew; 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 But oh! more horrible than that The moving Moon went up the sky, Her beams bemock'd the sultry main, Beyond the shadow of the ship, They moved in tracks of shining white, Within the shadow of the ship Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, O happy living things! no tongue A spring of love gusht from my heart, The self same moment I could pray; V. OH SLEEP! it is a gentle thing, To Mary Queen the praise be given! And when I awoke, it rained. My lips were wet, my throat was cold, Sure I had drunken in my dreams, I moved, and could not feel my limbs : I thought that I had died in sleep, And soon I heard a roaring wind: But with its sound it shook the sails, The upper air burst into life! And the coming wind did roar more loud, The Moon was at its edge. The thick black cloud was cleft, and still Like waters shot from some high crag, The loud wind never reached the ship, They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose, The helmsman steered, the ship moved on; The mariners all 'gan work the ropes, They raised their limbs like lifeless tools The body of my brother's son The body and I pulled at one rope, I fear thee, ancient Mariner! Is it he? quoth one, is this the man? With his cruel bow he laid full low, The spirit who bideth by himself For when it dawned-they dropped their In the land of mist and snow, The Sun, right up above the mast, But in a minute she 'gan stir, He loved the bird that loved the man Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high! Backwards and forwards half her length, For slow and slow that ship will go, With a short uneasy motion. Then like a pawing horse let go, How long in that same fit I lay, When the Mariner's trance is abated. I woke, and we were sailing on "Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high; All stood together on the deck, The pang, the curse, with which they died, I could not draw my eyes from theirs, And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green, And looked far forth, yet little saw Like one, that on a lonesome road And, having once turn'd round, walks on, But soon there breathed a wind on me, It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house-top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own countree? We drifted o'er the harbour-bar, The harbour-bay was clear as glass, And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, The moonlight steeped in silentness And the bay was white with silent light, Full many shapes, that shadows were, A little distance from the prow Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, A man all light, a seraph-man, This seraph-band, each waved his hand: They stood as signals to the land, This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice; but oh! the silence sank But soon I heard the dash of oars, The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy, I saw a third-I heard his voice: He singeth loud his godly hymns That he makes in the wood. He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away The Albatross's blood. VII. THIS Hermit good lives in that wood He kneels at morn, and noon and eve- It is the moss that wholly hides The skiff-boat near'd: I heard them talk: Where are those lights so many and fair, Strange, by my faith! the Hermit said- I never saw ought like to them, Brown skeletons of leaves that lag When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish ́look— I am a-feared-Push on, push on! |
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