The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
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.
It is an ancient Mariner,1
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long grey beard and glittering eye
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?
An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.
“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,9
“There was a ship”, quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye—13
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will.
The wedding-guest is spell-bound by the eye of the old sea-faring man, and constrained to hear his tale.
The wedding-guest sat on a stone:17
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,21
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light house top.
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,29
Till over the mast at noon—
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride hath paced into the hall,33
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The wedding-guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner continueth his tale.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,37
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
And now the storm-blast came, and he41
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
The ship drawn by a storm toward the south pole.
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.
And now there came both mist and snow,51
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
And through the drifts the snowy clifts55
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,59
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
At length did cross an Albatross,63
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name.
Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality.
It ate the food it ne’er had eat,67
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;71
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner’s hollo!
And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating ice.
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.
“God save thee, ancient Mariner!79
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look’st thou so?”— With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.
The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen.
The Sun now rose upon the right:83
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,87
But no sweet bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the mariners’ hollo!
And I had done an hellish thing,91
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,
That made the breeze to blow!
His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.
Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head,97
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.
’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime.
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,103
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.
The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,107
’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,111
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.
Water, water, every where,119
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
And the Albatross begins to be avenged.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!123
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout127
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch’s oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.
And some in dreams assured were131
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
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 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.
Ah! well a-day! what evil looks139
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
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.
There passed a weary time.143
Each throat was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.
At first it seemed a little speck,149
And then it seemed a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!153
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,157
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,
And cried, A sail! a sail!
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,162
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.
A flash of joy;
See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!167
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!
And horror follows.
For can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide?
The western wave was all a-flame.171
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 straight the Sun was flecked with bars,177
(Heaven’s Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.
It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)181
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres?
Are those her ribs through which the Sun185
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?
And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. The spectre-woman and her death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton- ship.
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.
Like vessel, like crew!
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.
Death and Life-in- Death have diced for the ships crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.
The Sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out:199
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
No twilight within the courts of the sun.
We listened and looked sideways up!203
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steerman’s face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip—
Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.
At the rising of the Moon,
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,212
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.
One after another,
Four times fifty living men,216
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
His ship-mates drop down dead.
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!
But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.
“I fear thee, ancient Mariner!224
I fear thy skinny hand!
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
The wedding-guest feareth that a Spirit is talking to him;
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,228
And thy skinny hand, so brown.”—
Fear not, fear not, thou wedding-guest!
This body dropt not down.
But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,232
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
The many men, so beautiful!236
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
He despiseth the creatures of the calm,
I looked upon the rotting sea,240
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;244
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
I closed my lids, and kept them close,248
And 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,253
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.
But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.
An orphan’s curse would drag to hell257
A spirit from on high;
But oh! 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,263
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside
In his loneliness and fixedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere 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.
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,267
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,272
I watched the water-snakes:
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God’s creatures of the great calm.
Within the shadow of the ship277
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue282
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gushed from my heart,
And I blessed them unaware:
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.
Their beauty and their happiness.
He blesseth them in his heart.
The self-same moment I could pray;288
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
The spell begins to break.
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,292
Beloved 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,297
That had so long remained,
I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
And when I awoke, it rained.
By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,301
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 blessed ghost.
And soon I heard a roaring wind:309
It did not come anear;
But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sere.
He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.
The upper air burst into life!313
And a hundred fire-flags sheen ,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,
The wan stars danced between.
And the coming wind did roar more loud,318
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black cloud;
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still322
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 reached the ship,327
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
The bodies of the ship’s crew are inspired, and the ship moves on;
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,331
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.
The body of my brother’s son341
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
“I fear thee, ancient Mariner!”345
’Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
But not by the souls of the men, nor by demons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint.
For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,350
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet sound,354
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky358
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now ’twas like all instruments,363
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angels song,
That makes the heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on367
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 quietly sailed on,373
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,377
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 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.
The Sun, right up above the mast,383
Had fixed 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,389
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,393
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.
“Is it he?” quoth one, “Is this the man?398
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low
The harmless Albatross.
The Polar Spirits fellow-demons, 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.
“The spirit who bideth by himself402
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved the man
Who shot him with his bow.”
The other was a softer voice,406
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, “The man hath penance done,
And penance more will do.”
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?
Still as a slave before his lord,414
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;418
For she guides him smooth or grim.
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.
But why drives on that ship so fast,422
Without or wave or wind?
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
The Mariner hath been cast into a trance; for the angelic power causeth the vessel to drive northward faster than human life could endure.
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!426
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 on430
As in a gentle weather:
’Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
The dead men stood together.
The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew.
All stood together on the deck,434
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,438
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
And now this spell was snapt: once more442
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen—
The curse is finally expiated.
Like one, that on a lonesome road446
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
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me,452
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek456
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.
Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed464
The light-house top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?
And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country.
We drifted o’er the harbour-bar,468
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,472
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,476
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,480
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies
A little distance from the prow484
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!
And appear in their own forms of light.
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,488
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:492
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light;
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,496
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,504
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third—I heard his voice:508
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
The Albatross’s blood.
This Hermit good lives in that wood514
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.
The Hermit of the wood,
He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve— 519
He hath a cushion plump:
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,
That signal made but now?”
“Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said—527
“And they answered not our cheer!
The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were
Approacheth the ship with wonder.
“Brown skeletons of leaves that lag533
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf’s young.”
“Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look— 538
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared”—“Push on, push on!”
Said the Hermit cheerily.
The boat came closer to the ship,542
But I nor spake nor stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.
Under the water it rumbled on,546
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;
The ship went down like lead.
The ship suddenly sinketh.
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.
The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot’s boat.
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,556
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
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,564
Who now doth crazy go,
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.
“O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!”574
The Hermit crossed his brow.
“Say quick”, quoth he, “I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?”
The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched578
With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
Since then, at an uncertain hour,582
That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.
And ever and anon through out his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land;
I pass, like night, from land to land;586
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.
What loud uproar bursts from that door!591
The wedding-guests are there:
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 been597
Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely ’twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,601
’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!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell610
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.
And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.
He prayeth best, who loveth best614
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.”
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,618
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom’s door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,622
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.