Coleridge's Ancient Mariner and Select Poems

"Work Without Hope" was written, Coleridge says, "on the 21st February, 1827," and was first printed in 1828.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

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.

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 spellbound 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 harbor 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 mariners' 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  'T was 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,  'T was 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 assured 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;]

[Sidenote: And horror follows. For can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide?]

  Gramercy! they for joy did grin,  And all at once their breath drew in, 165  As they were drinking all.  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  Rested 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  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: And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. The Spectre-Woman and her Deathmate, 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!]

  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.

[Sidenote: Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.]

  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 horned 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.  I fear thee and thy glittering eye,  And thy skinny hand, so brown."—  "Fear me not, fear not, thou wedding-guest! 230  This body dropt not down.

[Sidenote: But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.]

  Alone, alone, all, all alone,  Alone on the 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  Had never passed away.  An orphan's curse would drag to hell  A spirit from on high;  But oh! more horrible than that  Is a curse in a dead man's eye!  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 nowhere did abide:  Softly she was going up,  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 charmed water burnt alway  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  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 selfsame 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 blessed 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, 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 daemons 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!  'T was 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; 350  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, 350  How they seemed to fill the sea and air  With their sweet jargoning!  And now 't was 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-daemons, 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.'

FIRST VOICE

[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.]

  '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:  'T was 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 harbor-bar,  And I with sobs did pray—  O let me be awake, my God! 470  Or let me sleep alway.  The harbor-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.  And the bay was white with silent light 480  Till rising from the same,

[Sidenote: The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies,]

  Full many shapes, that shadows were,  In crimson colors 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.]