The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 198

They groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose, Ne spake, ne mov'd their eyes: It had been strange, even in a dream 325 To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steer'd, the ship mov'd on; Yet never a breeze up-blew; The Marineres all 'gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do: 330 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, 335 But he said nought to me-- And I quak'd to think of my own voice How frightful it would be!

The day-light dawn'd--they dropp'd their arms, And cl.u.s.ter'd round the mast: 340 Sweet sounds rose slowly thro' their mouths And from their bodies pa.s.s'd.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the sun: Slowly the sounds came back again 345 Now mix'd, now one by one.

Sometimes a dropping from the sky I heard the Lavrock sing; Sometimes all little birds that are How they seem'd to fill the sea and air 350 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. 355

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 360 Singeth a quiet tune.

Listen, O listen, thou Wedding-guest!

"Marinere! thou hast thy will: "For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make "My body and soul to be still." 365

Never sadder tale was told To a man of woman born: Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest!

Thou'lt rise to-morrow morn.

Never sadder tale was heard 370 By a man of woman born: The Marineres all return'd to work As silent as beforne.

The Marineres all 'gan pull the ropes, But look at me they n'old: 375 Thought I, I am as thin as air-- They cannot me behold.

Till noon we silently sail'd on Yet never a breeze did breathe: Slowly and smoothly went the ship 380 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. 385 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 390 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: 395 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, 400 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 405 "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. 410

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, 415 "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: 420 "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 425 "She looketh down on him.

FIRST VOICE.

"But why drives on that ship so fast "Withouten wave or wind?

SECOND VOICE.

"The air is cut away before, "And closes from behind. 430

"Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high, "Or we shall be belated: "For slow and slow that ship will go, "When the Marinere's trance is abated."

I woke, and we were sailing on 435 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: 440 All fix'd on me their stony eyes That in the moon did glitter.

The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never pa.s.s'd away: I could not draw my een from theirs 445 Ne turn them up to pray.

And in its time the spell was snapt, And I could move my een: I look'd far-forth, but little saw Of what might else be seen. 450

Like one, that on a lonely 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 455 Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breath'd a wind on me, Ne sound ne motion made: Its path was not upon the sea In ripple or in shade. 460

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, 465 Yet she sail'd softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze-- On me alone it blew.

O dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? 470 Is this the Hill? Is this the Kirk?

Is this mine own countree?

We drifted o'er the Harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray-- "O let me be awake, my G.o.d! 475 "Or let me sleep alway!"

The harbour-bay was clear as gla.s.s, So smoothly it was strewn!

And on the bay the moon light lay, And the shadow of the moon. 480

The moonlight bay was white all o'er, Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, Like as of torches came.

A little distance from the prow 485 Those dark-red shadows were; But soon I saw that my own flesh Was red as in a glare.