'But tell me, tell me ! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing -
What makes that ship drive on so fas?
What is the ocean doing?'
'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'.
The Mariner hath been
cast into a trance; for the
'But why drives on that ship so fast,
angelic power causeth the
Without or wave or wind?'
vessel to drive northward
faster than human life
'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
The supernatural motion is
As in a gentle weather:
retarded; the Mariner awakes,
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;
and his penance begins anew.
The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
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,
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 more
The curse is finally expiated.
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked 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 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,
Nor sound nor motion made:
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
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,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze -
On me alone it blew.
Oh! dream of joy ! is this indeed
And the ancient Mariner
The light-house top I see?
beholdeth his native country.
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 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 steeped in silentness
The steady weathercock.
And the bay was white with silent light,
The angelic spirits leave
Till rising from the same,
the dead bodies,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.
A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck -
Oh, Christ ! what saw I there!
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And appear in their own
And, by the holy rood!
forms of light.
A man all light, a seraph-man,
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;
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,
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 :
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
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.