History of Literature





 

 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

"The Rime of the Ancient Mariner"

 

Illustrations by Gustave Dore

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner IN SEVEN PARTS Illustrations by Gustave Doré     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, That slid into my soul.   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.   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: I was so light--almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost.     Plate 19: The moving Moon went up to the Sky   He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and in the element. And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; 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! 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; 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, A river steep and wide.   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.     Plate 20: I watched the water-snakes   The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on. 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; 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 son Stood by me, knee to knee: The body and I pulled at one rope, But he said nought to me.     Plate 21: The rain poured down from one black cloud   But not by the souls of the men, nor by daemons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troupe of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint. "I fear thee, ancient Mariner!" "Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! 'Twas 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; Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, And from their bodies passed.   Around, around, flew each sweet sound, Then darted to the Sun; 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, How they seemed to fill the sea and air 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.   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, 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, Moved onward from beneath.     Plate 22: They all uprose   The lonesome Spirit from the south pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic toop, but still requireth vengance. 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. 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, 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: It flung the blood into my head, And I fell down in a swound.     Plate 23: The sails made on a pleasant noise   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 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, 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 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.'   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, 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; 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.'      First Voice     Plate 24: I fell down in a swound   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.   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.'     Plate 25: Two voices in the air   The supernatural motion is retarded; the Mariner awakes, and his penance begins anew. I woke, and we were sailing on 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: 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.     Plate 26: Without wave or wind   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--   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.     Plate 27: The shadow of the moon   And the ancient Mariner beholdeth his native country. 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, 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, Till rising from the same, THe moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock.     Plate 28: In crimson colors came   The angelic spirits leave the dead bodies, A little distance from the prow 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, And, by the holy rood! 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.   Plate 29: A heavenly sight   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.   Plate 30: The skiff-boat nears