SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE.

SYBILLINE LEAVES.

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,

MARINER.

IN SEVEN PARTS.

Merrily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house-top.

The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he;

And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

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 ? quæ loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabula, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens as-The wedding-guest here beat his breast,

suefecta hodiernæ vitæ minutiis se contrahat ni

mis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinBURNET, Archæol. Phil.

guamus.

I.

Ir is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.

By thy long gray beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopst thou me?

The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide,
And I am next of kin;

The guests are met, the feast is set:
Mayet hear the merry din.

He holds him with his skinny hand,
There was a ship, quoth he.
Hold off! unhand me, gray-beard loon!
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye—
The wedding-guest stood still,
And listens like a three years child:
The Mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sat on a stone:
He can not chuse but hear;

And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon-

For he heard the loud bassoon.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The wedding-guest he beat his breast,
Yet he can not chuse but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

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,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and 'snow,
And it grew wonderous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clift
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:

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, "Twas sad as sad could be;

It cracked and growled,and roar'd and howl'd, | And we did speak only to break

Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an Albatross :
Thorough the fog it came;

As if it had been a Christian soul,
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 steer'd us through!

The silence of the sea!

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,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion,
As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

And a good south-wind sprung up behind; Water, water, every where,

The Albatross did follow,

And every day, for food or play,
Came to the Mariner's hollo!

And all the boards did shrink;
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
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.

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,
Was wither'd at the root;

We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choak'd with soot.

And the good south-wind still blew behind, Ah! well a-day! what evil looks

But no sweet bird did follow,

Had I from old and young!

Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.

And I had done an 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
That made the breeze to blow!

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.

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.

III.

THERE passed a weary time. 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 fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, At first it seem'd a little speck,

The furrow stream'd off free:

We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.

And then it seem'd a mist:

It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
And still it near'd and near'd:
And as if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tack'd and veer'd.

With throat unslak'd, 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,
And cried: A sail! a sail!

We listen'd and look'd sideways up!
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seem'd to sip!

The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd
white;

From the sails the dews did drip—
Till clombe above the eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogg'd Moon

With throat unslak'd, with black lips baked, Too quick for groan or sigh,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,

And all at once their breath drew in,
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 steddies with upright keel!

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
Betwixt us and the Sun.

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peer'd,
With broad and burning face.

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!

Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang,
And curs'd me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

The souls did from their bodies fly,-
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whiz of my CROSS-BOW!

IV.

I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!

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 not, fear not, thou wedding-guest!

Are those her ribs through which the Sun This body dropt not down.

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?

Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mair LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
The game is done! I've, I've won!
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark;
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.

Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things
Liv'd on; and so did I.

I look'd upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;

I look'd upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I look'd to Heaven, and tried to pray;
But ere ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.

For when it dawned-they dropped their In the land of mist and snow,