Samuel Coleridge - The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition)

And there the dead men lay.

I look’d to Heaven, and try’d to pray;

But or ever a prayer had gusht,

A wicked whisper came and made

My heart as dry as dust.

I clos’d my lids and kept them close,

Till the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky

Lay like a load on my weary eye,

And the dead were at my feet.

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,

Ne rot, ne reek did they;

The look with which they look’d on me,

Had never pass’d away.

An orphan’s curse would drag to Hell

A spirit from on high:

But O! more horrible than that

Is the curse in a dead man’s eye!

Seven days, seven nights I saw that curse

And yet I could not die.

The moving Moon went up the sky

And no where did abide:

Softly she was going up

And a star or two beside —

Her beams bemock’d the sultry main

Like morning frosts yspread;

But where the ship’s huge shadow lay,

The charmed water burnt alway

A still and awful red.

Beyond the shadow of the ship

I watch’d the water-snakes:

They mov’d in tracks of shining white;

And when they rear’d, the elfish light

Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship

I watch’d their rich attire:

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black

They coil’d and swam; and every track

Was a flash of golden fire.

O happy living things! no tongue

Their beauty might declare:

A spring of love gusht from my heart,

And I bless’d them unaware!

Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

And I bless’d them unaware.

The selfsame moment I could pray;

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.

V.

O sleep, it is a gentle thing

Belov’d from pole to pole!

To Mary-queen the praise be yeven

She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

That slid into my soul.

The silly buckets on the deck

That had so long remain’d,

I dreamt that they were fill’d with dew

And when I awoke it rain’d.

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 mov’d and could not feel my limbs,

I was so light, almost

I thought that I had died in sleep,

And was a blessed Ghost.

The roaring wind! it roar’d far off,

It did not come anear;

But with its sound it shook the sails

That were so thin and sere.

The upper air bursts into life,

And a hundred fire-flags sheen

To and fro they are hurried about;

And to and fro, and in and out

The stars dance on between.

The coming wind doth roar more loud;

The sails do sigh, like sedge:

The rain pours down from one black cloud

And the Moon is at its edge.

Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft,

And the Moon is at its side:

Like waters shot from some high crag,

The lightning falls with never a jag

A river steep and wide.

The strong wind reach’d the ship: it roar’d

And dropp’d down, like a stone!

Beneath the lightning and the moon

The dead men gave a groan.

They groan’d, they stirr’d, they all uprose,

Ne spake, ne mov’d their eyes:

It had been strange, even in a dream

To have seen those dead men rise.

The helmsman steerd, the ship mov’d on;

Yet never a breeze up-blew;

The Marineres all ‘gan work the ropes,

Where they were wont to do:

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,

But he said nought to me —

And I quak’d to think of my own voice

How frightful it would be!

The daylight dawn’d — they dropp’d their arms,

And cluster’d round the mast:

Sweet sounds rose slowly thro’ their mouths

And from their bodies pass’d.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the sun:

Slowly the sounds came back again

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

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 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

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.”

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

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:

Thought I, I am as thin as air —

They cannot me behold.

Till moon we silently sail’d on

Yet never a breeze did breathe:

Slowly and smoothly went the ship

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.

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

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 into a swound.

How long in that same fit I lay,

I have not to declare;

But ere my living life return’d,

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

”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.”

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,

”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.

“But why drives on that ship so fast

”Withouten 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 Marinere’s trance is abated.”

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.