Classic Poem

Ode 1.22

LETS THE ANCIENT MARINER PARAPHRASE IT

He liveth best who loveth best
All virtues great and small,
And neither knife nor heavy strife
Shall make him fear at all.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
In lonely lands though he may be,
He shall not lift his voice in moan
But it shall have a pleasant tone,
Like a blessèd melody.
O listen well and I shall tell
The reason of my rime.
Know then, while walking it befell
I wandered through a little dell,
Singing away the time.
When huge and weird a wolf appeared,
The while my singing ceased;
He looked me up, he looked me down,
And, like a wave of living brown,
With one stride came the beast.
Without a breath, without a pause,
I sang her name full clear.
And seized with dread the monster fled;
He saw about my shining head
A stronger thing than fear …
He liveth best who loveth best
All things, below, above.
So, Fuscus, call, the first of all
And last of all, on Love!