Classic Poem

I

It is an ancyent marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three:
" By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye
Now wherefore stoppest me?

The bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set —
Mayst hear the merry din."

But still he holds the wedding-guest:
" There was a ship", quoth he —
" Nay, if thou'st got a laughsome tale,
Marinere, come with me!"

He holds him with his skinny hand,
Quoth he, " There was a ship — "
" Now get thee hence, thou grey-beard loon,
Or my staff shall make thee skip!"

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

The wedding-guest sat on a stone,
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancyent man,
The bright-eyed marinere:

" The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse 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.

Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon — "
The wedding-guest here beat his breast,
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 cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancyent man,
The bright-eyed marinere.

" Listen, stranger! Storm and wind,
A wind and tempest strong!
For days and weeks it played us freaks —
Like chaff we drove along.

Listen, stranger! Mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cauld:
And ice mast-high came floating by
As green as emerauld.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen;
Ne shapes of men ne beasts we ken —
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around;
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled
Like noises of a swound.

At length did cross an albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
And an it were a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God's name.

The marineres gave it biscuit-worms,
And round and round it flew:
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through.

And a good south wind sprung up behind,
The albatross did follow;
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the marineres' hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine,
Whiles all the night, through fogsmoke white,
Glimmered the white moonshine."

" God save thee, ancyent marinere,
From the fiends that plague thee thus!
Why look'st thou so?" " With my crossbow
I shot the albatross.

II

The sun came up upon the right,
Out of the sea came he;
And broad as a weft upon the left
Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind,
But no sweet bird did follow,
Ne any day for food or play
Came to the marineres' hollo!

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.

Ne dim ne 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. "

The breezes blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free:
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be,
And we did speak only to break
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, ne breath ne motion,
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, everywhere,
Ne any drop to drink.

The very deeps did rot: oh 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 drouth,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross the albatross
About my neck was hung.

III

I saw a something in the sky
No bigger than my fist;
At first it seemed a little speck
And then it seemed 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 nered and nered:
And an it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

With throat unslaked, with black lips baked,
Ne could we laugh, ne wail;
Then while through drouth all dumb they stood,
I bit my arm, and sucked the blood,
And cried, " A sail! A sail! "

With throat unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call:
Gramercy! they for joy did grin
And all at once their breath drew in
As they were drinking all.

She doth not tack from side to side
Hither to work us weal;
Withouten wind, withouten 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 strait the sun was flecked with bars
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face.

Alas! thought I, and my heart beat loud,
How fast she neres and neres!
Are those her sails that glance in the sun
Like restless gossameres?

Are these her naked ribs, which flecked
The sun that did behind them peer?
And are these two all, all the crew,
That woman and her fleshless pheere?

His bones were black with many a crack,
All black and bare, I ween;
Jet black and bare, save where with rust
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
They're patched with purple and green.

Her lips are red, her looks are free,
Her locks are yellow as gold;
Her skin is as white as leprosy,
And she is far liker death than he,
Her flesh makes the still air cold.

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

A gust of wind sterte up behind
And whistled through his bones;
Through the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
Half-whistles and half-groans.

With never a whisper in the sea
Off darts the spectre-ship;
While clombe above the eastern bar
The horned moon, with one bright star
Almost atween the tips.

One after one by the horned moon
(Listen, oh stranger, to me!)
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang
And cursed me with his ee.

Four times fifty living men,
With never a sigh or groan,
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

Their souls did from their bodies fly,
They fled to bliss or woe;
And every soul, it passed me by
Like the whiz of my crossbow."

IV

" I fear thee, ancyent marinere,
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,
This body dropt not down.

Alone, alone, all all alone,
Alone on the wide wide sea;
And Christ would take no pity on
My soul in agony.

The many men so beautiful,
And they all dead did lie!
And a million million slimy things
Lived on — and so did I.

I looked upon the rotting sea
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the eldritch deck,
And there the dead men lay.

I looked to heaven and tried to pray
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came and made
My heart as dry as dust.

I closed 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 looked on me
Had never passed away.

An orphan's curse would drag to hell
A spirit from on high;
But oh! 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 nowhere did abide;
Softly she was going up
And a star or two beside;

Her beams bemocked 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 watched the water-snakes;
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam, and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.

Oh happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:
A spring of love gusht from my heart
And I blessed them unaware!
Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
And I blessed them unaware.

The self-same moment I could pray,
And from my neck so free
The albatross fell off and sank
Like lead into the sea.

V

Oh sleep, it is a gentle thing
Beloved 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 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.

The roaring wind — it roared 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 reached the ship, it roared
And dropped down like a stone!
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Ne spake, ne 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 breezeup-blew;
The marineres 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 —
And I quaked to think of my own voice,
How frightful it would be!

The daylight 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 lavrock 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 —

Listen, oh 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 tomorrow morn!

Never sadder tale was heard
By a man of woman born;
The marineres all returned 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 noon we silently sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe;
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved 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 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 into a swound.

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. " "

VI

First V OICE

But tell me, tell me! speak again,
Thy soft response renewing —
What makes that ship drive on so fast?
What is the ocean doing?

S ECOND V OICE

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 V OICE

But why drives on that ship so fast
Withouten wave or wind?

S ECOND V OICE

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.

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 een from theirs
Ne turn them up to pray.

And in its time the spell was snapt
And I could move my een;
I looked far forth but little saw
Of what might else be seen —

Like one that on a lonely 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,
Ne sound ne 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
The lighthouse 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,
" Oh 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 moonlight bay was white all o'er
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes that shadows were
Like as of torches came.

A little distance from the prow
Those dark red shadows were;
But soon I saw that my own flesh
Was red as in a glare.

I turned my head in fear and dread
And by the holy rood,
The bodies had advanced, and now
Before the mast they stood.

They lifted up their stiff right arms,
They held them strait and tight;
And each right arm burnt like a torch,
A torch that's borne upright.
Their stony eyeballs glittered on
In the red and smoky light.

I prayed and turned my head away
Forth looking as before;
There was no breeze upon the bay,
No wave against the shore.

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
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 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.

Eftsones I heard the dash of oars,
I heard the pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away
And I saw a boat appear.

Then vanished all the lovely lights,
The bodies rose anew;
With silent pace each to his place
Came back the ghastly crew.
The wind that shade nor motion made,
On me alone it blew.

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' blood.

VII

This hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea;
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.

He kneels at morn, and noon and eve,
He hath a cushion plump;
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump

The skiff-boat nered, I heard them talk:
" Why, this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now? "

" Strange, by my faith! " the hermit said,
" And they answered not our cheer!
The planks look warped, and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them
Unless perchance it were.

The skeletons of leaves that lag
My forest brook along,
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below
That eats the she-wolf's young. "

" Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look " ,
The pilot made reply,
" I am a-feared. " " Push on, push on! "
Said the hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship
But I ne spake ne stirred;
The boat came close beneath the ship
And strait a sound was heard!

Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread;
It reached the ship, it split the bay —
The ship went down like lead.

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned,
My body lay afloat;
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl where sank the ship
The boat spun round and round,
And all was still, save that the hill
Was telling of the sound.

I moved my lips — the pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy hermit raised his eyes
And prayed where he did sit.

I took the oars; the pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro:
" Ha! ha! " quoth he, " full plain I see
The Devil knows how to row. "

And now all in my own countree
I stood on the firm land!
The hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.

" Oh shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man! "
The hermit crossed his brow.
" Say quick " , quoth he, " I bid thee say
What manner man art thou? "

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale —
And then it left me free.

Since then, at an uncertain hour,
Now oft-times and now fewer,
That anguish comes and makes me tell
My ghastly aventure.

I pass, like night, from land to land,
I have strange power of speech;
The moment that his face I see
I know the man that must hear me —
To him my tale I teach.

What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there
But in the garden bower the bride
And bridemaids singing are;
And hark, the little vesper bell
Which biddeth me to prayer.

Oh wedding-guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea;
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.

Oh sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me
To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company!

To walk together to the kirk
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends,
And youths and maidens gay.

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest!
He prayeth well who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best who loveth best
All things both great and small,
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

The marinere, whose eye is bright,
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone; and now the wedding-guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
He rose the morrow morn.