Twas an ancient Mariner, with a beard long and gray, and an eye that glittered like a doubloon. He clutched one of three lads passin' by.
"By yer long gray beard and glitterin' eye, tell me, why d'ye stop me, ye old sea dog?" cried the lad.
"The Bridegroom's doors swing wide, and I be next of kin! The jolly guests are met, the feast is set, ye can hear the merry din!"
The Mariner, with a bony hand, held him fast. "There was a ship," quoth he.
"Avast there! Let go o' me, ye gray-beard loon!" But too late, the Mariner's grip was cast off.
Yet, he held him with his glittering eye, and the Wedding-Guest stood still as a statue, listenin' like a three-year-old babe. The Mariner had his way.
The Wedding-Guest, he plopped himself down on a stone, for he had no choice but to hear. And thus spake on that ancient man, the bright-eyed Mariner.
The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared, and merrily did we drop below the kirk, below the hill, below the light-house top.
The Sun himself came up from the left, risin' from the sea! And he shone bright, and on the right, he dipped back into the waves.
Higher and higher every day, 'til over the mast at noon! The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, for he heard the loud bassoon.
The bride, she paced into the hall, red as a rose, she be! Nodding their heads before her went the merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest, he beat his breast once more, yet he couldn't but hear. And thus spake on that ancient man, the bright-eyed Mariner.
And now the STORM-BLAST came, a tyrannical and mighty foe! He struck with his o'ertaking wings, and chased us south along.
With masts a-slopin' and prow a-dippin', like one pursued with yell and blow, still treadin' the shadow of his foe, and forward bendin' his head. The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, and southward aye we fled!
And then came both mist and snow, and it grew wondrous cold! And ice, mast-high, came floatin' by, as green as a pirate's emerald!
And through the drifts, the snowy clifts sent a dismal sheen. No shapes of men nor beasts could 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 in a swound!
At last, an Albatross did cross our path! Through 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 eaten, 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, it came to the mariners' hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, it perched for vespers nine. While all the night, through fog-smoke white, glimmered the white Moon-shine.
"God save ye, ancient Mariner! From the fiends that plague ye thus! Why look'st thou so?" With my cross-bow, I shot the ALBATROSS!
The Sun, he now rose upon the right: out o' the sea he came, still hid in mist, and on the left, he dipped back into the sea.
And the good south wind still blew behind, but no sweet bird did follow. Nor any day for food or play came to the mariners' hollo!
And I, the scallywag, had done a hellish thing, and it would bring 'em woe! For all averred, I had killed the bird that made the breeze to blow. "Ah, ye wretch!" said they, "The bird to slay that made the breeze to blow!"
Neither 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."
The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, the furrow followed free. We were the first that ever burst into that silent sea!
Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped 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, neither breath nor motion! As idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean.
Water, water, every where, and all the boards did shrink! Water, water, every where, nor any drop to drink!
The very deep did rot: By the beard of Neptune! 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 were sure 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 withered at the root. We could not speak, no more than if we had been choked with soot.
Ahoy! What evil looks had I from old and young! Instead of the cross, the Albatross about my neck was hung.
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.
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 neared and neared! As if it dodged a water-sprite, it plunged and tacked and veered.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, we could not laugh nor wail! Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, and cried, "A sail! A sail!"
With throats 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!
"See! See!" (I cried) "She tacks no more! Hither to work us weal! Without a breeze, without a tide, she steadies 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 peered, 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!
Are those her ribs through which the Sun 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-Mare 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 won! 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.
We listened and looked sideways up! Fear at my heart, as at a cup, my life-blood seemed to sip!
The stars were dim, and thick the night, the steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white. From the sails the dew 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-dogged Moon, too quick for groan or sigh, each turned his face with a ghastly pang, and cursed me with his eye.
Four times fifty living men, (and I heard neither 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 whizz of my CROSS-BOW!
"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!" cried the Wedding-Guest. "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!" quoth I. "This body dropt not down!"
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 lived on; and so did I.
I looked upon the rotting sea, and drew my eyes away. I looked upon the rotting deck, and there the dead men lay.
I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray. But before 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, and 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, nor rot nor 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 a 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 April hoar-frost spread. 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 gushed 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.
Oh, sleep! 'Tis 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.
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.
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.
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.
"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!