In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch'd for vespers nine;

returned northward, through fog

Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke and floating

white,

Glimmer'd the white moon-shine."

"God save thee, ancient Mariner ! From the fiends, that plague thee thus !Why look'st thou so?". "With

cross-bow

I shot the Albatross !

ice.

The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the

my

pious bird of good omen

PART II.

"THE sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left

Went down into the sea.

1

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 had done a hellish thing,
And it would work 'em woe;
For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That made the breeze to blow.

Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay
That made the breeze to blow!

1 The right.] They have doubled Cape Horn.

M

His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.

But when the fog cleared

off, they justify the same, and thus make them

selves accomplices in the

crime.

The fair

breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails north

ward, even till

it reaches the

Line.

The ship hath

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious sun uprist:

1

Then all averr'd, I had kill'd 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 2 follow'd 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

been suddenly The silence of the sea!

becalmed,

All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody sun, at noon,

Uprist.] It certainly, as has been pointed out in The Athenæum, 1883,-seems as though Coleridge intended "uprist" to mean "uprose." It is really a noun. See Chaucer's Knightes Tale, 1. 193:

"And in the gardin at the sonne uprist

She walketh up and doun."

2 Furrow, &c.] We have here the original reading, restored in 1828. In Sybilline Leaves it had been altered

to

"The furrow stream'd off free,"

with the following note :

"I had not been long on board a ship, before I perceived that this was the image as seen by a spectator from the shore, or from another vessel. From the ship itself the Wake appears like a brook flowing off from the stern."

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.

Water, water, every where,

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 follow'd us,
From the land of mist and snow.

And the Albatross begins to be avenged.

A spirit had followed them; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls

And every tongue, through utter drought, nor angels;

Was wither'd at the root;

We could not speak, no more than if

We had been choked with soot.

concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan,

Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no

climate or element without one or more.

The shipmates,

in their sore distress, would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird

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

round his neck.

PART III.

The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.

At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a dear ransom he

freeth his

speech from

"THERE pass'd a weary time.

throat

Was parch'd, 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 seem'd a little speck,
And then it seem'd a mist:

Each

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:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tack'd and veer'd.

With throats unslaked, with black lips
baked,

We could nor laugh nor wail;

Through utter drought all dumb we stood!

1 As if, &c.]

"And as if, &c."-1817.

The omission

was made in 1828.

I bit my arm, I suck'd 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!
Hither1 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 fleck'd with It seemeth

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?

him but the skeleton of a

ship.

1 Hither, &c.] We are disposed to think there should be commas after "hither" and "weal."