Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, "God save thee, ancient Mariner! The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen. PART II. HE Sun now rose upon the right: Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down 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 had done a hellish thing, For all averred, I had killed the bird Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, Then all averred, I had killed the bird 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, 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 themselves ac complices in the crime. The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line. The ship hath been suddenly becalmed. And the Albatross begins to be avenged. The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, We were the first that ever burst Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, And we did speak only to break All in a hot and copper sky, Right up above the mast did stand, Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion; Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere, 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 And some in dreams assured were Of the spirit that plagued us so; Nine fathom deep he had followed us A spirit had of this planet, parted souls nor angels; 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. And every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks PART III. HERE passed a weary time. Each throat How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, It moved and moved, and took at last 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 round his neck. The ancient holdeth a off. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Through utter drought all dumb we stood! And cried, A sail! a sail! With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Gramercy! they for joy did grin, And all at once their breath drew in, See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! Without a breeze, without a tide, The western wave was all a-flame. When that strange shape drove suddenly And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, As if through a dungeon-grate he peered Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Are those her ribs through which the Sun And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a Death? and are there two? Her lips were red, her looks were free, The naked hulk alongside came, The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out : We listened and looked sideways up! 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 clomb above the eastern bar The horned Moon, with one bright star Within the nether tip. D And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. The spectrewoman and her deathmate, and no other on board the skeletonship. Like vessel, like crew! Death and Life-inDeath have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner. No twilight within the courts of the sun. At the rising of the Moon. |