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A most gentle Maid,
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home
Hard by the castle, and at latest eve
(Even like a Lady vow'd and dedicate
To something more than Nature in the grove)
Glides through the pathways; she knows all their

That gentle Maid ! and oft, a moment's space,
What time the moon was lost behind a cloud,
Hath heard a pause of silence ; till the moon

Emerging, hath awaken'd earth and sky
With one sensation, and those wakeful birds
Have all burst forth in choral minstrelsy,
As if some sudden gale had swept at once
A hundred airy harps !* And she hath watch'd
Many a nightingale perch giddily
On blosmy twig still swinging from the breeze,
And to that motion tune his wanton song
Like tipsy joy that reels with tossing head.

Farewell, O Warbler! till to-morrow eve, And you, my friends ! farewell, a short farewell ! We have been loitering long and pleasantly, And now for our dear homes.—That strain again ! Full fain it would delay me! My dear babe, Who, capable of no articulate sound, Mars all things with his imitative lisp, How he would place his hand beside his ear,

* As if one quick and sudden gale had swept An hundred airy harps !



His little hand, the small forefinger up,
And bid us listen! And I deem it wise
To make him Nature's playmate. He knows well
The evening star; and once, when he awoke
In most distressful mood (some inward pain
Had made up that strange thing, an infant's dream),
I hurried with him to our orchard-plot,
And he beheld * the moon, and, hush'd at once,
Suspends his sobs, and laughs most silently,
While his fair eyes, that swam with undropp'd tears,
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well !
It is a father's tale : But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate joy.—Once more, farewell,
Sweet Nightingale ! once more, my friends ! fare-



* Beholds.—1798.





How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancient Mariner came back to his own Country.


An ancient Mariner meeteth three gallants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth

IT is an ancient Mariner,

And he stoppeth one of three. “ By thy long grey beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me ? I


* Ancyent Marinere, in the title and throughout the text, 1798. In the edition of 1800, The Ancient Mariner, a Poet's Reverie.

† First printed in Lyrical Ballads, Bristol, 1798, and again in the enlarged London editions of 1800, 1802, and 1805. I “ By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye

Now wherefore stoppest me?"-1798.

“The Bridegroom's doors are open'd wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set :
May'st hear the merry din."

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He holds him with his skinny hand,
“There was a ship,” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!"
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.*

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

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The wedding guest is spellbound by the eye of the old sea-faring man, and constrained to hear his tale.

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

“The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd, Merrily did we drop

* But still he holds the wedding-guest

“There was a Ship," quoth he-
Nay, if thou'st got a laughsome tale,

Mariner ! 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.”—1798.

Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top.

The Mariner
tells how the
ship sailed
with a good
wind and fair
weather, till
it reached the

“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 wedding guest heareth the bridal music; but the mariner continueth his tale.

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 ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

The ship drawn by a storm toward the south pole.

*" And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong :

* Listen, Stranger ! Storm and Wind,

A Wind and Tempest strong!
For days and weeks it play'd us freaks

Like chaff we drove along.
Listen, Stranger ! Mist and Snow,

And it grew wondrous cauld : &c.—1798.

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