The bodies of the ship's

crew are

inspirited, and the ship

moves on;

The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To to 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 pour'd 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 reach'd the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on !‡
Beneath the lightning and the moon
The dead men gave a groan.

They groan'd, they stirr'd, 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 stars dance on between.-1798.

† Hark! hark! the thick black cloud is cleft.—Ib.
The strong wind reach'd the ship: it roar'd
And dropp'd down, like a stone !—Ib.

The helmsman steer'd, 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 pull'd 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 dawn'd t-they dropp'd their

arms,

And cluster'd round the mast;

Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,

And from their bodies pass'd.

But not by

the souls of
the men, nor
by demons of
earth or
middle air,
but by a
blessed troop
of angelic
spirits, sent
down by the
invocation of
the guardian
saint.

* This stanza continues thus in the edition of 1798 :-
"And I quaked to think of my own voice

How frightful it would be !"

The subsequent stanza was added in the edition of 1800.-ED.

+ The day-light dawn'd.-1798.

Around, around, flew each sweet sound,

Then darted to the Sun;

Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mix'd, now one by one.

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark* sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seem'd 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, O listen, thou Wedding-Guest!

"Mariner! thou hast thy will :

For that which comes out of thine eye doth

make

My body and soul to be still."

* I heard the lavrock sing.-1798.

Never sadder tale was told

To a man of woman born:

Sadder and wiser thou Wedding-Guest !

Thou'lt rise to-morrow morn.

Never sadder tale was heard

By a man of woman born:

The Mariners all return'd to work

As silent as beforne.

The Mariners 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 quietly sail'd 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 lonesome spirit from the southpole carries on the ship as far as the line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.

*The above four stanzas only appear in the edition

of 1798.-ED.

†Till noon we silently sail'd on.-1798.

The Polar Spirit's fellow-demons, the invisible inhabitants of the element, take part in his wrong; and two of them relate, one to the other, that penance long and heavy for the ancient Mariner hath been accorded to the Polar

Spirit, who returneth southward.

The Sun, right up above the mast,

Had fix'd 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 down in a swound.*

How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare ;

But ere my living life return'd,
I heard, and in my soul discern'd
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:

* And I fell into a swound.-1798.