As I came thro' Sandgate,Thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate,As I came thro' SandgateI heard a lassie sing,O weel may the keel row,The keel row, the keel row,O weel may the keel row,That my laddie's in.O wha's like my Johnny,Sae leith, sae blythe, sae bonny?He's foremost among the monyKeel lads o' coaly Tyne:He'll set and row so tightly,Or in the dance—so sprightly—He'll cut and shuffle sightly;'Tis true,—were he not mine.He wears a blue bonnet,Blue bonnet, blue bonnet;He wears a blue bonnet,—And a dimple in his chin:And weel may the keel row,The keel row, the keel row;And weel may the keel row,That my laddie's in.
As I came thro' Sandgate,Thro' Sandgate, thro' Sandgate,As I came thro' SandgateI heard a lassie sing,O weel may the keel row,The keel row, the keel row,O weel may the keel row,That my laddie's in.
O wha's like my Johnny,Sae leith, sae blythe, sae bonny?He's foremost among the monyKeel lads o' coaly Tyne:He'll set and row so tightly,Or in the dance—so sprightly—He'll cut and shuffle sightly;'Tis true,—were he not mine.
He wears a blue bonnet,Blue bonnet, blue bonnet;He wears a blue bonnet,—And a dimple in his chin:And weel may the keel row,The keel row, the keel row;And weel may the keel row,That my laddie's in.
Oh where, and oh where, is your Highland laddie gone?He's gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne;And it's oh, in my heart, how I wish him safe at home!Oh where, and oh where, does your Highland laddie dwell?He dwells in merry Scotland, at the sign of the Blue Bell;And it's oh, in my heart, that I love my laddie well.In what clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad?His bonnet's of the Saxon green, his waistcoat's of the plaid;And it's oh, in my heart, that I love my Highland lad.Suppose, oh, suppose that your Highland lad should die?The bagpipes shall play over him, and I'll lay me down and cry;And it's oh, in my heart, I wish he may not die.
Oh where, and oh where, is your Highland laddie gone?He's gone to fight the French for King George upon the throne;And it's oh, in my heart, how I wish him safe at home!
Oh where, and oh where, does your Highland laddie dwell?He dwells in merry Scotland, at the sign of the Blue Bell;And it's oh, in my heart, that I love my laddie well.
In what clothes, in what clothes is your Highland laddie clad?His bonnet's of the Saxon green, his waistcoat's of the plaid;And it's oh, in my heart, that I love my Highland lad.
Suppose, oh, suppose that your Highland lad should die?The bagpipes shall play over him, and I'll lay me down and cry;And it's oh, in my heart, I wish he may not die.
The Laird o' Cockpen he's proud an' he's great,His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the State;He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.Doon by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,At his table-head he thocht she'd look well;M'Cleish's ae dochter, o' Clavers-ha' Lee,A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.His wig was weel pouther'd, as gude as when new;His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;He put on a ring, a sword, an' cocked hat,An' wha could refuse the Laird wi' a' that?He took the grey mare, he rade cannilie,An' rapped at the yett o' Clavers-ha' Lee;'Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,—She's wanted to speak wi' the Laird o' Cockpen.'Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flow'r wine;'An' what brings the Laird at sic a like time?'She put aff her apron, an' on her silk goon,Her mutch wi' red ribbons, an' gaed awa' doon.An' when she cam' ben he bowèd fu' low,An' what was his errand he soon let her know;Amazed was the Laird when the lady said 'Na!'An' wi' a laigh curtsie she turnèd awa'!Dumfounder'd was he, but nae sigh did he gi'e,He mounted his mare an' he rade cannilie;An' often he thocht, as he gaed through the glen,'She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen!'
The Laird o' Cockpen he's proud an' he's great,His mind is ta'en up wi' the things o' the State;He wanted a wife his braw house to keep,But favour wi' wooin' was fashious to seek.
Doon by the dyke-side a lady did dwell,At his table-head he thocht she'd look well;M'Cleish's ae dochter, o' Clavers-ha' Lee,A penniless lass wi' a lang pedigree.
His wig was weel pouther'd, as gude as when new;His waistcoat was white, his coat it was blue;He put on a ring, a sword, an' cocked hat,An' wha could refuse the Laird wi' a' that?
He took the grey mare, he rade cannilie,An' rapped at the yett o' Clavers-ha' Lee;'Gae tell Mistress Jean to come speedily ben,—She's wanted to speak wi' the Laird o' Cockpen.'
Mistress Jean she was makin' the elder-flow'r wine;'An' what brings the Laird at sic a like time?'She put aff her apron, an' on her silk goon,Her mutch wi' red ribbons, an' gaed awa' doon.
An' when she cam' ben he bowèd fu' low,An' what was his errand he soon let her know;Amazed was the Laird when the lady said 'Na!'An' wi' a laigh curtsie she turnèd awa'!
Dumfounder'd was he, but nae sigh did he gi'e,He mounted his mare an' he rade cannilie;An' often he thocht, as he gaed through the glen,'She's daft to refuse the Laird o' Cockpen!'
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';Wha'll buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth?When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,Dreamed ye aught o' our puir fellows,Darkling as they faced the billows,A' to fill the woven willows?Buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're no brought here without brave darin';Buy my caller herrin',Hauled thro' wind and rain.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin';Wives and mithers, maist despairin',Ca' them lives o' men.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...When the creel o' herrin' passes,Ladies, clad in silks and laces,Gather in their braw pelisses,Cast their heads, and screw their faces.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...Caller herrin's no got lightlie,Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie;Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin',Gow has set you a' a-singin'.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...Neebour wives, now tent my tellin',When the bonnie fish ye're sellin',At ae word be in yer dealin'—Truth will stand when a' thing's failin'.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're bonnie fish and halesome farin'Wha'll buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth?
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're bonnie fish and halesome farin';Wha'll buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth?
When ye were sleepin' on your pillows,Dreamed ye aught o' our puir fellows,Darkling as they faced the billows,A' to fill the woven willows?Buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth.
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're no brought here without brave darin';Buy my caller herrin',Hauled thro' wind and rain.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...
Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?Oh, ye may ca' them vulgar farin';Wives and mithers, maist despairin',Ca' them lives o' men.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...
When the creel o' herrin' passes,Ladies, clad in silks and laces,Gather in their braw pelisses,Cast their heads, and screw their faces.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...
Caller herrin's no got lightlie,Ye can trip the spring fu' tightlie;Spite o' tauntin', flauntin', flingin',Gow has set you a' a-singin'.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?...
Neebour wives, now tent my tellin',When the bonnie fish ye're sellin',At ae word be in yer dealin'—Truth will stand when a' thing's failin'.Wha'll buy my caller herrin'?They're bonnie fish and halesome farin'Wha'll buy my caller herrin',New drawn frae the Forth?
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,The darling of our crew;No more he'll hear the tempest howling,For death has broach'd him to.His form was of the manliest beauty,His heart was kind and soft,Faithful, below, he did his dutyBut now he's gone aloft.Tom never from his word departed,His virtues were so rare;His friends were many and true-hearted,His Poll was kind and fair:And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,Ah, many's the time and oft!But mirth is turned to melancholy,For Tom is gone aloft.Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,When He, who all commands,Shall give, to call life's crew together,The word to pipe all hands.Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches,In vain Tom's life has doff'd,For, though his body's under hatches,His soul has gone aloft.
Here, a sheer hulk, lies poor Tom Bowling,The darling of our crew;No more he'll hear the tempest howling,For death has broach'd him to.His form was of the manliest beauty,His heart was kind and soft,Faithful, below, he did his dutyBut now he's gone aloft.
Tom never from his word departed,His virtues were so rare;His friends were many and true-hearted,His Poll was kind and fair:And then he'd sing so blithe and jolly,Ah, many's the time and oft!But mirth is turned to melancholy,For Tom is gone aloft.
Yet shall poor Tom find pleasant weather,When He, who all commands,Shall give, to call life's crew together,The word to pipe all hands.Thus Death, who kings and tars despatches,In vain Tom's life has doff'd,For, though his body's under hatches,His soul has gone aloft.
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tearThe mainmast by the board;My heart with thoughts of thee, my dear,And love, well stored,Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear,The roaring winds, the raging sea,In hopes on shoreTo be once moreSafe moor'd with thee!Aloft while mountains high we go,The whistling winds that scud along,And surges roaring from below,Shall my signal be,To think on thee,And this shall be my song:Blow high, blow low.And on that night when all the crewThe mem'ry of their former livesO'er flowing cans of flip renew,And drink their sweethearts and their wives,I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee;And, as the ship rolls through the sea,The burthen of my song shall be—Blow high, blow low.
Blow high, blow low, let tempests tearThe mainmast by the board;My heart with thoughts of thee, my dear,And love, well stored,Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear,The roaring winds, the raging sea,In hopes on shoreTo be once moreSafe moor'd with thee!
Aloft while mountains high we go,The whistling winds that scud along,And surges roaring from below,Shall my signal be,To think on thee,And this shall be my song:Blow high, blow low.
And on that night when all the crewThe mem'ry of their former livesO'er flowing cans of flip renew,And drink their sweethearts and their wives,I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee;And, as the ship rolls through the sea,The burthen of my song shall be—Blow high, blow low.
And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman,Who at Blackfriars Bridge us'd for to ply,And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity,Winning each heart and delighting each eye.He look'd so neat and row'd so steadily,The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily,And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,That this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.What sights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry,'Twas cleaned out so nice and so painted withall,He always was first oars when the fine city ladies,In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall.And oft-times would they be giggling and leering,But 'twas all one to Tom their jibing and jeering,For loving or liking he little did care,For this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.And yet but to see how strangely things happen,As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all,He was ply'd by a damsel so lovely and charming,That she smil'd, and so straightway in love he did fall.And would this young damsel e'en banish his sorrow,He'd wed her to-night, before even to-morrow,And how should this Waterman ever know care,When he's married and never in want of a fare?
And did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman,Who at Blackfriars Bridge us'd for to ply,And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity,Winning each heart and delighting each eye.He look'd so neat and row'd so steadily,The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily,And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,That this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
What sights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry,'Twas cleaned out so nice and so painted withall,He always was first oars when the fine city ladies,In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall.And oft-times would they be giggling and leering,But 'twas all one to Tom their jibing and jeering,For loving or liking he little did care,For this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.
And yet but to see how strangely things happen,As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all,He was ply'd by a damsel so lovely and charming,That she smil'd, and so straightway in love he did fall.And would this young damsel e'en banish his sorrow,He'd wed her to-night, before even to-morrow,And how should this Waterman ever know care,When he's married and never in want of a fare?
PART I
An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.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?The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,And I am next of kin;The guests are met, the feast is set:May'st hear the merry din.'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.The Wedding-Guest is spellbound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.He holds him with his glittering eye—The Wedding-Guest stood still,And listens like a three years' child:The Mariner hath his will.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 cheered, the harbour cleared,Merrily did we dropBelow the kirk, below the hill,Below the lighthouse top.The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line.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 goesThe 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 heWas tyrannous and strong:He struck with his o'ertaking wings,And chased us south along.With sloping masts and dipping prow,As who pursued with yell and blowStill treads the shadow of his foeAnd forward bends his head,The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,And southward aye we fled.And now there came both mist and snow,And it grew wondrous cold:And ice, mast-high, came floating by,As green as emerald.The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing was to be seen.And through the drifts the snowy cliftsDid send a dismal sheen:Nor shapes of men nor beasts 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!Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitalityAt length did cross an Albatross:Thorough 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 eat,And round and round it flew.The ice did split with a thunder-fit;The helmsman steered us through!And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward, through fog and floating ice.And a good south wind sprung up behind;The Albatross did follow,And every day, for food or play,Came to the mariners' hollo!In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,It perched for vespers nine;Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,Glimmered the white moon-shine.'The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen.'God save thee, ancient Mariner!From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—Why look'st thou so?'—'With my cross-bowI shot the Albatross!
An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.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?
The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,And I am next of kin;The guests are met, the feast is set:May'st hear the merry din.'
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.
The Wedding-Guest is spellbound by the eye of the old seafaring man, and constrained to hear his tale.He holds him with his glittering eye—The Wedding-Guest stood still,And listens like a three years' child:The Mariner hath his will.
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 cheered, the harbour cleared,Merrily did we dropBelow the kirk, below the hill,Below the lighthouse top.
The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather, till it reached the Line.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 goesThe merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner continueth his tale.
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 heWas tyrannous and strong:He struck with his o'ertaking wings,And chased us south along.
The ship drawn by a storm toward the south pole.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,As who pursued with yell and blowStill treads the shadow of his foeAnd forward bends his head,The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,And southward aye we fled.
And now there came both mist and snow,And it grew wondrous cold:And ice, mast-high, came floating by,As green as emerald.
The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing was to be seen.And through the drifts the snowy cliftsDid send a dismal sheen:Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—The ice was all between.
The land of ice, and of fearful sounds, where no living thing was to be seen.
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!
Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitalityAt length did cross an Albatross:Thorough the fog it came;As if it had been a Christian soul,We hailed it in God's name.
Till a great sea-bird, called the Albatross, came through the snow-fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality
It ate the food it ne'er had eat,And round and round it flew.The ice did split with a thunder-fit;The helmsman steered us through!
And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward, through fog and floating ice.And a good south wind sprung up behind;The Albatross did follow,And every day, for food or play,Came to the mariners' hollo!
And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward, through fog and floating ice.
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,It perched for vespers nine;Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,Glimmered the white moon-shine.'
The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen.'God save thee, ancient Mariner!From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—Why look'st thou so?'—'With my cross-bowI shot the Albatross!
The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the 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 leftWent 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!His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.And I had done a hellish thing,And it would work 'em woe;For all averred, I had killed the birdThat made the breeze to blow."Ah wretch," said they, "the bird to slay,That made the breeze to blow!"But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime.Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,The glorious Sun uprist:Then all averred, I had killed the birdThat brought the fog and mist."'Twas right," said they, "such birds to slay,That bring the fog and mist."The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow streamed off free:We were the first that ever burstInto that silent sea.The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,'Twas sad as sad could be;And we did speak only to breakThe 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, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean.And the Albatross begins to be avenged.Water, water, everywhere,And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, everywhere,Nor any drop to drink.The very deep did rot: O ChristThat ever this should be!Yea, slimy things did crawl with legsUpon the slimy sea.About, about, in reel and routThe death-fires danced at night;The water, like a witch's oils,Burnt green, and blue, and white.A spirit had followed them: one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed 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 some in dreams assurèd wereOf the spirit that plagued us so:Nine fathom deep he had followed usFrom the land of mist and snow.And every tongue, through utter drought,Was withered at the root;We could not speak, no more than ifWe had been choked with soot.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.Ah! well a-day! what evil looksHad I from old and young!Instead of the cross, the AlbatrossAbout my neck was hung.
'The Sun now rose upon the right:Out of the sea came he,Still hid in mist, and on the leftWent 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!
His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.And I had done a hellish thing,And it would work 'em woe;For all averred, I had killed the birdThat made the breeze to blow."Ah wretch," said they, "the bird to slay,That made the breeze to blow!"
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 accomplices in the crime.Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,The glorious Sun uprist:Then all averred, I had killed the birdThat brought the fog and mist."'Twas right," said they, "such birds to slay,That bring the fog and mist."
But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime.
The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean and sails northward, even till it reaches the Line.The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow streamed off free:We were the first that ever burstInto that silent sea.
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.Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,'Twas sad as sad could be;And we did speak only to breakThe silence of the sea!
The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.
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, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted ocean.
And the Albatross begins to be avenged.Water, water, everywhere,And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, everywhere,Nor any drop to drink.
And the Albatross begins to be avenged.
The very deep did rot: O ChristThat ever this should be!Yea, slimy things did crawl with legsUpon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and routThe death-fires danced at night;The water, like a witch's oils,Burnt green, and blue, and white.
A spirit had followed them: one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed 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.
A spirit had followed them: one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed 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 some in dreams assurèd wereOf the spirit that plagued us so:Nine fathom deep he had followed usFrom the land of mist and snow.
And every tongue, through utter drought,Was withered at the root;We could not speak, no more than ifWe had been choked with soot.
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.Ah! well a-day! what evil looksHad I from old and young!Instead of the cross, the AlbatrossAbout my neck was hung.
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.
PART III
'Here passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each eye.A weary time! a weary time!How glazed each weary eye!The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.When looking westward I beheldA something in the sky.At first it seemed a little speck,And then it seemed a mist:It moved and moved, and took at lastA 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.At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,We could nor 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:A flash of joy.Gramercy! they for joy did grin,And all at once their breath drew in,As they were drinking all.And horror follows. For can it be ashipthat comes onward without wind or tide?"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 waveRested the broad bright Sun;When that strange shape drove suddenlyBetwixt us and the Sun.It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.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?And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.Are those her ribs through which the SunDid peer, as through a grate?And is that Woman all her crew?The spectre-woman and her death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship.Is that aDeath? and are there two?IsDeaththat woman's mate?Like vessel, like crew!Her lips were red, her looks were free,Her locks were yellow as gold:Her skin was as white as leprosy,The night-mareLife-in-Deathwas she,Who thicks man's blood with cold.Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.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—At the rising of the Moon,Till clomb above the eastern barThe hornèd Moon, with one bright starWithin the nether tip.One after another,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.His shipmates drop down dead.Four times fifty living men,(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,They dropped down one by one.But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.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!'
'Here passed a weary time. Each throatWas parched, and glazed each eye.A weary time! a weary time!How glazed each weary eye!The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.When looking westward I beheldA something in the sky.
The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.
At first it seemed a little speck,And then it seemed a mist:It moved and moved, and took at lastA 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.
At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,We could nor laugh nor wail;Through utter drought all dumb we stood!I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,And cried, "A sail! a sail!"
At its nearer approach, it seemeth him to be a ship; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,Agape they heard me call:A flash of joy.Gramercy! they for joy did grin,And all at once their breath drew in,As they were drinking all.
A flash of joy.
And horror follows. For can it be ashipthat comes onward without wind or tide?"See! see!" (I cried) "she tacks no more!Hither to work us weal;Without a breeze, without a tide,She steadies with upright keel!"
And horror follows. For can it be ashipthat comes onward without wind or tide?
The western wave was all a-flame,The day was well nigh done!Almost upon the western waveRested the broad bright Sun;When that strange shape drove suddenlyBetwixt us and the Sun.
It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.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.
It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.
"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?
And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.Are those her ribs through which the SunDid peer, as through a grate?And is that Woman all her crew?The spectre-woman and her death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship.Is that aDeath? and are there two?IsDeaththat woman's mate?
And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.
The spectre-woman and her death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship.
Like vessel, like crew!Her lips were red, her looks were free,Her locks were yellow as gold:Her skin was as white as leprosy,The night-mareLife-in-Deathwas she,Who thicks man's blood with cold.
Like vessel, like crew!
Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.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.
Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.
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—At the rising of the Moon,Till clomb above the eastern barThe hornèd Moon, with one bright starWithin the nether tip.
At the rising of the Moon,
One after another,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.
One after another,
His shipmates drop down dead.Four times fifty living men,(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,They dropped down one by one.
His shipmates drop down dead.
But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.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!'
But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.
PART IV
The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him;'I fear thee, Ancient Mariner!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.'—But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.'Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!This body dropt not down.Alone, alone, all, all alone,Alone on a wide wide sea!And never a saint took pity onMy soul in agony.He despiseth the creatures of the calm,The many men, so beautiful!And they all dead did lie:And a thousand thousand slimy thingsLived on; and so did I.And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.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 or ever a prayer had gusht,A wicked whisper came, and madeMy 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.But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.The cold sweat melted from their limbs,Nor rot nor reek did they:The look with which they looked on meHad never passed away.An orphan's curse would drag to HellA spirit from on high;But oh! more horrible than thatIn his loneliness and fixedness, he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country, and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.Is the 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 charmèd water burnt alwayA still and awful red.By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.Beyond the shadow of the ship,I watched the water-snakes:They moved in tracks of shining white,And when they reared, the elfish lightFell off in hoary flakes.Within the shadow of the shipI watched their rich attire:Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,They coiled and swam; and every trackWas a flash of golden fire.Their beauty and their happiness.O happy living things! no tongueTheir beauty might declare:A spring of love gushed from my heart,He blesseth them in his heart.And I blessed them unaware!Sure my kind saint took pity on me,And I blessed them unaware.The spell begins to break.The selfsame moment I could pray;And from my neck so freeThe Albatross fell off, and sankLike lead into the sea.
The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him;'I fear thee, Ancient Mariner!I fear thy skinny hand!And thou art long, and lank, and brown,As is the ribbed sea-sand.
The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him;
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.'Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!This body dropt not down.
But the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,Alone on a wide wide sea!And never a saint took pity onMy soul in agony.
He despiseth the creatures of the calm,The many men, so beautiful!And they all dead did lie:And a thousand thousand slimy thingsLived on; and so did I.
He despiseth the creatures of the calm,
And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.I looked upon the rotting sea,And drew my eyes away;I looked upon the rotting deck,And there the dead men lay.
And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.
I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray;But or ever a prayer had gusht,A wicked whisper came, and madeMy 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.
But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.The cold sweat melted from their limbs,Nor rot nor reek did they:The look with which they looked on meHad never passed away.
But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.
An orphan's curse would drag to HellA spirit from on high;But oh! more horrible than thatIn his loneliness and fixedness, he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country, and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.Is the curse in a dead man's eye!Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,And yet I could not die.
In his loneliness and fixedness, he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country, and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected, and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
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 charmèd water burnt alwayA still and awful red.
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.Beyond the shadow of the ship,I watched the water-snakes:They moved in tracks of shining white,And when they reared, the elfish lightFell off in hoary flakes.
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.
Within the shadow of the shipI watched their rich attire:Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,They coiled and swam; and every trackWas a flash of golden fire.
Their beauty and their happiness.O happy living things! no tongueTheir beauty might declare:A spring of love gushed from my heart,He blesseth them in his heart.And I blessed them unaware!Sure my kind saint took pity on me,And I blessed them unaware.
Their beauty and their happiness.
He blesseth them in his heart.
The spell begins to break.The selfsame moment I could pray;And from my neck so freeThe Albatross fell off, and sankLike lead into the sea.
The spell begins to break.
PART V
'Oh sleep! it is 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.By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.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—almostI thought that I had died in sleepAnd was a blessed ghost.He heareth sounds, and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.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 stillThe 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 bodies of the ship's crew are inspirited, and the ship moves on;The loud wind never reached the ship,Yet now the ship moved on!Beneath the lightning and the MoonThe 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 sonStood by me, knee to knee:The body and I pulled at one rope,But he said nought to me.'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.'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 skyI heard the sky-lark sing;Sometimes all little birds that are,How they seemed to fill the sea and airWith 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 onA pleasant noise till noon,A noise like of a hidden brookIn the leafy month of June,That to the sleeping woods all nightSingeth a quiet tune.Till noon we quietly sailèd on,Yet never a breeze did breathe:Slowly and smoothly went the ship,Moved onward from beneath.The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.Under the keel nine fathom deep,From the land of mist and snow,The spirit slid; and it was heThat made the ship to go.The sails at noon left off their tune,And the ship stood still also.The Sun, right up above the mast,Had fixed 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.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.How long in that same fit I lay,I have not to declare;But ere my living life returned,I heard, and in my soul discernedTwo 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 lowThe harmless Albatross.The spirit who bideth by himselfIn the land of mist and snow,He loved the bird that loved the manWho shot him with his bow."The other was a softer voice,As soft as honey-dew:Quoth he, "The man hath penance done,And penance more will do."
'Oh sleep! it is 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.
By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.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.
By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.
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—almostI thought that I had died in sleepAnd was a blessed ghost.
He heareth sounds, and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.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.
He heareth sounds, and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.
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 stillThe 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 bodies of the ship's crew are inspirited, and the ship moves on;The loud wind never reached the ship,Yet now the ship moved on!Beneath the lightning and the MoonThe dead men gave a groan.
The bodies of the ship's crew are inspirited, and the ship moves on;
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 sonStood by me, knee to knee:The body and I pulled at one rope,But he said nought to me.'
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.'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:
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.
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 skyI heard the sky-lark sing;Sometimes all little birds that are,How they seemed to fill the sea and airWith 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 onA pleasant noise till noon,A noise like of a hidden brookIn the leafy month of June,That to the sleeping woods all nightSingeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailèd on,Yet never a breeze did breathe:Slowly and smoothly went the ship,Moved onward from beneath.
The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.Under the keel nine fathom deep,From the land of mist and snow,The spirit slid; and it was heThat made the ship to go.The sails at noon left off their tune,And the ship stood still also.
The lonesome Spirit from the South Pole carries on the ship as far as the Line, in obedience to the angelic troop, but still requireth vengeance.
The Sun, right up above the mast,Had fixed 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.
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.How long in that same fit I lay,I have not to declare;But ere my living life returned,I heard, and in my soul discernedTwo voices in the air.
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.
"Is it he?" quoth one, "is this the man?By Him who died on cross,With his cruel bow he laid full lowThe harmless Albatross.
The spirit who bideth by himselfIn the land of mist and snow,He loved the bird that loved the manWho shot him with his bow."
The other was a softer voice,As soft as honey-dew:Quoth he, "The man hath penance done,And penance more will do."
PART VI
First Voice"But tell me, tell me! speak again,Thy soft response renewing—What makes that ship drive on so fast?What is the Ocean doing?"
First Voice
"But tell me, tell me! speak again,Thy soft response renewing—What makes that ship drive on so fast?What is the Ocean doing?"
Second Voice"Still as a slave before his lord,The Ocean hath no blast;His great bright eye most silentlyUp to the Moon is cast—If he may know which way to go;For she guides him smooth or grim.See, brother, see! how graciouslyShe looketh down on him."
Second Voice
"Still as a slave before his lord,The Ocean hath no blast;His great bright eye most silentlyUp to the Moon is cast—
If he may know which way to go;For she guides him smooth or grim.See, brother, see! how graciouslyShe looketh down on him."