THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER. IN SEVEN PARTS. FACILE credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit, et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt? quæ loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens assuefacta hodiernæ vitæ minutiis se contrahat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus. It is an ancient Mariner, And he stoppeth one of three. "By thy long gray 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, graybeard loon !" He holds him with his glittering eye- The wedding-guest sat on a stone : And thus spake on that ancient man, The ship was cheered, the harbor cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the light-house top. The sun came up upon the left, And he shone bright, and on the right Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast, The bride hath paced into the hall, Nodding their heads before her goes The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast, And now the storm-blast came, and he He struck with his o'ertaking wings, With sloping masts and dipping prow, And 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 ice, mast-high, came floating by, And through the drifts the showy clifts Nor shapes of men nor beast we ken- The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around: It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, At length did cross an Albatross, As if it had been a Christian soul, It ate the food it ne'er had eat, And a good south wind sprung up behind; And every day, for food or play, Came to the mariner's hollo! In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perched for vespers nine; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, "God save thee, ancient Mariner ! From the fiends, that plague thee thus !- The land of ice, and of fearful sounds where no living thing was to be seen. Till a great seabird called the Albatross, came through the snow fog, and was received with great joy and hospitality. And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen,and followeth the ship as it returneth northward through fog and floating ice. The ancient Mari ner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen. 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. The fair breeze continues ; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even until it reaches the Line. The ship hath been suddenly becalmed. PART II. THE 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, Nor any day for food or play And I had done a hellish thing, 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, The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew 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 The 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; 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 every tongue, through utter drought, Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. Ah well a-day! what evil looks The ship-mates, 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. Each throat THERE passed a weary time. |