The Rime of the Ancient Mariner eText - eText

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The Rime of the Ancient Mariner in Seven Parts

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stoppest thou me?

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


He holds him with his glittering eye—
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years child:(15)
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest is
spell-bound by the eye
of the old seafaring
man, and constrained
to hear his tale.


The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he!(25)
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

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


The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.(35)

The Wedding-
Guest heareth the
bridal music; but the
Mariner continueth his tale.


And now the STORM-BLAST came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased south along.

The ship drawn by
a storm toward the
South Pole.


And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen:(55)
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.


At 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.(65)

Till a great sea-bird,
called the Albatross,
came through the
snow-fog, and was
received with great joy
and hospitality.


And a good south wind sprung up behind;(70)
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.


“God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look'st thou so?”—With my cross-bow(80)
I shot the Albatross.

The ancient
Mariner inhospitably
killeth the pious
bird of good omen.


And I had done an hellish thing,(90)
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.

His shipmates cry
out against the
ancient Mariner for
killing the bird of
good luck.


Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious Sun uprist:(95)
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That 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 accom
plices in the crime.


The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free:
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent sea.

The fair breeze
continues; the ship
enters the Pacific
Ocean, and sails
northward, even till
it reaches the Line.


Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;(105)
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea!

The ship hath been
suddenly becalmed.


Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

And the Albatross
begins to be avenged.


And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so:
Nine fathom deep he had followed us(130)
From the land of mist and snow.

A Spirit had followed
them; one of the invis-
ible inhabitants of this
planet, neither depart-
ed 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.


Ah! well a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the Cross, the Albatross
About 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.


There passed a weary time. Each throat(140)
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.(145)

The ancient Mariner
beholdeth a sign in the
element afar off.


With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We could not 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:(160)
Gramercy! they for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were drinking all.

A flash of joy;


See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!
Hither to work us weal;(165)
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel!

And horror follows.
For can it be a ship
that comes onward
without wind or tide?


And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)(175)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered,
With broad and burning face.

It seemeth him but the
skeleton of a ship.


Are those her ribs through which the Sun
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a DEATH? and are there two?(185)
Is DEATH that 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 ves
sel, like crew!


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.(195)

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.

No twilight within the
courts of the Sun.


We listened and looked sideways up!(200)
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—(205)
Till clombe above the eastern bar
The hornéd Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

At the rising of the
Moon,


One after one, by the star-dogged Moon
Too quick for groan or sigh,(210)
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye.

One after another,


Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,(215)
They dropped down one by one.

His shipmates drop
down dead.


The souls did from their bodies fly,—
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whiz of my cross-bow!(220)

But Life-in-Death
begins her work on the
ancient Mariner.


“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,(225)
And thy skinny hand, so brown—”
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.


The many men, so beautiful!
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things(235)
Lived on—and so did I.

He despiseth the crea
tures of the calm.


I looked upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.(240)

And envieth that they
should live, and so
many lie dead.


The cold sweat melted from their limbs,(250)
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me
Had never passed away.

But the curse liveth for
him in the eye of the
dead men.


The moving Moon went up the sky,(260)
And no where did abide:
Softly she was going up,
And a star or two beside.

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 unan
nounced, as lords that
are certainly expected,
and yet there is a
silent joy at their
arrival.


Beyond the shadow of the ship,
I watched the water-snakes:(270)
They moved in tracks of shining white,
And when they reared, the elfish light
Fell off in hoary flakes.

By the light of the
Moon he beholdeth
God's creatures of the
great calm.


O happy living things! no tongue
Their beauty might declare:(280)
A spring of love gushed from my 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 selfsame moment I could pray;(285)
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.

The spell begins to
break.


The silly buckets on the deck,
That had so long remained,(295)
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.


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 loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!(325)
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.

The bodies of the ship's
crew are inspired, and
the ship moves on;


“I fear thee, ancient Mariner!”
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,(345)
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 invoca
tion of the guardian
saint.


Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,(375)
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 South Pole
carries on the ship
as far as the Line,
in obedience to the
angelic troop, but still
requireth vengeance.


“Is it he?” quoth one, “Is this the man?(395)
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low,
The harmless Albatross.

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.


I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high;
The dead men stood together.(430)

The supernatural
motion is retarded; the
Mariner awakes, and
his penance begins
anew.


And now this spell was snapt: once more
I viewed the ocean green.(440)
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen—

The curse is finally
expiated.


Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed
The light-house top I see?
Is this the hill? is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree!

And the ancient
Mariner beholdeth his
native country.


And the bay was white with silent light,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
In crimson colours came.(480)

The angelic spirits
leave the dead bodies,


A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck—
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

And appear in their
own forms of light.


This Hermit good lives in that wood
Which slopes down to the sea.
How loudly his sweet voice he rears!
He loves to talk with marineres
That come from a far countree.(515)

The Hermit of the
Wood.


“Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said—
“And they answered not our cheer!(525)
The planks looked warped! and see those sails,
How thin they are and sere!
I never saw aught like to them,
Unless perchance it were

Approacheth the ship
with wonder.


Under the water it rumbled on,
Still louder and more dread:
It reached the ship, it split the bay;(545)
The ship went down like lead.

The ship suddenly
sinketh.


Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been seven days drowned
My body lay afloat;(550)
But swift as dreams, myself I found
Within the Pilot's boat.

The ancient Mariner
is saved in the Pilot's
boat.


“O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!”
The Hermit crossed his brow.
“Say quick,” quoth he, “I bid thee say—
What manner of man art thou?”

The ancient Mariner
earnestly entreateth
the Hermit to shrieve
him; and the penance
of life falls on him.


Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns;(580)
And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

And ever and anon
throughout his future
life an agony con-
straineth him to travel
from land to land;


Farewell, farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou Wedding-Guest!
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.(610)

And to teach, by his
own example, love
and reverence to all
things that God made
and loveth.


From Lyrical Ballads

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? quae 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 hodiernae vitae 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. – T. Burnet, Archaeol. Phil., p. 68

Argument

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 Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country.

Part the First.

Part the Second.

Part the Third.

Part the Fourth.

Part the Fifth.

Part the Sixth.

The Mariner hath
been cast into a
trance; for the angelic
power causeth the ves
sel to drive northward
faster than human life
could endure.

Part the Seventh.

“The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,(5)
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.(10)
“Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
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,(20)
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top.
Higher and higher every day,
Till over the mast at noon—
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,(30)
For he heard the loud bassoon.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow(45)
Still treads the shadow of his foe
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,(50)
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,(60)
Like noises in a swound!
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!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;(75)
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.
The Sun now rose upon the right:
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left
Went down into the sea.(85)
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!
All in a hot and copper sky,
The bloody Sun, at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,(110)
No bigger than the Moon.
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.(115)
The very deep did rot: O Christ!(120)
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.
About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green and blue and white.
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.(135)
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!(150)
And still it neared and neared;
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.
The western wave was all a-flame
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave(170)
Rested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,(180)
Like restless gossameres!
Her lips were red, her looks were free,
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-Mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,(190)
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
Alone on a wide wide sea!(230)
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.
I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray:
But or ever a prayer had gusht,
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
I closed my lids, and kept them close,(245)
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.
An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
A spirit from on high;(255)
But oh! more horrible than that
Is a curse in a dead man's eye!
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
Like April hoar-frost spread;(265)
But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
The charmed water burnt alway
A still and awful red.
Within the shadow of the ship
I watched their rich attire:(275)
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and swam; and every track
Was a flash of golden fire.
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
Beloved from pole to pole!(290)
To Mary Queen the praise be given!
She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
That slid into my soul.
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
My garments all were dank;
Sure I had drunken in my dreams,(300)
And still my body drank.
I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
I was so light—almost
I thought that I had died in sleep,
And was a blessed Ghost.(305)
The upper air burst into life!(310)
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,(315)
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 still
The Moon was at its side:(320)
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,(330)
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:(335)
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 pulled at one rope,(340)
But he said nought to me.
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.(350)
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 sky(355)
I heard the sky-lark sing;
Sometimes all little birds that are,
How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!
And now 'twas like all instruments,(360)
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,(365)
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,(370)
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
The Sun, right up above the mast,(380)
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.(385)
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,(390)
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.
“The spirit who bideth by himself
In the land of mist and snow,(400)
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:
Quoth he, “The man hath penance done,(405)
And penance more will do.”
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?(410)
SECOND VOICE.
Still as a slave before his lord,
The Ocean hath no blast;
His great bright eye most silently
Up to the Moon is cast—
If he may know which way to go;(415)
For she guides him smooth or grim
See, brother, see! how graciously
She looketh down on him.
FIRST VOICE.
But why drives on that ship so fast,
Without or wave or wind?(420)
SECOND VOICE.
The air is cut away before,
And closes from behind.
Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high
Or we shall be belated:
For slow and slow that ship will go,(425)
When the Mariner's trance is abated.
All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the Moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,(435)
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
Like one that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turned round walks on,(445)
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made:(450)
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring—
It mingled strangely with my fears,(455)
Yet it felt like a welcoming.
Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:
Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.(460)
We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,(465)
And I with sobs did pray—
O let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.
The harbour-bay was clear as glass,
So smoothly it was strewn!(470)
And on the bay the moonlight lay,
And the shadow of the Moon.
The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,
That stands above the rock:
The moonlight steeped in silentness(475)
The steady weathercock.
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,(485)
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!(490)
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light:
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart—
No voice; but oh! the silence sank(495)
Like music on my heart.
But soon I heard the dash of oars;
I heard the Pilot's cheer;
My head was turned perforce away,
And I saw a boat appear.(500)
The Pilot, and the Pilot's boy,
I heard them coming fast:
Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy
The dead men could not blast.
I saw a third—I heard his voice:(505)
It is the Hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns
That he makes in the wood.
He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
The Albatross's blood.(510)
He kneels at morn and noon and eve—
He hath a cushion plump:
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.
The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,(520)
“Why this is strange, I trow!
Where are those lights so many and fair,
That signal made but now?”
“Brown skeletons of leaves that lag(530)
My forest-brook along;
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,
That eats the she-wolf's young.”
“Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look—(535)
(The Pilot made reply)
I am a-feared”—“Push on, push on!”
Said the Hermit cheerily.
The boat came closer to the ship,
But I nor spake nor stirred;(540)
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,
The boat spun round and round;
And all was still, save that the hill(555)
Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked
And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes,
And prayed where he did sit.(560)
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,
Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while
His eyes went to and fro.
“Ha! ha!” quoth he, “full plain I see,(565)
The Devil knows how to row.”
And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,
And scarcely he could stand.(570)
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched(575)
With a woeful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale;
And then it left me free.
I pass, like night, from land to land;
I have strange power of speech;
That moment that his face I see,(585)
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride(590)
And bride-maids singing are:
And hark the little vesper bell,
Which biddeth me to prayer!
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide wide sea:(595)
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast,
'Tis sweeter far to me,
To walk together to the kirk(600)
With a goodly company!—
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends,
Old men, and babes, and loving friends,(605)
And youths and maidens gay!
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us
He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright,(615)
Whose beard with age is hoar,
Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest
Turned from the bridegroom's door.
He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn:(620)
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.