The Complete Poetical Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge Volume II Part 199

I turn'd my head in fear and dread, And by the holy rood, 490 The bodies had advanc'd, and now Before the mast they stood.

They lifted up their stiff right arms, They held them strait and tight; And each right-arm burnt like a torch, 495 A torch that's borne upright.

Their stony eye-b.a.l.l.s glitter'd on In the red and smoky light.

I pray'd and turn'd my head away Forth looking as before. 500 There was no breeze upon the bay, No wave against the sh.o.r.e.

The rock shone bright, the kirk no less That stands above the rock: The moonlight steep'd in silentness 505 The steady weatherc.o.c.k.

And the bay was white with silent light, Till rising from the same Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. 510

A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: I turn'd my eyes upon the deck-- O Christ! what saw I there?

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat; 515 And by the Holy rood A man all light, a seraph-man, On every corse there stood.

This seraph-band, each wav'd his hand: It was a heavenly sight: 520 They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light:

This seraph-band, each wav'd his hand, No voice did they impart-- No voice; but O! the silence sank, 525 Like music on my heart.

Eftsones I heard the dash of oars, I heard the pilot's cheer: My head was turn'd perforce away And I saw a boat appear. 530

Then vanish'd all the lovely lights; The bodies rose anew: With silent pace, each to his place, Came back the ghastly crew.

The wind, that shade nor motion made, 535 On me alone it blew.

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. 540

I saw a third--I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good!

He singeth loud his G.o.dly hymns That he makes in the wood.

He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away 545 The Albatross's blood.

VII.

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 550 That come from a far Contree.

He kneels at morn and noon and eve-- He hath a cus.h.i.+on plump: It is the moss, that wholly hides The rotted old Oak-stump. 555

The Skiff-boat ne'rd: I heard them talk, "Why, this is strange, I trow!

"Where are those lights so many and fair "That signal made but now?

"Strange, by my faith! the Hermit said-- 560 "And they answer'd not our cheer.

"The planks look warp'd, and see those sails "How thin they are and sere!

"I never saw aught like to them "Unless perchance it were 565

"The skeletons of leaves that lag "My forest-brook along: "When the Ivy-tod is heavy with snow, "And the Owlet whoops to the wolf below "That eats the she-wolfs young. 570

"Dear Lord! it has a fiendish look-- (The Pilot made reply) "I am afear'd--"Push on, push on!

"Said the Hermit cheerily.

The Boat came closer to the s.h.i.+p, 575 But I ne spake ne stirr'd!

The Boat came close beneath the s.h.i.+p, And strait a sound was heard!

Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: 580 It reach'd the s.h.i.+p, it split the bay; The s.h.i.+p went down like lead.

Stunn'd by that loud and dreadful sound, Which sky and ocean smote: Like one that had been seven days drown'd 585 My body lay afloat: But, swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat.

Upon the whirl, where sank the s.h.i.+p, The boat spun round and round: 590 And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound.

I mov'd my lips: the Pilot shriek'd And fell down in a fit.

The Holy Hermit rais'd his eyes 595 And pray'd where he did sit.

I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go, Laugh'd loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro, 600 "Ha! ha!" quoth he--"full plain I see, "The devil knows how to row."

And now all in mine own Countree I stood on the firm land!

The Hermit stepp'd forth from the boat, 605 And scarcely he could stand.

"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy Man!

The Hermit cross'd his brow-- "Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee say "What manner man art thou?" 610

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd With a woeful agony, Which forc'd me to begin my tale And then it left me free.

Since then at an uncertain hour, 615 Now oftimes and now fewer, That anguish comes and makes me tell My ghastly aventure.

I pa.s.s, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; 620 The moment that his face I see 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; 625 But in the Garden-bower the Bride And Bride-maids singing are: And hark the little Vesper-bell Which biddeth me to prayer.

O Wedding-guest! this soul hath been 630 Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely 'twas, that G.o.d himself Scarce seemed there to be.

O sweeter than the Marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me 635 To walk together to the Kirk With a goodly company.

To walk together to the Kirk And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, 640 Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And Youths, and Maidens gay.

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou wedding-guest!

He prayeth well who loveth well, 645 Both man and bird and beast.

He prayeth best who loveth best, All things both great and small: For the dear G.o.d, who loveth us, He made and loveth all. 650

The Marinere, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is h.o.a.r, Is gone; and now the wedding-guest Turn'd from the bridegroom's door.

He went, like one that hath been stunn'd 655 And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man He rose the morrow morn.

FOOTNOTES:

[1030:1] First published in _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798, pp. [1]-27; republished in _Lyrical Ballads_, 1800, vol. i; _Lyrical Ballads_, 1802, vol. i; _Lyrical Ballads_, 1805, vol. i; reprinted in _The Poems of Samuel Taylor Coleridge_, Appendix, pp. 404-29, London: E. Moxon, Son, and Company, [1870]; reprinted in _Lyrical Ballads_ edition of 1798, edited by Edward Dowden, LL D., 1890, in _P. W._, 1893, Appendix E, pp.