Coleridge's Ancient Mariner and Select Poems Part 10

I woke; it was the midnight hour, 555 The clock was echoing in the tower; But though my slumber was gone by, This dream it would not pa.s.s away-- It seems to live upon my eye!

And thence I vowed this self-same day 560 With music strong and saintly song To wander through the forest bare, Lest aught unholy loiter there."

Thus Bracy said: the Baron, the while, Half-listening heard him with a smile; 565 Then turned to Lady Geraldine, His eyes made up of wonder and love; And said in courtly accents fine, "Sweet maid, Lord Roland's beauteous dove, With arms more strong than harp or song, 570 Thy sire and I will crush the snake!"

He kissed her forehead as he spake, And Geraldine in maiden wise Casting down her large bright eyes, With blus.h.i.+ng cheek and courtesy fine 575 She turned her from Sir Leoline; Softly gathering up her train, That o'er her right arm fell again; And folded her arms across her chest, And couched her head upon her breast, 580 And looked askance at Christabel-- Jesu, Maria, s.h.i.+eld her well!

A snake's small eye blinks dull and shy, And the lady's eyes they shrunk in her head, Each shrunk up to a serpent's eye, 585 And with somewhat of malice, and more of dread, At Christabel she looked askance!-- One moment--and the sight was fled!

But Christabel in dizzy trance Stumbling on the unsteady ground 590 Shuddered aloud, with a hissing sound; And Geraldine again turned round, And like a thing, that sought relief, Full of wonder and full of grief, She rolled her large bright eyes divine 595 Wildly on Sir Leoline.

The maid, alas! her thoughts are gone, She nothing sees--no sight but one!

The maid, devoid of guile and sin, I know not how, in fearful wise, 600 So deeply had she drunken in That look, those shrunken serpent eyes, That all her features were resigned To this sole image in her mind: And pa.s.sively did imitate 605 That look of dull and treacherous hate!

And thus she stood, in dizzy trance, Still picturing that look askance With forced unconscious sympathy Full before her father's view-- 610 As far as such a look could be In eyes so innocent and blue!

And when the trance was o'er, the maid Paused awhile, and inly prayed: Then falling at the Baron's feet, 615 "By my mother's soul, do I entreat That thou this woman send away!"

She said: and more she could not say: For what she knew she could not tell, O'er-mastered by the mighty spell. 620

Why is thy cheek so wan and wild, Sir Leoline? Thy only child Lies at thy feet, thy joy, thy pride, So fair, so innocent, so mild; The same, for whom thy lady died! 625 O, by the pangs of her dear mother Think thou no evil of thy child!

For her, and thee, and for no other, She prayed the moment ere she died: Prayed that the babe for whom she died, 630 Might prove her dear lord's joy and pride!

That prayer her deadly pangs beguiled, Sir Leoline!

And wouldst thou wrong thy only child, Her child and thine? 635

Within the Baron's heart and brain If thoughts, like these, had any share, They only swelled his rage and pain, And did but work confusion there.

His heart was cleft with pain and rage, 640 His cheeks they quivered, his eyes were wild, Dishonoured thus in his old age; Dishonour'd by his only child, And all his hospitality To the insulted daughter of his friend 645 By more than woman's jealousy Brought thus to a disgraceful end-- He rolled his eye with stern regard Upon the gentle minstrel bard, And said in tones abrupt, austere-- 650 "Why, Bracy! dost thou loiter here?

I bade thee hence!" The bard obeyed; And turning from his own sweet maid, The aged knight, Sir Leoline, Led forth the lady Geraldine! 655

THE CONCLUSION TO PART THE SECOND

A little child, a limber elf, Singing, dancing to itself, A fairy thing with red round cheeks, That always finds, and never seeks, Makes such a vision to the sight 660 As fills a father's eyes with light; And pleasures flow in so thick and fast Upon his heart, that he at last Must needs express his love's excess With words of unmeant bitterness. 665 Perhaps 'tis pretty to force together Thoughts so all unlike each other; To mutter and mock a broken charm, To dally with wrong that does no harm.

Perhaps 'tis tender too and pretty 670 At each wild word to feel within A sweet recoil of love and pity.

And what, if in a world of sin (O sorrow and shame should this be true!) Such giddiness of heart and brain 675 Comes seldom save from rage and pain, So talks as it's most used to do.

KUBLA KHAN

In Xanadu did Kubla Khan A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea. 5 So twice five miles of fertile ground With walls and towers were girdled round: And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree; And here were forests ancient as the hills, 10 Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!

A savage place! as holy and enchanted As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted 15 By woman wailing for her demon-lover!

And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing, A mighty fountain momently was forced: Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst 20 Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river.

Five miles meandering with a mazy motion 25 Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30

The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves.

It was a miracle of rare device, 35 A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid, And on her dulcimer she played, 40 Singing of Mount Abora.

Could I revive within me.

Her symphony and song, To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long, 45 I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice!

And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware!

His flas.h.i.+ng eyes, his floating hair! 50 Weave a circle round him thrice, And close your eyes with holy dread, For he on honey-dew hath fed, And drunk the milk of Paradise.

LOVE

All thoughts, all pa.s.sions, all delights, Whatever stirs this mortal frame, All are but ministers of Love, And feed his sacred flame.

Oft in my waking dreams do I 5 Live o'er again that happy hour, When midway on the mount I lay, Beside the ruined tower.

The moons.h.i.+ne, stealing o'er the scene, Had blended with the lights of eve; 10 And she was there, my hope, my joy, My own dear Genevieve!

She leant against the armed man, The statue of the armed knight; She stood and listened to my lay, 15 Amid the lingering light.

Few sorrows hath she of her own.

My hope! my joy! my Genevieve!

She loves me best, whene'er I sing The songs that make her grieve. 20

I played a soft and doleful air, I sang an old and moving story-- An old rude song, that suited well That ruin wild and h.o.a.ry.

She listened with a flitting blush, 25 With downcast eyes and modest grace; For well she knew, I could not choose But gaze upon her face.

I told her of the Knight that wore Upon his s.h.i.+eld a burning brand; 30 And that for ten long years he wooed The Lady of the Land.

I told her how he pined: and ah!

The deep, the low, the pleading tone With which I sang another's love, 35 Interpreted my own.

She listened with a flitting blush, With downcast eyes, and modest grace And she forgave me, that I gazed Too fondly on her face! 40

But when I told the cruel scorn That crazed that bold and lovely Knight, And that he crossed the mountain-woods, Nor rested day nor night;

That sometimes from the savage den, 45 And sometimes from the darksome shade, And sometimes starting up at once In green and sunny glade,--

There came and looked him in the face An angel beautiful and bright; 50 And that he knew it was a Fiend, This miserable Knight!

And that unknowing what he did, He leaped amid a murderous band, And saved from outrage worse than death 55 The Lady of the Land!

And how she wept, and clasped his knees; And how she tended him in vain-- And ever strove to expiate The scorn that crazed his brain;-- 60

And that she nursed him in a cave; And how his madness went away, When on the yellow forest-leaves A dying man he lay;--

His dying words--but when I reached 65 That tenderest strain of all the ditty, My faltering voice and pausing harp Disturbed her soul with pity!

All impulses of soul and sense Had thrilled my guileless Genevieve; 70 The music and the doleful tale, The rich and balmy eve;

And hopes, and fears that kindle hope, An undistinguishable throng, And gentle wishes long subdued, 75 Subdued and cherished long!