The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner (text Of 1834) Mr. Hollweg .
The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (text of 1834)BY SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGEMr. Hollweg: AP LiteratureArgumentHow 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 tothe tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to hisown Country.PART IIt is an ancient Mariner,The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:And he stoppeth one of three.He cannot choose but hear;'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,And thus spake on that ancient man,Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?The bright-eyed Mariner.The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,'The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,And I am next of kin;Merrily did we dropThe guests are met, the feast is set:Below the kirk, below the hill,May'st hear the merry din.'Below the lighthouse top.He holds him with his skinny hand,The Sun came up upon the left,'There was a ship,' quoth he.Out of the sea came he!'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'And he shone bright, and on the rightEftsoons his hand dropt he.Went down into the sea.He holds him with his glittering eye—Higher and higher every day,Till over the mast at noon—'The Wedding-Guest stood still,The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,And listens like a three years' child:For he heard the loud bassoon.The Mariner hath his will.1
The bride hath paced into the hall,And through the drifts the snowy cliftsRed as a rose is she;Did send a dismal sheen:Nodding their heads before her goesNor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—The merry minstrelsy.The ice was all between.The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,The ice was here, the ice was there,Yet he cannot choose but hear;The ice was all around:And thus spake on that ancient man,It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,The bright-eyed Mariner.Like noises in a swound!And now the STORM-BLAST came, and heAt length did cross an Albatross,Was tyrannous and strong:Thorough the fog it came;He struck with his o'ertaking wings,As if it had been a Christian soul,And chased us south along.We hailed it in God's name.With sloping masts and dipping prow,It ate the food it ne'er had eat,As who pursued with yell and blowAnd round and round it flew.Still treads the shadow of his foe,The ice did split with a thunder-fit;And forward bends his head,The helmsman steered us through!The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,And southward aye we fled.And a good south wind sprung up behind;The Albatross did follow,And now there came both mist and snow,And every day, for food or play,And it grew wondrous cold:Came to the mariner's hollo!And ice, mast-high, came floating by,As green as emerald.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.'2
'God save thee, ancient Mariner!The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—The furrow followed free;Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bowWe were the first that ever burstI shot the ALBATROSS.Into that silent sea.PART IIDown dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,The Sun now rose upon the right:'Twas sad as sad could be;Out of the sea came he,And we did speak only to breakStill hid in mist, and on the leftThe silence of the sea!Went down into the sea.All in a hot and copper sky,And the good south wind still blew behind,The bloody Sun, at noon,But no sweet bird did follow,Right up above the mast did stand,Nor any day for food or playNo bigger than the Moon.Came to the mariner's hollo!Day after day, day after day,And I had done a hellish thing,We stuck, nor breath nor motion;And it would work 'em woe:As idle as a painted shipFor all averred, I had killed the birdUpon a painted ocean.That made the breeze to blow.Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,Water, water, every where,That made the breeze to blow!And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, every where,Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,Nor any drop to drink.The glorious Sun uprist:Then all averred, I had killed the birdThe very deep did rot: O Christ!That brought the fog and mist.That ever this should be!'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,Yea, slimy things did crawl with legsThat bring the fog and mist.Upon the slimy sea.3
About, about, in reel and routWhen looking westward, I beheldThe death-fires danced at night;A something in the sky.The water, like a witch's oils,Burnt green, and blue and white.At first it seemed a little speck,And then it seemed a mist;And some in dreams assurèd wereIt moved and moved, and took at lastOf the Spirit that plagued us so;A certain shape, I wist.Nine fathom deep he had followed usFrom the land of mist and snow.A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!And still it neared and neared:And every tongue, through utter drought,As if it dodged a water-sprite,Was withered at the root;It plunged and tacked and veered.We could not speak, no more than ifWe had been choked with soot.With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,We could nor laugh nor wail;Ah! well a-day! what evil looksThrough utter drought all dumb we stood!Had I from old and young!I bit my arm, I sucked the blood,Instead of the cross, the AlbatrossAnd cried, A sail! a sail!About my neck was hung.With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,PART IIIAgape they heard me call:There passed a weary time. Each throatGramercy! they for joy did grin,Was parched, and glazed each eye.And all at once their breath drew in.A weary time! a weary time!As they were drinking all.How glazed each weary eye,See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more!Hither to work us weal;Without a breeze, without a tide,She steadies with upright keel!4
The western wave was all a-flame.The naked hulk alongside came,The day was well nigh done!And the twain were casting dice;Almost upon the western wave'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'Rested the broad bright Sun;Quoth she, and whistles thrice.When that strange shape drove suddenlyBetwixt us and the Sun.The Sun's rim dips; the stars rush out;At one stride comes the dark;And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)Off shot the spectre-bark.As if through a dungeon-grate he peeredWith broad and burning face.We listened and looked sideways up!Fear at my heart, as at a cup,Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)My life-blood seemed to sip!How fast she nears and nears!The stars were dim, and thick the night,Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;Like restless gossameres?From the sails the dew did drip—Till clomb above the eastern barAre those her ribs through which the SunThe hornèd Moon, with one bright starDid peer, as through a grate?Within the nether tip.And is that Woman all her crew?Is that a DEATH? and are there two?One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,Is DEATH that woman's mate?Too quick for groan or sigh,Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,Her lips were red, her looks were free,And cursed me with his eye.Her locks were yellow as gold:Her skin was as white as leprosy,Four times fifty living men,The Night-mare LIFE-IN-DEATH was she,(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)Who thicks man's blood with cold.With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,They dropped down one by one.5
The souls did from their bodies fly,—And there the dead men lay.They fled to bliss or woe!And every soul, it passed me by,I looked to heaven, and tried to pray;Like the whizz of my cross-bow!But or ever a prayer had gusht,A wicked whisper came, and madePART IVMy heart as dry as dust.'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!I fear thy skinny hand!I closed my lids, and kept them close,And thou art long, and lank, and brown,And the balls like pulses beat;As is the ribbed sea-sand.For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the skyLay dead like a load on my weary eye,I fear thee and thy glittering eye,And the dead were at my feet.And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!The cold sweat melted from their limbs,This body dropt not down.Nor rot nor reek did they:The look with which they looked on meAlone, alone, all, all alone,Had never passed away.Alone on a wide wide sea!And never a saint took pity onAn orphan's curse would drag to hellMy soul in agony.A spirit from on high;But oh! more horrible than thatThe many men, so beautiful!Is the curse in a dead man's eye!And they all dead did lie:Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,And a thousand thousand slimy thingsAnd yet I could not die.Lived on; and so did I.The moving Moon went up the sky,I looked upon the rotting sea,And no where did abide:And drew my eyes away;Softly she was going up,I looked upon the rotting deck,And a star or two beside—6
Like lead into the sea.Her beams bemocked the sultry main,Like April hoar-frost spread;PART VBut where the ship's huge shadow lay,Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,The charmèd water burnt alwayBeloved from pole to pole!A still and awful red.To Mary Queen the praise be given!She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,Beyond the shadow of the ship,That slid into my soul.I watched the water-snakes:They moved in tracks of shining white,The silly buckets on the deck,And when they reared, the elfish lightThat had so long remained,Fell off in hoary flakes.I dreamt that they were filled with dew;And when I awoke, it rained.Within the shadow of the shipI watched their rich attire:My lips were wet, my throat was cold,Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,My garments all were dank;They coiled and swam; and every trackSure I had drunken in my dreams,Was a flash of golden fire.And still my body drank.O happy living things! no tongueI moved, and could not feel my limbs:Their beauty might declare:I was so light—almostA spring of love gushed from my heart,I thought that I had died in sleep,And I blessèd them unaware:And was a blessed ghost.Sure my kind saint took pity on me,And I blessed them unaware.And soon I heard a roaring wind:It did not come anear;The self-same moment I could pray;But with its sound it shook the sails,And from my neck so freeThat were so thin and sere.The Albatross fell off, and sank7
The upper air burst into life!The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;And a hundred fire-flags sheen,Yet never a breeze up-blew;To and fro they were hurried about!The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,And to and fro, and in and out,Where they were wont to do;The wan stars danced between.They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—We were a ghastly crew.And the coming wind did roar more loud,And the sails did sigh like sedge,The body of my brother's sonAnd the rain poured down from one black cloud;Stood by me, knee to knee:The Moon was at its edge.The body and I pulled at one rope,But he said nought to me.The thick black cloud was cleft, and stillThe Moon was at its side:'I fear thee, ancient Mariner!'Like waters shot from some high crag,Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!The lightning fell with never a jag,'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,A river steep and wide.Which to their corses came again,But a troop of spirits blest:The loud wind never reached the ship,Yet now the ship moved on!For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,Beneath the lightning and the MoonAnd clustered round the mast;The dead men gave a groan.Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,And from their bodies passed.They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;Around, around, flew each sweet sound,It had been strange, even in a dream,Then darted to the Sun;To have seen those dead men rise.Slowly the sounds came back again,Now mixed, now one by one.8
Sometimes a-dropping from the skyI heard the sky-lark sing;The Sun, right up above the mast,Sometimes all little birds that are,Had fixed her to the ocean:How they seemed to fill the sea and airBut in a minute she 'gan stir,With their sweet jargoning!With a short uneasy motion—Backwards and forwards half her lengthAnd now 'twas like all instruments,With a short uneasy motion.Now like a lonely flute;And now it is an angel's song,Then like a pawing horse let go,That makes the heavens be mute.She made a sudden bound:It flung the blood into my head,It ceased; yet still the sails made onAnd I fell down in a swound.A pleasant noise till noon,A noise like of a hidden brookHow long in that same fit I lay,In the leafy month of June,I have not to declare;That to the sleeping woods all nightBut ere my living life returned,Singeth a quiet tune.I heard and in my soul discernedTwo voices in the air.Till noon we quietly sailed on,Yet never a breeze did breathe:'Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man?Slowly and smoothly went the ship,By him who died on cross,Moved onward from beneath.With his cruel bow he laid full lowThe harmless Albatross.Under the keel nine fathom deep,From the land of mist and snow,The spirit who bideth by himselfThe spirit slid: and it was heIn the land of mist and snow,That made the ship to go.He loved the bird that loved the manThe sails at noon left off their tune,Who shot him with his bow.'And the ship stood still also.9
The other was a softer voice,Second VoiceAs soft as honey-dew:'The air is cut away before,Quoth he, 'The man hath penance done,And closes from behind.And penance more will do.'Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high!PART VIOr we shall be belated:For slow and slow that ship will go,First VoiceWhen the Mariner's trance is abated.''But tell me, tell me! speak again,Thy soft response renewing—I woke, and we were sailing onWhat makes that ship drive on so fast?As in a gentle weather:What is the ocean doing?''Twas night, calm night, the moon was high;The dead men stood together.Second VoiceStill as a slave before his lord,All stood together on the deck,The ocean hath no blast;For a charnel-dungeon fitter:His great bright eye most silentlyAll fixed on me their stony eyes,Up to the Moon is cast—That in the Moon did glitter.If he may know which way to go;The pang, the curse, with which they died,For she guides him smooth or grim.Had never passed away:See, brother, see! how graciouslyI could not draw my eyes from theirs,She looketh down on him.'Nor turn them up to pray.First VoiceAnd now this spell was snapt: once more'But why drives on that ship so fast,I viewed the ocean green,Without or wave or wind?'And looked far forth, yet little sawOf what had else been seen—10
Like one, that on a lonesome roadO let me be awake, my God!Doth walk in fear and dread,Or let me sleep alway.And having once turned round walks on,And turns no more his head;The harbour-bay was clear as glass,Because he knows, a frightful fiendSo smoothly it was strewn!Doth close behind him tread.And on the bay the moonlight lay,And the shadow of the Moon.But soon there breathed a wind on me,Nor sound nor motion made:The rock shone bright, the kirk no less,Its path was not upon the sea,That stands above the rock:In ripple or in shade.The moonlight steeped in silentnessThe steady weathercock.It raised my hair, it fanned my cheekLike a meadow-gale of spring—And the bay was white with silent light,It mingled strangely with my fears,Till rising from the same,Yet it felt like a welcoming.Full many shapes, that shadows were,In crimson colours came.Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,Yet she sailed softly too:A little distance from the prowSweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—Those crimson shadows were:On me alone it blew.I turned my eyes upon the deck—Oh, Christ! what saw I there!Oh! dream of joy! is this indeedThe light-house top I see?Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,Is this the hill? is this the kirk?And, by the holy rood!Is this mine own countree?A man all light, a seraph-man,On every corse there stood.We drifted o'er the harbour-bar,And I with sobs did pray—11
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:PART VIIIt was a heavenly sight!This Hermit good lives in that woodThey stood as signals to the land,Which slopes down to the sea.Each one a lovely light;How loudly his sweet voice he rears!He loves to talk with marineresThis seraph-band, each waved his hand,That come from a far countree.No voice did they impart—No voice; but oh! the silence sankHe kneels at morn, and noon, and eve—Like music on my heart.He hath a cushion plump:It is the moss that wholly hidesBut soon I heard the dash of oars,The rotted old oak-stump.I heard the Pilot's cheer;My head was turned perforce awayThe skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk,And I saw a boat appear.'Why, this is strange, I trow!Where are those lights so many and fair,The Pilot and the Pilot's boy,That signal made but now?'I heard them coming fast:Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said—The dead men could not blast.'And they answered not our cheer!The planks looked warped! and see those sails,I saw a third—I heard his voice:How thin they are and sere!It is the Hermit good!I never saw aught like to them,He singeth loud his godly hymnsUnless perchance it wereThat he makes in the wood.He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash awayBrown skeletons of leaves that lagThe Albatross's blood.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.'12
'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look—I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked(The Pilot made reply)And fell down in a fit;I am a-feared'—'Push on, push on!'The holy Hermit raised his eyes,Said the Hermit cheerily.And prayed where he did sit.The boat came closer to the ship,I took the oars: the Pilot's boy,But I nor spake nor stirred;Who now doth crazy go,The boat came close beneath the ship,Laughed loud and long, and all the whileAnd straight a sound was heard.His eyes went to and fro.'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full plain I see,Under the water it rumbled on,The Devil knows how to row.'Still louder and more dread:It reached the ship, it split the bay;And now, all in my own countree,The ship went down like lead.I stood on the firm land!The Hermit stepped forth from the boat,Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,And scarcely he could stand.Which sky and ocean smote,Like one that hath been seven days drownedMy body lay afloat;'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!'But swift as dreams, myself I foundThe Hermit crossed his brow.Within the Pilot's boat.'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say—What manner of man art thou?'Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,The boat spun round and round;Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenchedAnd all was still, save that the hillWith a woful agony,Was telling of the sound.Which forced me to begin my tale;And then it left me free.13
Since then, at an uncertain hour,That agony returns:And till my ghastly tale is told,This heart within me burns.To walk together to the kirk,And all together pray,While each to his great Father bends,Old men, and babes, and loving friendsAnd youths and maidens gay!I pass, like night, from land to land;I have strange power of speech;That 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:But in the garden-bower the brideAnd bride-maids singing are:Farewell, farewell! but this I tellTo thee, thou Wedding-Guest!He prayeth well, who loveth wellBoth man and bird and beast.He prayeth best, who loveth bestAll things both great and small;For the dear God who loveth us,He made and loveth all.And hark the little vesper bell,Which biddeth me to prayer!The Mariner, whose eye is bright,Whose beard with age is hoar,O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath beenAlone on a wide wide sea:Is gone: and now the Wedding-GuestTurned from the bridegroom's door.So lonely 'twas, that God himselfScarce seemed there to be.He went like one that hath been stunned,And is of sense forlorn:O sweeter than the marriage-feast,'Tis sweeter far to me,A sadder and a wiser man,He rose the morrow morn.To walk together to the kirkWith a goodly company!—14
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 drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top. The Sun came up upon the left, Out of the sea came he!
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THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER Music: J. Mark Scearce Choreography: Robert Weiss Libretto: Robert Weiss and J. Mark Scearce based on the poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, The Rime of the Ancient Mariner Scenic Design: Jeff A. R. Jones Costume Design: Kerri L. Martinsen Lighting Design: Ross Kolman Ancient Mariner .
photo: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, by richard Hubert smith. 3 ·The Rime of The AncienT mARineR THE COMpanY Fiona Shaw has, in her 30-year career, become one of the world’s most honored and admired actresses and directors of stage, screen, and television. among her notable stage triumphs are her
