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And then t' excuse it, is a woman's way;

Neglected, slighted, restless on his bed,

With heart half broken, and with scraps ill fed; He too was chidden when her rules he broke,

Yet was he pleased, that hours for play design’d
And then she sicken'd at the scent of smoke.

Were given to ease his ever-troubled mind;
George, though in doubt, was still consoled to find

The child still listen'd with increasing joy,
His brother wishing to be reckon’d kind:
That Isaac seem'd concern'd by his distress, And he was sooth'd by the attentive boy.
Gave to his injured feelings some redress;

At length he sicken'd, and this duteous child
But none he found disposed to lend an ear

Watch'd o'er his sickness, and his pains beguiled;
To stories, all were once intent to hear:

The mother bade him from the loft refrain,
Except his nephew, seated on his knee,

But, though with caution, yet he went again;
He found no creature cared about the sea;

And now his tales the sailor feebly told,
But George indeed-for George they call’d the boy, His heart was heavy, and his limbs were cold:
When bis good uncle was their boast and joy- The tender boy came often to entreat
Would listen long, and would contend with sleep, His good kind friend would of his presents eat;
To hear the woes and wonders of the deep;

Purloin'd or purchased, for he saw, with shame,
Till the fond mother cried—“That man will teach The food untouch'd that to his uncle came;
The foolish boy his loud and boisterous speech.” Who, sick in body and in mind, received
So judged the father-and the boy was taught The boy's indulgence, gratified and grieved.
To shun the uncle, whom his love had souglit. “ Uncle will die!” said George—the piteous wife
The mask of kindness now but seldom worn,

Exclaim’d, “she saw no value in his life;
George felt each evil harder to be borne;

But, sick or well, to my commands attend,
And cried (vexation growing day by day),

And go no more to your complaining friend." “Ah! brother Isaac !-What! I'm in the way!” The boy was vex’d, he felt his heart reprove “No! on my credit, look ye, No! but I

The stern decree.-What! punish'd for his love!
Am fond of peace, and my repose would buy No! he would go, but softly to the room,
On any terms-in short, we must comply:

Stealing in silence-for he knew his doom.
My spouse had money—she must have her will- Once in a week the father came to say,
Ah! brother-marriage is a bitter pill.”-

“ George are you ill?"--and hurried him away;
George tried the lady—“Sister, I offend." Yet to his wife would on their duties dwell,
“ Me:” she replied—“Oh no!-you may depend And often cry, " Do use my brother well;"
On my regard—but watch your brother's way, And something kind, no question, Isaac meant,
Whom I, like you, must study and obey." [mine, Who took vast credit for the vague intent.

" Ah!" thought the seaman, “ what a head was But truly kind, the gentle boy essay'd
That
easy birth at Greenwich to resign!

To cheer his uncle, firm, although afraid;
I'll to the parish”—but a little pride,

But now the father caught him at the door,
And some affection, put the thought aside.

And, swearing-yes, the inan in office swore,
Now gross neglect and open scorn he bore And cried, “ Away! how! brother, I'm surprised,
In silent sorrow-but he felt the more:

That one so old can be so ill advised:
The odious pipe he to the kitchen took,

Let him not dare to visit you again,
Or strove to profit by some pious book.

Your cursed stories will disturb his brain;
When the mind stoops to this degraded state, Is it not vile to court a foolish boy,
New griefs will darken the dependent's fate; Your own absurd narrations to enjoy ? [ree,
“ Brother!” said Isaac, “ you will sure excuse What! sullen! -- ha! George Fletcher? you shall
The little freedom I'm compellid to use:

Proud as you are, your bread depends on me!" My wife's relations—(curse the haughty crew)- He spoke, and, frowning, to his dinner went, Affect such niceness, and such dread of you:

Then cool'd and felt some qualms of discontent; You speak so loud—and they have natures soft- And thought on times when he compellid his son Brother-I wish-do go upon the loft!" To hear these stories, nay, to beg for one:

Poor George obey'd, and to the garret fed, But the wife's wrath o'ercame the brother's pain, Where not a being saw the tears he shed:

And shame was felt, and conscience rose in vain. But more was yet required, for guests were come, George yet stole up, he saw his uncle lie Who could not dine if he disgraced the room. Sick on the bed, and heard his heavy sigli It shock'd his spirit to be esteem'd unfit

So he resolved, before he went to rest, With an own brother and his wife to sit;

To comfort one so dear and so distress'd; He grew rebellious-at the vestry spoke

Then watch'd his time, but with a child-like art For weekly aid they heard it as a joke:

Betray'd a something treasured at his heart: “ So kind a brother, and so wealthy-you

Th’ observant wife remark’d, " the boy is grown Apply to us? -No! this will never do:

So like your brother, that he seems his own; Good neighbour Fletcher,” said the overseer,

So close and sullen! and I still suspect “ We are engaged—you can have nothing here!"

They often meet--do watch them and detect.” George mutter'd something in despairing tone,

George now remark'd that all was still as night, Then sought his loft, to think and grieve alone;

And hasten’d up with terror and delight;

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4 A

THET

And BE Now

“Uncle!” he cried, and softly tapp'd the door; Not as with wooden limb, and seaman's tale,
“ Do let me in"-but he could add no more; The odious pipe, vile grog, or humbler ale:
The careful father caught him in the fact,

He now the worth and grief alone can view
And cried, “You serpent! is it thus you act ? Of one so mild, so generous, and so true;
Back to your mother!”-and, with hasty blow, 6. The frank, kind brother, with such open heart,
He sent th' indignant boy to grieve below;

And I to break it-'twas a Dæmon's part!"
Then at the door an angry speech began-

So Isaac now, as led by conscience, feels,
“ Is this your conduct?—is it thus you plan? Nor his unkindness palliates or conceals;
Seduce my child, and make my house a scene “ This is your folly," said his heartless wife:
Of vile dispute-What is it that you mean :- “ Alas! my folly cost my brother's life;
George, are you dumb ? do learn to know your It suffer'd him to languish and decay,
friends,

My gentle brother, whom I could not pay,
And think awhile on whom your bread depends ! And therefore left to pine, and fret his life away.”
What! not a word ? be thankful I am cool-

He takes his son, and bids the boy unfold
But, sir, beware, nor longer play the fool;

All the good uncle of his feelings told,
Come! brother, come! what is it that you seek All he lamented and the ready tear
By this rebellioni-Speak, you villain, speak! - Falls as he listens, soothed, and grieved to hear.
Weeping! I warrant-sorrow makes you dumb: “ Did he not curse me, child ?" —“ He never
I'll ope your mouth, impostor! if I come:

cursed,

(burst:" Let me approach—I'll shake you from the bed, But could not breathe, and said his heart would You stubborn dog—Oh God! my brother's dead!” “ And so will mine:"_" Then, father, y

, you Timid was Isaac, and in all the past

My uncle said it took his pains away." (pray; He felt a purpose to be kind at last;

Repeating thus his sorrows, Isaac shows
Nor did he mean his brother to depart,

That he repenting feels the debt he owes,
Till he had shown this kindness of his heart: And from this source alone his every comfort flows
But day by day he put the cause aside,

He takes no joy in office, honours, gain;
Induced by av'rice, peevishness, or pride.

They make him humble, nay, they give him pain; But now awaken'd, from this fatal time

“ These from my heart,” he cries, “all feeling drove, His conscience Isaac felt, and found his crime: They inade me cold to nature, dead to love:" He raised to George a monumental stone,

He takes no joy in home, but sighing, sees And there retired to sigh and think alone;

A son in sorrow, and a wife at ease; An ague seized him, he grew pale, and shook- He takes no joy in office—see him now, “ So,” said his son, “ would my poor uncle look.” And Burgess Steel has but a passing bow; “ And so, my child, shall I like him expire." Of one sad train of gloomy thoughts possess'd, “ No! you have physic and a cheerful fire.”

He takes no joy in friends, in food, in rest “ Unhappy sinner! yes, I'm well supplied

Dark are the evil days, and void of peace the best With every comfort my cold heart denied.”

And thus he lives, if living be to sigh, He view'd his brother now, but not as one

And from all comforts of the world to fly, Who vex'd his wife by fondness for her son; Without a hope in life--without a wish to die.

And The Nav

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It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
The bridegroom's doors are open’d 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, grey-beard loon !"
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
He holds him with his glittering eye-
The wedding-guest stood still,
And listens like a three year's child:
The Mariner hath his will.

With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And forward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roar'd the blast, And southward aye we fled. And now there came both mist and snow, And it grew wonderous cold: And ice, mast-high, came floating by, As green as emerald. And through the drifts the snowy clift Did send a dismal sheen : Nor shapes of men nor beasts we kenThe ice was all between. The ice was here, the ice was there, The ice was all around: It cracked and growled, and roar'd and howld, Like noises in a swound! 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. 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 steer'd us through! And a good south wind sprung up behind; The Albatross did follow, And every day, for food or play, Came to the Mariner's hollo!

The wedding-guest sat on a stone:
He cannot chuse but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.
“ The ship was cheer'd, the harbour clear'd,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top.
The sun came up upon the left,
Out of the sea came he;
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perch'd for vespers nine ;
Whilst all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white moon-shine.

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

Higher and higher every day, Till over the mast at noon”The wedding-guest here beat his breast, For he heard the loud bassoon. The bride hath paced into the hall, Red as a rose is she; Nodding their heads before her goes The merry minstrelsy. The wedding-guest he beat his breast, Yet he can not chuse but hear; And thus spake on that ancient man, The bright-eyed Mariner. “And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along.

PART II. 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.

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!

bit my arm,

And I had done an hellish thing,

A weary time! a weary time! And it would work 'em woe:

How glazed each weary eye! For all averred, I had killed the bird

When looking westward, I beheld
That made the breeze to blow.

A something in the sky.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,
That made the breeze to blow!

At first it seem'd a little speck,

And then it seem'd a mist: Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,

It moved and moved, and took at last
The glorious sun uprist:

A certain shape, I wist.
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist.

A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,

And still it near'd and near'd: That bring the fog and mist.

And as if it dodged a water-sprite, The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

It plunged and tack'd and veer'd. The furrow stream'd off free:

With throat unslack'd, with black lips baked. We were the first that ever burst

We could nor laugh nor wail ; Into that silent sea.

Through utter drought all dumb we stoo!! Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,

I sucked the blood, 'Twas sad as sad could be;

And cried, A sail! a sail! And we did speak only to break

With throat unslacked, with black lips baied, The silence of the sea !

Agape they heard me call: All in a hot and copper sky,

Gramercy! they for joy did grin, The bloody sun, at noon,

And all at once their breath drew in, Right up above the mast did stand,

As they were drinking all. No bigger than the moon.

See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! Day after day, day after day,

Hither to work us weal; We stuck, nor breath nor motion,

Without a breeze, without a tide, As idle as a painted ship

She steddies with upright keel! Upon a painted ocean.

The western wave was all a-flame. Water, water, every where,

The day was well nigh done! And all the boards did shrink;

Almost upon the western wave Water, water, every where,

Rested the broad bright sun; Nor any drop to drink.

When that strange shape drove suddenly

Betwixt us and the sun.
The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!

And straight the sun was flecked with bars, Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

(Heaven's mother send us grace!) Upon the slimy sea.

As if through a dungeon-grate he peerd, About, about, in reel and rout

With broad and burning face. The death-fires danced at night;

Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat lood) The water, like a witch's oils,

How fast she nears and nears! Burnt green, and blue and white.

Are those her sails that glance in the sun, And some in dreams assured were

Like restless gossameres ! Of the spirit that plagued us so:

Are those her ribs through which the sun Nine fathom deep he had followed us

Did peer, as through a grate? From the land of mist and snow.

And is that woman all her crew? And every tongue, through utter drought,

Is that a Death ? and are there two?
Was wither'd at the root;

Is Death that woman's mate?
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choak'd with soot.

Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks were yellow as gold: Ah! well a-day! what evil looks

Her skin was as white as leprosy, Had I from old and young!

The Night-mair Life-in-Death was she, Instead of the cross, the Albatross

Who thicks man's blood with cold.
About my neck was hung.

The naked hulk alongside came,
PART III.

And the twain were casting dice;
There passed a weary time. Each throat

“The game is done! I've won, I've won!" Was parched, and glazed each eye.

Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

A gust of wind sterte up behind

I closed my lids, and kept them close, And whistled through his bones; (mouth, And the balls like pulses beat; Through the holes of his eyes and the hole of his For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky Half whistles and half groans.

Lay, like a cloud, on my weary eye,

And the dead were at my feet.
The sun's rim dips; the stars rush out:
At one stride comes the dark ;

The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,

Nor rot nor reek did they: Off shot the spectre-bark.

The look with which they look'd on me

Had never pass'd away. We listen'd and look'd sideways up! fear at my heart, as at a cup,

An orphan's curse would drag to hell My life-blood seem'd to sip!

A spirit from on high: The stars were dim, and thick the night,

But oh! more horrible than that The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd white;

Is the curse in a dead man's eye! from the sails the dews did drip

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, Vill clombe above the eastern bar

And yet I could not die.
The horned moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

The moving moon went up the sky,

And no where did abide : One after one, by the star-dogg'd moon

Softly she was going up, Too quick for groan or sigh,

And a star or two beside Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang,

Her beams bemock'd the sultry main, And curs'd me with his eye.

Like April hoar-frost spread; four times fifty living men,

But where the ship's huge shadow lay, And I heard nor sigh nor groan)

The charmed water burnt alway With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,

A still and awful red. They dropped down one by one.

Beyond the shadow of the ship, The souls did from their bodies fly,

I watch'd the water-snakes: They fed to bliss or woe!

They moved in tracks of shining white, And every soul, it passed me by,

And when they reared, the elfish light
Like the whiz of my cross-bow!

Fell off in hoary flakes.
Within the shadow of the ship

I watch'd their rich attire:
" I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
I fear thy skinny hand!

Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
They coiled and

swam; and And thou art long, and lauk, and brown,

Was a flash of golden fire.
As is the ribbed sea-sand.
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,

O happy living things! no tongue
And thy skinny hand, so brown.".

Their beauty might declare: Fear not, sear not, thou wedding-guest!

A spring of love gusht from my heart,

And I blessed them unaware! This body dropt not down.

Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
Alone, alone, all, all alone,

And I blessed them unaware.
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on

The self same moment I could pray;
My soul in agony.

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank
The many men, so beautiful!

Like lead into the sea.
And they all dead did lie:
And a thousand thousand slimy things

PART V.
Livd on; and so did I.

O sleep! it is a gentle thing, I look'd upon the rotting sea,

Belov'd from pole to pole! And drew my eyes away;

To Mary Queen the praise be given! I look'd upon the rotting deck,

She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, And there the dead men lay.

That slid into my soul. I look'd to Heaven, and tried to pray;

The silly buckets on the deck, But or ever a prayer had gusht,

That had so long remained, A wicked whisper came, and made

I dreamt that they were filled with dew; My heart as dry as dust.

And when I awoke, it rained.

PART IV.

every track

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