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ਜਾਂਦਾ ਏ ?
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
Were given to ease his ever-troubled mind;
The child still listen'd with increasing joy,
At length he sicken'd, and this duteous child
Watch'd o'er his sickness, and his pains beguiled;
The mother bade him from the loft refrain,
But, though with caution, yet he went again;
And now his tales the sailor feebly told,
Purloin'd or purchased, for he saw, with shame,
Exclaim’d, “she saw no value in his life;
But, sick or well, to my commands attend,
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!
Stealing in silence-for he knew his doom.
“ George are you ill?"--and hurried him away;
" Ah!" thought the seaman, “ what a head was But truly kind, the gentle boy essay'd
To cheer his uncle, firm, although afraid;
But now the father caught him at the door,
And, swearing-yes, the inan in office swore,
That one so old can be so ill advised:
Let him not dare to visit you again,
Your cursed stories will disturb his brain;
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;
And BE Now
“Uncle!” he cried, and softly tapp'd the door; Not as with wooden limb, and seaman's tale,
He now the worth and grief alone can view
And I to break it-'twas a Dæmon's part!"
So Isaac now, as led by conscience, feels,
My gentle brother, whom I could not pay,
He takes his son, and bids the boy unfold
All the good uncle of his feelings told,
(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
That he repenting feels the debt he owes,
He takes no joy in office, honours, gain;
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
It is an ancient Mariner,
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:
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
“ God save thee, ancient Mariner!
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,
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
A something in the sky.
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
A certain shape, I wist.
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.
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?
Is Death that woman's mate?
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.
The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice;
“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 cold sweat melted from their limbs,
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 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
Fell off in hoary flakes.
I watch'd their rich attire:
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
swam; and And thou art long, and lauk, and brown,
Was a flash of golden fire.
O happy living things! no tongue
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,
And I blessed them unaware.
The self same moment I could pray;
And from my neck so free
The Albatross fell off, and sank
Like lead into the sea.
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.