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My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

Around, around, flew each sweet sound, My garments all were dank;

Then darted to the sun; Sure I had drunken in my dreams,

Slowly the sounds came back again, And still my body drank.

Now mixed, now one by one. I moved, and could not feel my limbs :

Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I was so light-almost

I heard the sky-lark sing; I thought that I had died in sleep,

Sometimes all little birds that are, And was a blessed ghost.

How they seem'd to fill the sea and air

With their sweet jargoning! And soon I heard a roaring wind:

And now 'twas like all instruments, It did not come anear;

Now like a lonely flute; But with its sound it shook the sails,

And now it is an angel's song, That were so thin and sere.

That makes the Heavens be mute. The upper air burst into life!

It ceased; yet still the sails made on And a hundred fire-flags sheen,

A pleasant noise till noon, To and fro they were hurried about;

A noise like of a hidden brook And to and fro, and in and out,

In the leafy month of June, The wan stars danced between.

That to the sleeping woods all night And the coming wind did roar more loud,

Singeth a quiet tune. And the sails did sigh like sedge;

Till noon we quietly sailed on, And the rain pour'd down from one black cloud; Yet never a breeze did breathe: The moon was at its edge.

Slowly and smoothly went the ship,

Moved onward from beneath.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still

Under the keel nine fathom deep,
The moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,

From the land of mist and snow,
The lightning fell with never a jag,

The spirit slid: and it was he

That made the ship to go. A river steep and wide.

The sails at noon left off their tune, The loud wind never reached the ship,

And the ship stood still also. Yet now the ship moved on!

The sun, right up above the mast, Beneath the lightning and the moon

Had fixt her to the ocean; The dead men gave a groan.

But in a minute she 'gan stir,

With a short uneasy motionThey groan'd, they stirr'd, they all uprose,

Backwards and forwards half her length, Nor spake, nor moved their eyes; It had been strange, even in a dream,

With a short uneasy motion. To have seen those dead men rise.

Then like a pawing horse let go,

She made a sudden bound: The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;

It Alung the blood into my head,
Yet never a breeze up blew;

And I fell down in a swound.
The mariners all ’gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do:

How long in that same fit I lay,
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools

I have not to declare; We were a ghastly crew.

But ere my living life returned,

I heard and in my soul discerned
The body of my brother's son

Two voices in the air.
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,

“ Is it he?" quoth one, " Is this the man?

By him who died on cross, But he said nought to me.

With his cruel bow he laid full low, “ I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"

The harmless Albatross. Be calm thou wedding-guest!

The spirit who bideth by himself 'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,

In the land of mist and snow, Which to their corses came again,

He loved the bird that loved the man But a troop of spirits blest:

Who shot him with his bow." For when it dawned-they dropped their arms, The other was a softer voice, And clustered round the mast;

As soft as honey-dew: Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths, Quoth he, “ The man hath penance done, And from their bodies passed.

And penance more will do."



It mingled strangely with my fears,

Yet it felt like a welcoming. But tell me, tell me! speak again,

Swiftly, swiftly, flew the ship, Thy soft response renewing

Yet she sailed softly too: What makes that ship drive on so fast?

Sweetly, sweetly, blew the breezeWhat is the ocean doing?

On me alone it blew.

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A little distance from the prow
Those crimson shadows were:
I turned my eyes upon the deck-
Oh, Christ! what saw I there!

I woke, and we were sailing on
As in a gentle weather:
'Twas night, calm night, the moon was high ;
The dead men stood together.
All stood together on the deck,
For a charnel-dungeon fitter:
All fixed on me their stony eyes,
That in the moon did glitter.
The pang, the curse, with which they died,
Had never passed away:
I could not draw my eyes from theirs,
Nor turn them up to pray.
And now this spell was snapt : once more
I viewed the ocean green,
And looked far forth, yet little saw
Of what had else been seen

Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
And, by the holy rood!
A man all light, a seraph-man,
On every corse there stood.
This seraph-band, each waved his hand:
It was a heavenly sight!
They stood as signals to the land,
Each one a lovely light:
This seraph-band, each waved his hand,
No voice did they impart-
No voice; but oh! the silence sank
Like music on my heart.
But soon 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.
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.

Like one, that on a lonesome road
Doth walk in fear and dread,
And having once turn'd round, walks on,
And turns no more his head;
Because he knows, a frightful fiend
Doth close behind him tread.

But soon there breathed a wind on me,
Nor sound nor motion made :
Its path was not upon the sea,
In ripple or in shade.
It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek
Like a meadow-gale of spring-

I saw a third-I heard his voice:
It is the hermit good!
He singeth loud his godly hymns

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That he makes in the wood.

I took the oars: the pilot's boy, He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away

Who now doth crazy go, The Albatross's blood.

Laughed loud and long, and all the while

His eyes went to and fro.

“ Ha! ha!" quoth he, “ full plain I see, This hermit good lives in that wood

The devil knows how to row." Which slopes down to the sea.

And now, all in my own countree, How loudly his sweet voice he rears!

I stood on the firm land! He loves to talk with marineres

The hermit stepped forth from the boat,
That come from a far countree.

And scarcely he could stand.
He kneels at morn, and noon and eve-
He hath a cushion plump:

“ O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"

The hermit cross'd his brow.
It is the moss that wholly hides
The rotted old oak-stump.

“ Say quick," quoth he, “ I bid thee say

What manner of man art thou?" The Skiff-boat near'd: I heard them talk,

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrench'd Why this is strange, I trow!

With a woeful agony, Where are those lights so many and fair,

Which forced me to begin my tale; That signal made but now?"

And then it left me free. “Strange, by my faith!" the Hermit said

Since then at an uncertain hour, “ And they answered not our cheer!

That agony returns ; The planks look warped! and see those sails,

And till my ghastly tale is told,
How thin they are and sere!

This heart within me burns.
I never saw ought like to them,
Unless perchance it were


pass, like night, from land to land; The skeletons of leaves that lag

I have strange power of speech;

That moment that his face I see,
My forest-brook along:

I know the man that must hear me:
When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow,
And the owlet whoops to the wolf below,

To him my tale I teach.
That eats the she-wolf's young."

What loud uproar bursts from that door! Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look

The wedding-guests are there;

But in the garden-bower the bride (The pilot made reply)

And bride-maids singing are; I am a-feared--Push on, push on!

And hark the little vesper bell, Said the hermit cheerily.

Which biddeth me to prayer! The boat came closer to the ship,

O wedding-guest! this soul hath been
But I nor spake nor stirred;

Alone on a wide wide sea:
The boat came close beneath the ship,
And straight a sound was heard.

So lonely 'twas, that God himself

Scarce seemed there to be. Under the water it rumbled on,

O sweeter than the marriage-feast, Still louder and more dread:

'Tis sweeter far to me, It reach'd the ship, it split the bay; The ship went down like lead.

To walk together to the kirk

With a goodly company!-
Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound,
Which sky and ocean smote,

To walk together to the kirk,
Like one that hath been seven days drown'd,

And all together pray, My body lay afloat;

While each to his great Father bends. But swift as dreams, myself I found

Old men, and babes, and loving friends, Within the pilot's boat.

And youths and maidens gay! Upon the whirl, where sank the ship,

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell The boat spun round and round;

To thee, thou wedding-guest! And all was still, save that the hill

He prayeth well, who loveth well Was telling of the sound.

Both man and bird and beast. I moved my lips—the pilot shrieked

He prayeth best, who loveth best And fell down in a fit;

All things both great and small; The holy hermit raised his eyes,

For the dear God who loveth us, nd prayed where he did sit.

He made and loveth all.

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The Mariner, whose eye is bright,

Manes of th' unnumber'd slain! Whose beard with age is hoar,

Ye that gasp'd on Warsaw's plain! Is gone; and now the wedding-guest

Ye that erst at Ismail's tower, Turned from the bridegroom's door.

When human ruin choak'd the streams,

Fell in conquest's glutted hour, - He went like one that hath been stunned,

Mid women's shrieks and infant's screams! And is of sense forlorn :

Spirits of the uncoffin'd slain, A sadder and a wiser man,

Sudden blasts of triumph swelling, 27 He rose the morrow morn.

Oft, at night, in misty train,

Rush around her narrow dwelling ! ODE TO THE DEPARTING YEAR.

The exterminating fiend is fled

(Foul her life, and dark her doom) I.

Mighty armies of the dead, Spirit who sweepest the wild harp of tiine !

Dance like death-fires round her tomb! It is most hard, with an untroubled ear

Then with prophetic song relate, Thy dark inwoven harmonies to hear!

Each some tyrant-murderer's fate! Yet, mine eye fixt on Heaven's unchanging clime,

IV. - Long had I listened, free from mortal fear,

With inward stillness, and submitted mind; Departing Year! 'twas on no earthly shore
When lo! its folds far waving on the wind,

My soul beheld thy vision! where alone,
I saw the train of the departing year!

Voiceless and stern, before the cloudy throne, Starting from my silent sadness,

Aye Memory sits: thy robe inscrib'd with gore, Then with no unholy madness,

With many an unimaginable groan Ere yet the enter'd cloud foreclos’d my sight,

Thou storied'st thy sad hours! silence ensued, rais'd th’impetuous song, and solemnized his fight. Deep silence o'er th’ ethereal multitude,

Whose locks with wreaths, whose wreaths with II.

glories shone. Hither, from the recent tomb,

Then, his eye wild ardours glancing, From the prison's direr gloom,

From the choired Gods advancing, From distemper's midnight anguish ;

The spirit of the earth made reverence meet, And thence, where poverty doth waste and languish;

And stood up, beautiful, before the cloudy seat. Or where, his two bright torches blending,

Love illumines manhood's maze;
Or where o'er cradled infants bending

Throughout the blissful throng,
Hope has fix'd her wishful gaze.

Hush'd were harp and song:
Hither, in perplexed dance,

Till wheeling round the throne the Lampads seven, Ye woes! ye young-eyed joys! advance!

(The mystic words of Heaven) By time's wild harp, and by the hand

Permissive signal make;

[spake! Whose indefatigable sweep

The fervent spirit bow'd, then spread his wings and Raises it's fateful strings from sleep,

“ Thou in stormy blackness throning I bid you haste, a mixt tumultuous band !

Love and uncreated light,
From every private bower,

By the earth's unsolaced groaning,
And each domestic hearth,

Seize thy terrors, arm of might!
Haste for one solemn hour;

By peace, with proffer'd insult scar'd, And with a loud and yet a louder voice,

Masked hate and envying scorn!
D'er nature struggling in portentous birth,

By years of havoc yet unborn!
Weep and rejoice!

And Hunger's bosom to the frost-winds bared! Still echoes the dread Name, that o'er the earth

But chief by Afric's wrongs, Let slip the storm, and woke the brood of hell.

Strange, horrible, and foul! And now advance in saintly jubilee

By what deep guilt belongs ustice and Truth! they too have heard thy spell, To the deaf Synod, · full of gifts and lies!' They too obey thy name, Divinest Liberty! By Wealth's insensate laugh! by Torture's howl!

Avenger, rise!

For ever shall the thankless Island scowl, mark'd Ambition in his war-array!

Her quiver full, and with unbroken bow? I heard the mailed Monarch's troublous cry

Speak! from thy storm-black Heaven Ospeak aloud! Ah! wherefore does the Northern Conqueress stay?

And on the darkling foe Groans not her chariot on its onward way?" Open thine eye of fire from some uncertain cloud ! Fly, mailed Monarch, fly!

O dart the flash! O rise and deal the blow! Stunned by Death's twice mortal mace,

The past to thee, to thee the future cries ! No more on Murder's lurid face

Hark! how wide Nature joins her groans below! h' insatiate hag shall glote with drunken eye!

Rise, God of Nature ! rise."



Have wailed my country with a loud lament. The voice had ceased, the vision fled;

Now I recenter my immortal mind Yet still I gasp'd and reeld with dread.

In the deep sabbath of meek self-coutent; And ever, when the dream of night

Cleans'd from the vaporous passions that beda Renews the phantom to my sight,

God's image, sister of the Seraphim. Cold sweat-drops gather on my limbs;

My ears throb hot; my eye-balls start; My brain with horrid tumult swims;

FEARS IN SOLITUDE. Wild is the tempest of my heart;

WRITTEN IN 1798, DURING THE ALARM OF A And my thick and struggling breath Imitates the toil of death! No stranger agony confounds

A green and silent spot, amid the hills, The soldier on the war-field spread,

A small and silent dell! O'er stiller place When all foredone with toil and wounds.

No singing sky-lark ever pois'd himself. Death-like he dozes among heaps of dead !

The hills are heathy, save that swelling slope. (The strife is o'er, the day-light fled,

Which hath a gay and gorgeous covering at, And the night-wind clamours hoarse !

All golden with the never-bloomless furze, See! the starting wretch's head

Which now blooms most profusely; but the del Lies pillow'd on a brother's corse !)

Bath'd by the mist, is fresh and delicate

As vernal corn-field, or the unripe flax. VII.

When, through its half-transparent stalks, at ere. Not yet enslav'd, not wholly vile,

The level sunshine glimmers with green ligbt

. O Albion! O my mother Isle!

Oh! 'tis a quiet spirit-healing nook! Thy vallies, fair as Eden's bowers,

Which all, methinks, would love; but chiefs be. Glitter green with sunny showers;

The humble man, who, in his youthful years, Thy grassy uplands' gentle swells

Knew just so much of folly, as had made Echo to the bleat of flocks;

His early manhood more securely wiše! (Those grassy hills, those glitt'ring dells

Here he might lie on fern or wither'd heath, Proudly ramparted with rocks)

While from the singing-lark (that sings unseca And Ocean mid his uproar wild

The minstrelsy that solitude loves best.) Speaks safety to his Island-child!

And from the sun, and from the breezy air, Hence, for many a fearless age,

Sweet influences trembled o'er bis frame; Has social Quiet lov'd thy shore;

And he, with many feelings, many thoughts, Nor ever proud invader's rage

Made up a meditative joy, and found Or sack'd thy towers, or stain'd thy fields with gore.

Religious meanings in the forms of nature!

And so his senses gradually wrapt

In a half sleep, he dreams of better worlds, Abandon’d of Heaven! mad avarice thy guide,

And dreaming hears thee still, O singing-lark, At cowardly distance, yet kindling with pride

That singest like an angel in the clouds! Mid thy herds and thy corn-fields secure thou hast stood,

My God! it is a melancholy thing And join’d the wild yelling of Famine and Blood!

For such a man, who would full fain presente The nations curse thee, and with eager wond'ring

His soul in calmness, yet perforce Shall hear Destruction, like a vulture, scream!

For all his human brethren-O my God! Strange-eyed Destruction ! who with many a

It is indeed a melancholy thing, dream

And weighs upon the heart, that he must think Of central fires thro' vether seas upthund'ring

What uproar and what strife may now be stirring Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies


way or that way o'er these silent hillsBy livid fount, or red volcanic stream,

Invasion, and the thunder and the shout, If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,

And all the crash of onset; fear and rage, O Albion ! thy predestin'd ruins rise,

And undetermin'd conflict-even now, The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap,

Even now, perchance, and in his native isle: Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep.

Carnage and groans beneath this blessed sun!

We have offended, Oh! my countrymen!

We have offended very grierously,
Away, my soul, away!
In vain, in vain the birds of warning sing-

Aud been most tyrannous. From east to west And hark! I hear the famish'd brood of prey

A groan of accusation pierces Heaven!

The wretched plead against us; multitudes Flap their lank pennons on the groaning wind!

Countless and vehement, the sons of God, Away, my soul, away!

Our brethren! like a cloud that travels on, I unpartaking of the evil thing,



from Cairo's swamps of pestilence, With daily prayer and daily toil Soliciting for food my scanty soil,

Ev'n so, my countrymen! have we gone forth
And borne to distant tribes slavery and panga


must feel

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