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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.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
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,
And I fell down in a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare; We were a ghastly crew.
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two voices in the air.
“ 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.
A little distance from the prow
I woke, and we were sailing on
Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat,
Like one, that on a lonesome road
But soon there breathed a wind on me,
I saw a third-I heard his voice:
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,
And scarcely he could stand.
“ O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!"
The hermit cross'd his brow.
“ 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,
This heart within me burns.
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,
I know the man that must hear me:
To him my tale I teach.
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
Alone on a wide wide sea:
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!-
To walk together to the kirk,
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.
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
My soul beheld thy vision! where alone,
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,
Throughout the blissful throng,
Hush'd were harp and song:
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,
By the earth's unsolaced groaning,
Seize thy terrors, arm of might!
By peace, with proffer'd insult scar'd, And with a loud and yet a louder voice,
Masked hate and envying scorn!
By years of havoc yet unborn!
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!
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,
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