06 June, 2019

The ballad of the ancient mariner P4


PART IV 

'I fear thee, ancient Mariner! 
I fear thy skinny hand! 
And thou art long, and lank, and brown, 
As is the ribbed sea-sand. 

I fear thee and thy glittering eye, 
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'— 
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 
This body dropt not down. 

Alone, alone, all, all alone, 
Alone on a wide wide sea! 
And never a saint took pity on 
My soul in agony. 

The many men, so beautiful! 
And they all dead did lie: 
And a thousand thousand slimy things 
Lived on; and so did I. 

I looked upon the rotting sea, 
And drew my eyes away; 
I looked upon the rotting deck, 
And there the dead men lay. 

I looked to heaven, and tried to pray; 
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 
A wicked whisper came, and made 
My heart as dry as dust. 

I closed my lids, and kept them close, 
And the balls like pulses beat; 
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 
Lay dead like a load on my weary eye, 
And the dead were at my feet. 

The cold sweat melted from their limbs, 
Nor rot nor reek did they: 
The look with which they looked on me 
Had never passed away. 

An orphan's curse would drag to hell 
A spirit from on high; 
But oh! more horrible than that 
Is the curse in a dead man's eye! 

Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, 
And yet I could not die. 
The moving Moon went up the sky, 
And no where did abide: 

Softly she was going up, 
And a star or two beside— 
Her beams bemocked the sultry main, 
Like April hoar-frost spread; 

But where the ship's huge shadow lay, 
The charmèd water burnt alway 
A still and awful red. 
Beyond the shadow of the ship, 

I watched the water-snakes: 
They moved in tracks of shining white, 
And when they reared, the elfish light 
Fell off in hoary flakes. 

Within the shadow of the ship 
I watched their rich attire: 
Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, 
They coiled and swam; and every track 

Was a flash of golden fire. 
O happy living things! no tongue 
Their beauty might declare: 
A spring of love gushed from my heart, 

And I blessed them unaware: 
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. 

Samuel Taylor Coleridge