The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the
Hermit to
shrieve him; and the penance of life
falls on him
And ever and
anon through
out his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land,
Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, The boat spun round and round; And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound.
I moved my lips-the Pilot shrieked And fell down in a fit;
The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit.
I took the oars: the Pilot's boy, Who now doth crazy go,
Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro.
"Ha! ha!" quoth he, “full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row."
And now, all in my own countree,
I stood on the firm land!
The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand.
"O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!" The Hermit crossed his brow.
Say quick," quoth he, "I bid thee sayWhat manner of man art thou?"
Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony,
Which forced me to begin my tale; And then it left me free.
Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns:
And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns.
I pass, like night, from land to land; 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!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride And bride-maids singing are: And hark the little vesper bell Which biddeth me to prayer!
O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be.
O sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!-
To walk together to the kirk,
And all together pray,
While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!
Farewell, farewell! but this I tell To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast.
He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; For the dear God who loveth us, He made and loveth all.
The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is hoar, Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest Turned from the bridegroom's door.
And to teach, by his own example,
love and rev
erence to all things that
God made and loveth
He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man,
He rose the morrow morn.
IN Xanadu did Kubla Khan
A stately pleasure-dome decree: Where Alph, the sacred river, ran Through caverns measureless to man Down to a sunless sea.
So twice five miles of fertile ground
With walls and towers were girdled round:
And here were gardens bright with sinuous rills, Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree And here were forests ancient as the hills, Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.
But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By woman wailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, with ceaseless turmoil seething, As if this earth in fast thick pants were breathing,
A mighty fountain momently was forced;
Amid whose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail, Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail: And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever It flung up momently the sacred river. Five miles meandering with a mazy motion Through wood and dale the sacred river ran, Then reached the caverns measureless to man, And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war!
The shadow of the dome of pleasure Floated midway on the waves; Where was heard the mingled measure From the fountain and the caves.
It was a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome with caves of ice!
A damsel with a dulcimer
In a vision once I saw: It was an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played, Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive within me Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'twould win me, That with music loud and long,
I would build that dome in air, That sunny dome! those caves of ice! And all who heard should see them there, And all should cry, Beware! Beware! His flashing eyes, his floating hair! Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes with holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed,
And drunk the milk of Paradise.
VERSE, a breeze 'mid blossoms straying, Where Hope clung feeding, like a bee- Both were mine! Life went a-maying With Nature, Hope, and Poesy, When I was young!
When I was young?-Ah, woful when! Ah! for the change 'twixt Now and Then! This breathing house not built with hands, This body that does me grievous wrong,
O'er aery cliffs and glittering sands How lightly then it flash'd along:
Like those trim skiffs, unknown of yore, On winding lakes and rivers wide, That ask no aid of sail or oar,
That fear no spite of wind or tide! Nought cared this body for wind or weather When Youth and I lived in't together.
Flowers are lovely; Love is flower-like; Friendship is a sheltering tree;
O! the joys, that came down shower-like, Of Friendship, Love, and Liberty,
Ere I was old? Ah woful Ere,
Which tells me, Youth's no longer here. O Youth! for years so many and sweet, 'Tis known that Thou and I were one, I'll think it but a fond conceit- It cannot be, that Thou art gone! Thy vesper-bell hath not yet toll'd:- And thou wert aye a masker bold! What strange disguise hast now put on To make believe that Thou art gone? I see these locks in silvery slips, This drooping gait, this alter'd size: But Springtide blossoms on thy lips, And tears take sunshine from thine eyes! Life is but Thought: so think I will That Youth and I are housemates still.
Dew-drops are the gems of morning, But the tears of mournful eve! Where no hope is, life's a warning That only serves to make us grieve When we are old:
-That only serves to make us grieve With oft and tedious taking-leave, Like some poor nigh-related guest That may not rudely be dismist, Yet hath out-stay'd his welcome while, And tells the jest without the smile.
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