39. "And soon I heard a roaring wind;
It did not come anear,

But with its sound it shook the sails,
That were so thin and sear.

40. "The upper air burst into life!
And a hundred fire-flags sheen,
To and fro they were hurried about!
And to and fro, and in and out,

The wan stars danced between.

41. "And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge,

And the rain poured down from one black cloud-
The moon was at its edge.

42. "The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The moon was at its side:

Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.

43. "The helmsman steered, the ship moved on,
Yet never a breeze upblew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Where they were wont to do.

44. "Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;

Sometimes all little birds that are,

How they seemed to fill the sea and air
With their sweet jargoning!

45. "And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute,

And now it is an angel's song,

That makes the heavens be mute.

46. "It ceased; yet still the sails made on A pleasant noise till noon,

A noise like of a hidden brook

In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.

47. "Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.

48. "Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship,
Yet she sailed softly too:

Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze—
On me alone it blew.

49. "Oh, dream of joy! is this, indeed,
The lighthouse top I see?

Is this the hill? Is this the kirk?
Is this mine own countree?

50. "We drifted o'er the harbor-bar,
And I with sobs did pray,
'Oh, let me be awake, my God!
Or let me sleep alway.""

IV. THE SHRIFT OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

51. "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.

666

52. "O shrive me, shrive me, holy man!'
The hermit crossed his brow.

'Say quick,' quoth he, ‘I bid thee say,
What manner of man art thou?'

53. "Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony,

Which forced me to begin my tale,

And then it left me free.

54. "Since then, at an uncertain hour,
That agony returns;

And till my ghastly tale is told,
This heart within me burns.

55. "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.

56. "What loud uproar bursts from that door!
The wedding-guests are there:
But in the garden-bower the bride
And bridemaids singing are:
And hark! the little vesper-bell

Which biddeth me to prayer.

57. "O wedding-guest! this soul hath been
Alone on a wide, wide sea:
So lonely 'twas, that God himself
Scarce seeméd there to be.

58. "Oh, sweeter than the marriage-feast, 'Tis sweeter far to me,

To walk together to the kirk
With a goodly company-

59. "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!

60. "Farewell! farewell! but this I tell
To thee, thou wedding-guest :
He prayeth well, who loveth well
Both man and bird and beast.

61. "He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all."

62. 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.

63. He went like one that hath been stunned,
And is of sense forlorn;

A sadder and a wiser man

He rose the morrow morn.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

FOR PREPARATION.-I. What is an albatross? What superstition rcgarding it among sailors? (See 23.) Does the sun ordinarily appear “bigger than the moon" to us? (27.) Of this remarkable poem less than onehalf is given here, omission being made of most of the middle part, viz.: thirty-two stanzas that follow No. 34 here given; two stanzas that follow No. 42; four stanzas that follow No. 43; twenty stanzas that follow No. 47; twenty-two stanzas that follow No. 50; in all, eighty stanzas are omitted

and only sixty-three are given. Those omitted relate the dreadful death of the crew by starvation, and their ghostly performances afterward; finally, the sinking of the phantom ship with its phantom crew when in sight of the home port.

II. An'-cient (-shent), guest (gést), tyr'-an-nous, shrink, ghast'-ly, soot, aye (ā).

III. Note the imitation of old English style in this poem; it appears in words, phrases, and rhymes; some of the "archaisms," as they are called, are eftsoons (eft, after—soon after), swound (swoon), clift (cliff), thorough (16) (through), uprist (24) (uprose), silly (36) (frail). Difference between ate and eat and eaten?

IV. Kin, din, quoth, mariner, kirk, bassoon, minstrelsy, prow, sheen, ken, vespers, averred, fathom, "moon was at its edge," jargoning, hermit, agony, vesper, hoar.

V. "We drop below the kirk" (i. e., as they sail over the sea which bends round the earth, the curvature prevents them first from seeing low objects, and then the high ones). "Mayst hear" (2) (“thou” omitted). 'As who pursued" (for "as one who," etc.). “Aye” (12) (always). "Shrive" and "shrift" (confess and confession).

CXLII.-MAN A TOOL-USING ANIMAL.

1. "But on the whole," continues our eloquent professor, "man is a tool-using animal. Weak in himself, and of small stature, he stands on a basis, at most for the flattest-soled, of some half square-foot, insecurely enough; has to straddle out his legs, lest the very winds supplant him.

2. "Feeblest of bipeds! Three quintals are a crushing load for him. The steer of the meadow tosses him aloft like a waste rag.

3. "Nevertheless, he can use tools, can devise tools. With these, the granite mountain melts into light dust before him. He kneads glowing iron as if it were soft