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My life-blood seemed to sip!
One after another,
One after one, by the star-dogged Moon,
Four times fifty living men,
The souls did from their bodies fly,–
work on the ancient Ma. riner.
“ I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner !
The wedding guest feareth that a spirit is talking to bim.
1 For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to
I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
But the an cient Mariner assure eth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.
Alone, alone, all, all alone,
He despiseth the creatures of the calm.
The many men, so beautiful !
I looked upon the rotting sea,
And envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.
I looked to heaven, and tried to pray ;
I closed my lids, and kept them close,
Mr. Wordsworth. It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey to Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the autumn of 1797, that this poem was planned, and in part composed.
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
But the corse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.
The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
An orphan's curse would drag to hell
yet I could not die.
In his loneli.
The moving Moon went up the sky, ness and fixedness he
And no where did abide : yearneth towards the Softly she was going up, journeying Moon, and And a star or two beside the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and every where the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they euter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.
Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
By the light of the Moon he beholdeth
Beyond the shadow of the ship,
They moved in tracks of shining white,
God's creatures of the great calm.
Within the shadow of the ship
track Was a flash of golden fire.
Their beauty and their happiness.
O happy living things ! no tongue
He blesseth them in his heart.
The spell begins to break.
The selfsame moment I could pray;
Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.
The silly buckets on the deck,
My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element.
And soon I heard a roaring wind :
The upper air burst into life!
And the coming wind did roar more loud,
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still