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Ship was cheer’d, the Harbour clear’d —

       Merrily did we drop

       Below the Kirk, below the Hill,

       Below the Lighthouse top.

      The Sun came up upon the left,

       Out of the Sea came he:

       And he shone bright, and on the right

       Went down into the Sea.

      Higher and higher every day,

       Till over the mast at noon —

       The wedding-guest here beat his breast,

       For he heard the loud bassoon.

      The Bride hath pac’d into the Hall,

       Red as a rose is she;

       Nodding their heads before her goes

       The merry Minstralsy.

      The wedding-guest he beat his breast,

       Yet he cannot chuse but hear:

       And thus spake on that ancyent Man,

       The bright-eyed Marinere.

      Listen, Stranger! Storm and Wind,

       A Wind and Tempest strong!

       For days and weeks it play’d us freaks —

       Like Chaff we drove along.

      Listen, Stranger! Mist and Snow,

       And it grew wond’rous cauld:

       And Ice mast-high came floating by

       As green as Emerauld.

      And thro’ the drifts the snowy clifts

       Did send a dismal sheen;

       Ne shapes of men ne beasts we ken —

       The Ice was all between.

      The Ice was here, the Ice was there,

       The Ice was all around:

       It crack’d and growl’d, and roar’d and howl’d —

       Like noises of a swound.

      At length did cross an Albatross,

       Thorough the Fog it came;

       And an it were a Christian Soul,

       We hail’d it in God’s name.

      The Marineres gave it biscuit-worms,

       And round and round it flew:

       The Ice did split with a Thunder-fit;

       The Helmsman steer’d us thro’.

      And a good south wind sprung up behind,

       The Albatross did follow;

       And every day for food or play

       Came to the Marinere’s hollo!

      In mist or cloud on mast or shroud

       It perch’d for vespers nine,

       Whiles all the night thro’ fog-smoke white

       Glimmer’d the white moonshine.

      “God save thee, ancyent Marinere!

       ”From the fiends that plague thee thus —

       “Why look’st thou so?” — with my cross bow

       I shot the Albatross.

      II.

      The Sun came up upon the right,

       Out of the Sea came he;

       And broad as a weft upon the left

       Went down into the Sea.

      And the good south wind still blew behind,

       But no sweet Bird did follow

       Ne any day for food or play

       Came to the Marinere’s hollo!

      And I had done an hellish thing

       And it would work ‘em woe:

       For all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird

       That made the Breeze to blow.

      Ne dim ne red, like God’s own head,

       The glorious Sun uprist:

       Then all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird

       That brought the fog and mist.

       ‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay

       That bring the fog and mist.

      The breezes blew, the white foam flew,

       The furrow follow’d free:

       We were the first that ever burst

       Into that silent Sea.

      Down dropt the breeze, the Sails dropt down,

       ’Twas sad as sad could be

       And we did speak only to break

       The silence of the Sea.

      All in a hot and copper sky

       The bloody sun at noon,

       Right up above the mast did stand,

       No bigger than the moon.

      Day after day, day after day,

       We stuck, ne breath ne motion,

       As idle as a painted Ship

       Upon a painted Ocean.

      Water, water, every where

       And all the boards did shrink;

       Water, water, every where,

       Ne any drop to drink.

      The very deeps did rot: O Christ!

       That ever this should be!

       Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

       Upon the slimy Sea.

      About, about, in reel and rout

       The Death-fires danc’d at night;

       The water, like a witch’s oils,

       Burnt green and blue and white.

      And some in dreams assured were

       Of the Spirit that plagued us so:

       Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us

       From the Land of Mist and Snow.

      And every tongue thro’ utter drouth

       Was wither’d at the root;

       We could not speak no more than if

       We had been choked with soot.

      Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks

       Had I from old and young;

       Instead of the Cross the Albatross

       About my neck was hung.

      III.

      I saw a something in the Sky

       No bigger than my fist;

       At first it seem’d a little speck

       And then it seem’d a mist:

       It mov’d and mov’d, and took at last

       A certain shape, I wist.

      A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!

       And still it ner’d and ner’d;

       And, an it dodg’d a water-sprite,

       It plung’d and tack’d and veer’d.

      With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d

       Ne could we laugh, ne wail:

       Then while thro’ drouth all dumb they stood

       I bit my arm and suck’d the blood

      

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