Chapter 12

[Sidenote: The Hermit of the Wood,]

This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. 515 How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree.

He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve-- He hath a cushion plump: 520 It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump.

The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, 'Why, this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, 525 That signal made but now?'

[Sidenote: Approacheth the ship with wonder.]

'Strange, by my faith!' the Hermit said-- 'And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! 530 I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were

Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, 535 And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf's young.'

'Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look-- (The Pilot made reply) I am a-feared'--'Push on, push on!' 540 Said the Hermit cheerily.

The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard. 545

[Sidenote: The ship suddenly sinketh.]

Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: It reached the ship, it split the bay; The ship went down like lead.

[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner is saved in the Pilot's boat.]

Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, 550 Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot's boat. 555

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 560 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, 565 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, 570 I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand.

[Sidenote: The ancient Mariner earnestly entreateth the Hermit to shrieve him; and the penance of life falls on him.]

'O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!' The Hermit crossed his brow. 575 'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I bid thee say-- What manner of man art thou?'

Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; 580 And then it left me free.

[Sidenote: And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land;]

Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns: And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. 585

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. 590

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, 595 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 seeméd there to be. 600

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, 605 And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends And youths and maidens gay!

[Sidenote: And to teach, by his own example, love and reverence to all things that God made and loveth.]

Farewell, farewell! but this I tell 610 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; 615 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 620 Turned from the bridegroom's door.

He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn. 625

1797-1798.

FOOTNOTES:

[186:1] The _Ancient Mariner_ was first published in the _Lyrical Ballads_, 1798. It was reprinted in the succeeding editions of 1800, 1802, and 1805. It was first published under the Author's name in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, and included in 1828, 1829, and 1834. For the full text of the poem as published in 1798, vide Appendices. The marginal glosses were added in 1815-1816, when a collected edition of Coleridge's poems was being prepared for the press, and were first published in _Sibylline Leaves_, 1817, but it is possible that they were the work of a much earlier period. The text of the _Ancient Mariner_ as reprinted in _Lyrical Ballads_, 1802, 1805 follows that of 1800.

[186:2] The text of the original passage is as follows: 'Facilè credo, plures esse naturas invisibiles quam visibiles, in rerum universitate: pluresque Angelorum ordines in cælo, quam sunt pisces in mari: Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? Et gradus, et cognationes, et discrimina, et singulorum munera? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit . . . Juvat utique non etc.: _Archaeologiae Philosophicae sive Doctrina Antiqua De Rerum Originibus._ Libri Duo: Londini, MDCXCII, p. 68.'

[186:3] How a Ship, having first sailed to the Equator, was driven by Storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; how the Ancient Mariner cruelly and in contempt of the laws of hospitality killed a Sea-bird and how he was followed by many and strange Judgements: and in what manner he came back to his own Country, [_L. B._ 1800.]

[195:1] _Om._ in _Sibylline Leaves, 1817_.

[196:1] For the last two lines of this stanza, I am indebted to 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. [Note by S. T. C., first printed in _Sibylline Leaves_.]

LINENOTES:

Title] The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere. In Seven Parts L. B. 1798: The Ancient Mariner. A Poet's Reverie L. B. 1800, 1802, 1805.

[Note.--The 'Argument' was omitted in L. B. 1802, 1805, Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and in 1828, 1829, and 1834.]