viernes, 20 de febrero de 2015

Poetry: Samuel Taylor Coleridge - The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner (in seven parts) - Part 4 and 5 - Links


     "I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
     I fear thy skinny hand!
     And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
     As is the ribbed sea-sand.

     "I fear thee and thy glittering eye,
     And thy skinny hand, so brown."—
     Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest!
     This body dropt not down.

     Alone, alone, all, all alone,
     Alone on a wide wide sea!
     And never a saint took pity on
     My soul in agony.

     The many men, so beautiful!
     And they all dead did lie:
     And a thousand thousand slimy things
     Lived on; and so did I.

     I looked upon the rotting sea,
     And drew my eyes away;
     I looked upon the rotting deck,
     And there the dead men lay.

     I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray:
     But or ever a prayer had gusht,
     A wicked whisper came, and made
     my heart as dry as dust.

     I closed my lids, and kept them close,
     And the balls like pulses beat;
     For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky
     Lay like a load on my weary eye,
     And the dead were at my feet.

     The cold sweat melted from their limbs,
     Nor rot nor reek did they:
     The look with which they looked on me
     Had never passed away.

     An orphan's curse would drag to Hell
     A spirit from on high;
     But oh! more horrible than that
     Is a curse in a dead man's eye!
     Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
     And yet I could not die.

     The moving Moon went up the sky,
     And no where did abide:
     Softly she was going up,
     And a star or two beside.

     Her beams bemocked the sultry main,
     Like April hoar-frost spread;
     But where the ship's huge shadow lay,
     The charmed water burnt alway
     A still and awful red.

     Beyond the shadow of the ship,
     I watched the water-snakes:
     They moved in tracks of shining white,
     And when they reared, the elfish light
     Fell off in hoary flakes.

     Within the shadow of the ship
     I watched their rich attire:
     Blue, glossy green, and velvet black,
     They coiled and swam; and every track
     Was a flash of golden fire.

     O happy living things! no tongue
     Their beauty might declare:
     A spring of love gushed from my heart,
     And I blessed them unaware:
     Sure my kind saint took pity on me,
     And I blessed them unaware.

     The self same moment I could pray;
     And from my neck so free
     The Albatross fell off, and sank
     Like lead into the sea.


     Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing,
     Beloved from pole to pole!
     To Mary Queen the praise be given!
     She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven,
     That slid into my soul.

     The silly buckets on the deck,
     That had so long remained,
     I dreamt that they were filled with dew;
     And when I awoke, it rained.

     My lips were wet, my throat was cold,
     My garments all were dank;
     Sure I had drunken in my dreams,
     And still my body drank.

     I moved, and could not feel my limbs:
     I was so light—almost
     I thought that I had died in sleep,
     And was a blessed ghost.

     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 sere.

     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.

     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.

     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.

     The loud wind never reached the ship,
     Yet now the ship moved on!
     Beneath the lightning and the Moon
     The dead men gave a groan.

     They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
     Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
     It had been strange, even in a dream,
     To have seen those dead men rise.

     The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
     Yet never a breeze up blew;
     The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
     Where they were wont to do:
     They raised their limbs like lifeless tools—
     We were a ghastly crew.

     The body of my brother's son,
     Stood by me, knee to knee:
     The body and I pulled at one rope,
     But he said nought to me.

     "I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"
     Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
     'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
     Which to their corses came again,
     But a troop of spirits blest:

     For when it dawned—they dropped their arms,
     And clustered round the mast;
     Sweet sounds rose slowly through their mouths,
     And from their bodies passed.

     Around, around, flew each sweet sound,
     Then darted to the Sun;
     Slowly the sounds came back again,
     Now mixed, now one by one.

     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!

     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.

     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.

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

     Under the keel nine fathom deep,
     From the land of mist and snow,
     The spirit slid: and it was he
     That made the ship to go.
     The sails at noon left off their tune,
     And the ship stood still also.

     The Sun, right up above the mast,
     Had fixed her to the ocean:
     But in a minute she 'gan stir,
     With a short uneasy motion—
     Backwards and forwards half her length
     With a short uneasy motion.

     Then like a pawing horse let go,
     She made a sudden bound:
     It flung the blood into my head,
     And I fell down in a swound.

     How long in that same fit I lay,
     I have not to declare;
     But ere my living life returned,
     I heard and in my soul discerned
     Two VOICES in the air.

     "Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man?
     By him who died on cross,
     With his cruel bow he laid full low,
     The harmless Albatross.

     "The spirit who bideth by himself
     In the land of mist and snow,
     He loved the bird that loved the man
     Who shot him with his bow."

     The other was a softer voice,
     As soft as honey-dew:
     Quoth he, "The man hath penance done,
     And penance more will do."

Poetry: Samuel Taylor Coleridge - The Rime Of The Ancient Mariner (in seven parts) - Part 4 and 5 - Links

You have an alphabetical guide in the foot of the page in the blog: solitary dog sculptor
In the blog: Solitary Dog Sculptor I, the alphabetical guide is on the right side of the page

Usted tiene una guía alfabética al pie de la página en el blog: solitary dog sculptor
En el blog: Solitary Dog Sculptor I, la guia alfabética está en el costado derecho de la página

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