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It is the moss that wholly “Stunned by that loud and The ancient Mar
iner is saved in hides
550 the Pilot's boat. The rotted old oak-stump. Which sky and ocean smote,
Like one that hath been
heard them talk, My body lay afloat;
self I found
"Upon the whirl, where
sank the ship, Approacheth the “Strange, by my faith!' The boat spun round and ship with wonder. the Hermit said
round; ‘And they answered not our
And all was still, save that
"I moved my lips—the
560 I never saw aught like to
And fell down in a fit; them,
531 Unless perchance it were
The holy Hermit raised his ·
eyes, “Brown skeletons
of And prayed where he did
"I took the oars: the pilot's
Who now doth
Laughed loud and long,
and all the while 566 That eats the she-wolf's
His eyes went to and fro. young.'
'Ha! ha!' quoth he, 'full “Dear Lord! it hath a
plain I see, fiendish look'
The Devil knows how to (The pilot made reply)
“And now, all in my own
I stood on the firm land! “The boat came closer to
The Hermit stepped forth
from the boat,
The ancient Mar
iner earnestly enneath the ship,
treateth the HerAnd straight a sound was The Hermit crossed his and the penance of
mit to shrieve him; heard. 545 brow.
life falls on him.
575 The ship suddenly “Under the water it rum
'Say quick,' quoth he, 'I sinketh.
bid thee say
What manner of man art
"Forthwith this frame of
With a woeful agony,
And ever and anon throughout his future life an agony constraineth him to travel from land to land,
Which forced me to begin Old men, and babes, and
580 loving friends,
bis own example, That
this I tell agony returns;
610 love and reverence And till my ghastly tale is | To thee, thou Wedding to all things that told,
loveth. This heart within me burns. He prayeth well, who
Both man and bird and
586 I have strange power of speech;
"He prayeth best, who
All things both great and
For the dear God who
He made and loveth all."
The Mariner, whose eye from that door:
is bright, The wedding-guests are
Whose beard with age is
He went like one that hath
been stunned, prayer!
And is of sense forlorn:
A sadder and a wiser man
soul hath been
FROST AT MIDNIGHT
The frost performs its secret ministry,
Came loud-and hark, again! loud as be“O sweeter than the mar- fore. riage-feast,
601 The inmates of my cottage, all at rest, 'Tis sweeter far to me, Have left me to that solitude, which suits 5 To walk together to the Abstruser musings: save that at my side kirk
My cradled infant slumbers peacefully. With a goodly company!- 'Tis calm indeed! so calm, that it dis
turbs “To walk together to the And vexes meditation with its strange kirk,
605 | And extreme silentness. Sea, hill, and And all together pray,
wood, While each to his great This populous village! Sea, and hill, and Father bends,
With all the numberless goings on of life Fill up the interspersed vacancies Inaudible as dreams! the thin blue flame And momentary pauses of the thought! Lies on my low-burnt fire, and quivers not; | My babe so beautiful! it thrills my heart Only that film, which fluttered on the | With tender gladness, thus to look at grate,
50 Still futters there, the sole unquiet thing. And think that thou shalt learn far other Methinks, its motion in this hush of nature lore Gives it dim sympathies with me who live, And in far other scenes! For I was reared Making it a companionable form,
In the great city, pent 'mid cloisters dim, Whose puny flaps and freaks the idling And saw naught lovely but the sky and Spirit
stars. By its own moods interprets, everywhere But thou, my babe! shalt wander like a Echo or mirror seeking of itself,
55 And makes a toy of Thought.
By lakes and sandy shores, beneath the
But oh! how oft, crags How oft, at school, with most believing of ancient mountain, and beneath the mind,
25 clouds, Presageful, have I gazed upon the bars, Which image in their bulk both lakes and To watch that fluttering stranger! and as shores oft
And mountain crags: so shalt thou see and With unclosed lids, already had I dreamt hear Of my sweet birth-place, and the old The lovely shapes and sounds intelligible church-tower,
Of that eternal language, which thy God 61 Whose bells, the poor man's only music, Utters, who from eternity doth teach rang
30 Himself in all, and all things in himself. From morn to evening, all the hot Fair- Great universal Teacher! he shall mould day,
Thy spirit, and by giving make it ask. 65 So sweetly, that they stirred and haunted Therefore all seasons shall be sweet to
thee, With a wild pleasure, falling on mine ear Whether the summer clothe the general Most like articulate sounds of things to earth come!
With greenness, or the redbreast sit and So gazed I, till the soothing things I sing dreamt
Betwixt the tufts of snow on the bare Lulled me to sleep, and sleep prolonged my branch dreams!
Of mossy apple-tree, while the nigh And so I brooded all the following morn, thatch
70 Awed by the stern preceptor's face, mine Smokes in the sun-thaw; whether the eye
eavedrops fall Fixed with mock study on my swimming Heard only in the trances of the blast, book:
Or if the secret ministry of frost Save if the door half opened, and I shall hang them up in silent icicles, snatched
Quietly shining to the quiet moon. 75 A hasty glance, and still my heart leaped
up For still I hoped to see the stranger's face,
HYMN Townsman, or aunt, or sister more beloved,
BEFORE SUNRISE IN THE VALE My play-mate when we both were clothed
OF CHAMOUNI alike! Dear babe, that sleepest cradled by my Hast thou a charm to stay the morningside,
star Whose gentle breathings, heard in this In his steep course? So long he seems deep calm,
On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc! And you, ye five wild torrents fiercely The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
glad! Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Who called you forth from night and utter Form!
40 Risest from forth thy silent sea of pines, From dark and icy caverns called you How silently! Around thee and above
forth, Deep is the air and dark, substantial, Down those precipitous, black, jagged black,
rocks, An ebon mass: methinks thou piercest it Forever shattered and the same forever? As with a wedge! But when I look again, Who gave you your invulnerable life, It is thine own calm home, thy crystal Your strength, your speed, your fury, and shrine,
45 Thy habitation from eternity!
Unceasing thunder and eternal foam? o dread and silent Mount! I gazed upon And who commanded (and the silence thee,
came), Till thou, still present to the bodily sense, Here let the billows stiffen, and have rest? Didst vanish from my thought: entranced Ye ice-falls! ye that from the mounin prayer
tain's brow I worshipped the Invisible alone.
Adown enormous ravines slope amain— 50 Yet, like some sweet beguiling melody, Torrents, methinks, that heard a mighty So sweet, we know not we are listening voice, to it,
And stopped at once amid their maddest Thou, the meanwhile, wast blending with plunge! my thought,
Motionless torrents! silent cataracts! Yea, with my life and life's own secret Who made you glorious as the gates of joy:
Heaven Till the dilating Soul, enrapt, transfused, Beneath the keen full moon? Who bade Into the mighty vision passing-there,
55 As in her natural form, swelled vast to Clothe you with rainbows? Who, with Heaven!
living flowers Awake, my soul! not only passive praise Of loveliest blue, spread garlands at your Thou owest! not alone these swelling tears, feet?Mute thanks and secret ecstasy! Awake, God! let the torrents, like a shout of naVoice of sweet song! Awake, my heart, tions, awake!
27 Answer! and let the ice-plains echo, God! Green vales and icy cliffs, all join my God! sing, ye meadow-streams, with gladHymn.
60 Thou first and chief, sole sovran of the Ye pine-groves, with your soft and soulVale!
like sounds! O struggling with the darkness all the And they too have a voice, yon piles of night,
snow, And visited all night by troops of stars, And in their perilous fall shall thunder, Or when they climb the sky or when they God! sink:
Ye living flowers that skirt the eternal Companion of the morning-star at dawn, frost! Thyself earth's rosy star, and of the dawn Ye wild goats sporting round the eagle's Co-herald! wake, oh wake, and utter nest!
35 Ye eagles, play-mates of the mountainWho sank thy sunless pillars deep in storm! Earth?
Ye lightnings, the dread arrows of the Who filled thy countenance with rosy clouds! light?
Ye signs and wonders of the element! Who made thee parent of perpetual Utter forth God, and fill the hills with streams?
Thou too, hoar Mount! with thy sky- (With swimming phantom light o'erpointing peaks,
spread Oft from whose feet the avalanche, un- But rimmed and circled by a silver heard,
thread) Shoots downward, glittering through the I see the old moon in her lap, foretelling pure serene
The coming-on of rain and squally Into the depth of clouds that veil thy
And oh! that even now the gust were Thou too again, stupendous Mountain! swelling,
And the slant night-shower driving That as I raise my head, awhile bowed
loud and fast! low
75 Those sounds which oft have raised me, In adoration, upward from thy base
whilst they awed, Slow-travelling with dim eyes diffused And sent my soul abroad, with tears,
Might now perhaps their wonted impulse Solemnly seemest, like a vapory cloud,
give, To rise before me Rise, oh ever rise, Might startle this dull pain, and make it Rise like a cloud of incense, from the earth!
live! Thou kingly spirit throned among the hills,
81 Thou dread ambassador from earth to
A grief without a pang, void, dark, and heaven,
drear, Great hierarch! tell thou the silent sky,
A stifled, drowsy, unimpassioned grief, And tell the stars, and tell yon rising
Which finds no natural outlet, no relief,
In word, or sigh, or tearsun, Earth, with her thousand voices, praises O Lady! in this wan and heartless mood, 25 God.
To other thoughts by yonder throstle 85
wooed, All this long eve, so balmy and serene,
Have I been gazing on the western sky, DEJECTION: AN ODE
And its peculiar tint of yellow green:
And still I gaze—and with how blank an
30 And I fear, I fear, my Master dear!
And those thin clouds above, in flakes and We shall have a deadly storm.
bars, Ballad of Sir Patrick Spens.
That give away their motion to the stars;
Those stars, that glide behind them or beI
tween, Well! If the Bard was weather-wise, who
Now sparkling, now bedimmed, but almade
Yon crescent moon, as fixed as if it grew 35 The grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spens,
In its own cloudless, starless lake of blue; This night, so tranquil now, will not go
I see them all so excellently fair, hence
I see, not feel, how beautiful they are! Unroused by winds, that ply a busier
40 Or the dull sobbing draft, that moans and To lift the smothering weight from off my rakes
Though I should gaze for ever