Samuel Taylor Coleridge

“ 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.
But not by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian saint."I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest! ”

“ Did'st thou ne'er love to hear of Fame and Glory?
V.
⁠And is not War a youthful King,
⁠A stately Hero clad in mail?
⁠Beneath his footsteps laurels spring;
⁠Him Earth's majestic monarch's hail
Their Friend, their Playmate! and his bold bright eye
Compels the maiden's love-confessing sigh.
VI.
⁠"Tell this in some more courtly scene,
⁠To maids and youths in robes of state!
⁠I am a woman poor and mean,
⁠And therefore is my Soul elate.
War is a ruffian, all with guilt defil'd,
That from the aged Father tears his Child!" ”

“ The old raven flew round and round, and caw'd to the blast.
He heard the last shriek of the perishing souls—
See! see! o'er the topmast the mad water rolls!
⁠Right glad was the raven, and off he went fleet,
And Death riding home on a cloud he did meet,
And he thank'd him again and again for this treat:
⁠They had taken his all, and revenge was sweet!
We must not think so; but forget and forgive,
And what Heaven gives life to, we'll still let it live! ”

“ Stretch'd on a moulder'd Abbey's broadest wall,
⁠Where ruining ivies propt the ruins steep—
Her folded arms wrapping her tatter'd pall,
⁠Had Melancholy mus'd herself to sleep.
⁠The fern was press'd beneath her hair,
⁠The dark green Adder's Tongue [2] was there;
And still as past the flagging sea-gale weak,
The long lank leaf bow'd fluttering o'er her cheek.
That pallid cheek was flush'd: her eager look
⁠Beam'd eloquent in slumber! Inly wrought,
⁠Imperfect sounds her moving lips forsook,
⁠And her bent forehead work'd with troubled thought. ”

“ Fair constellated [1] Foam, still darting off
Into the darkness; now a tranquil sea,
Outspread and bright, yet swelling to the Moon.
And when—O Friend! my comforter and guide!
Strong in thy self, and powerful to give strength!—
Thy long sustained Song finally closed,
And thy deep voice had ceased—yet thou thyself
Wert still before my eyes, and round us both
That happy vision of beloved Faces—
Scarce conscious, and yet conscious of its close
I sate, my being blended in one thought
(Thought was it? or Aspiration? or Resolve?) ”

“ That should you close your eyes, you might almost
Forget it was not day! On moonlight bushes,
Whose dewy leafits are but half disclosed,
You may perchance behold them on the twigs,
Their bright, bright eyes, their eyes both bright and full,
Glistening, while many a glow-worm in the shade
Lights up her love-torch.
A most gentle Maid,
Who dwelleth in her hospitable home
Hard by the castle, and at latest eve
(Even like a Lady vow'd and dedicate
To something more than Nature in the grove)
Glides thro' the pathways; she knows all their notes,
That gentle Maid! ”

“ ADDRESSED
TO A YOUNG MAN OF FORTUNE
Who abandon'd himself to an indolent and causeless Melancholy.
Hence that fantastic wantonness of woe,
O Youth to partial Fortune vainly dear!
To plunder'd Want's half-shelter'd hovel go,
Go, and some hunger-bitten Infant hear
Moan haply in a dying Mother's ear:
Or when the cold and dismal fog-damps brood
O'er the rank church-yard with sear elm-leaves strew'd,
Pace round some widow's grave, whose dearer part
Was slaughter'd, where o'er his uncoffin'd limbs
The flocking flesh-birds scream'd! ”

“ Thy church-tower, and, methinks, the four huge elms
Clustering, which mark the mansion of my friend;
And close behind them, hidden from my view,
Is my own lowly cottage, where my babe
And my babe's mother dwell in peace! With light
And quicken'd footsteps thitherward I tend,
Remembering thee, O green and silent dell!
And grateful, that by nature's quietness
And solitary musings, all my heart
Is soften'd, and made worthy to indulge
Love, and the thoughts that yearn for human kind. ”

“ As thro' the dark vaults of some moulder'd Tower
(Which, fearful to approach, the evening Hind
Circles at distance in his homeward way)
The winds breathe hollow, deem'd the plaining groan
Of prison'd spirits; with such fearful voice
Night murmur'd, and the sound thro' Chaos went.
Leapt at her call her hideous-fronted brood!
A dark behest they heard, and rush'd on earth,
Since that sad hour, in Camps and Courts adored,
Rebels from God, and Monarchs o'er Mankind! ”

“ 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 Wedding-Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner continueth his tale.The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.
The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner. ”

“ Domestic treason, crush'd beneath her fatal stamp,
Writh'd like a wounded dragon in his gore;
Then I reproach'd my fears that would not flee;
"And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore
In the low huts of them that toil and groan!
And, conquering by her happiness alone,
"Shall France compel the nations to be free.
Till Love and Joy look round, and call the Earth their own." ”

“ Thou wilt not be received with lacerations of cheeks, nor with funereal ululation—but with circling dances, and the joy of songs. Thou art terrible indeed, yet thou dwelleth with Liberty, stern Genius! Borne on thy dark pinions over the swelling of Ocean, they return to their native country. There, by the side of Fountains beneath Citron-groves, the lovers tell to their beloved what horrors, being Men, they had endured from Men. ”

“ Still Edmund's image rose to blast her view,
Still Edmund's voice accused her in each gale.
With keen regret, and conscious guilt's alarms,
Amid the pomp of affluence she pined;
Nor all that lured her faith from Edmund's arms
Could lull the wakeful horror of her mind.
Go, Traveller! tell the tale with sorrow fraught:
Some tearful maid perchance, or blooming youth,
May hold it in remembrance; and be taught
That Riches cannot pay for Love or Truth. ”

“ Whose pines, scarce travell'd by the breeze above,
Had made one murmur with the distant surge!
Yes, while I stood and gaz'd, my temples bare,
And shot my being through earth, sea and air,
Possessing all things with intensest love,
O Liberty I my spirit felt thee there. ”

“ Yet dare I not tell who:
For if the nymphs should know my swain,
I fear they'd love him too.
Yet while my joy's unknown,
Its rosy buds are but half-blown:
What no one with me shares, seems scarce my own. ”

“ And singing, and loving—all come back together.
But the Lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings; and for ever sings he—
"I love my Love, and my Love loves me!" ”

“ Thou best the thought canst raise, the heart attune,
Light as the busy clouds, calm as the gliding Moon.
⁠The feeling heart, the searching soul,
⁠To thee I dedicate the whole!
⁠And while within myself I trace
⁠The greatness of some future race,
⁠Aloof with hermit-eye I scan
⁠The present works of present man—
A wild and dream-like trade of blood and guile,
Too foolish for a tear, too wicked for a smile! ”

“ The nations curse thee, They [errata 1] with eager wond'ring
Shall hear Destruction! like a vulture, scream!
Strange-eyed Destruction! who with many a dream
Of central fires thro' nether seas upthund'ring
Soothes her fierce solitude; yet as she lies
By livid fount, or red volcanic stream,
If ever to her lidless dragon-eyes,
O Albion! thy predestin'd ruins rise,
The fiend-hag on her perilous couch doth leap,
Muttering distemper'd triumph in her charmed sleep. ”

“ Rhythm in all Thought, and Joyance every where—
Methinks, it should have been impossible
Not to love all things in a world so fill'd,
Where the breeze warbles and the mute still Air
Is Music slumbering on its instrument! ”

“ Thy clouds, thy quiet dales, thy rocks and seas,
Have drunk in all my intellectual life,
All sweet sensations, all ennobling thoughts,
All adoration of the God in Nature,
All lovely and all honorable things,
Whatever makes this mortal spirit feel
The joy and greatness of its future being?
There lives nor form nor feeling in my soul
Unborrow'd from my country. ”

“ Ah! dearest youth! it were a lot divine
To cheat our noons in moralizing mood,
While west-winds fann'd our temples toil-bedew'd:
Then downwards slope, oft pausing, from the mount,
To some lone mansion, in some woody dale,
Where smiling with blue eye, domestic bliss
Gives this the Husband's, that the Brother's kiss! ”

“ Gentiana Major grows in immense numbers, with its "flowers
of loveliest blue."
Hast thou a charm to stay the Morning-Star
In his steep course? So long he seems to pause
On thy bald awful head, O sovran Blanc!
The Arve and Arveiron at thy base
Rave ceaselessly; but thou, most awful Form!
Risest from forth thy silent Sea of Pines,
How silently! Around thee and above
Deep is the air and dark, substantial, black. ”

“ That most holy name,
⁠Which Heaven and Nature bless,
⁠I may not vilely prostitute to those
⁠Whose Infants owe them less
⁠Than the poor Caterpillar owes
⁠Its gaudy Parent Fly.
You were a Mother! at your bosom fed
⁠The Babes that lov'd you. You, with laughing eye,
Each twilight-thought, each nascent feeling read,
⁠Which you yourself created. Oh! delight! ”

“ And dreaming hears thee still, O singing-lark,
That singest like an angel in the clouds!
My God! it is a melancholy thing
For such a man, who would full fain preserve
His soul in calmness, yet perforce must feel
For all his human brethren—O my God! ”

“ And were a little feathery bird,
To you I'd fly, my dear!
But thoughts like these are idle things,
And I stay here.
But in my sleep to you I fly:
I'm always with you in my sleep;
The world is all one's own. ”

“ While his fair eyes, that swam with undropt tears
Did glitter in the yellow moon-beam! Well!—
It is a father's tale: But if that Heaven
Should give me life, his childhood shall grow up
Familiar with these songs, that with the night
He may associate joy! Once more farewell,
Sweet Nightingale! Once more, my friends! farewell. ”

“ How can we do without her?
Besides, what vex'd us worse, we knew,
They have no need of such as you
In the place where you were going:
This World has angels all too few,
And Heaven is overflowing! ”

“ Should you a Rat to madness teize,
⁠Why e'en a Rat may plague you:
There's no Philosopher but sees
That Rage and Fear are one disease—
Though that may burn and this may freeze,
⁠They're both alike the Ague. ”

“ In intricacies of laborious song.
These feel not Music's genuine power, nor deign
To melt at Nature's passion-warbled plaint;
But when the long-breath'd singer's uptrill'd strain
Bursts in a squall—they gape for wonderment. ”

“ Then I was thrill'd and melted, and most warm
Impress'd a Father's kiss: and all beguil'd
⁠Of dark remembrance and presageful fear,
⁠I seem'd to see an angel-form appear—
'Twas even thine, beloved woman mild! ”

“ Heave and flutter to his sighs,
While the flatterer, on his wing,
Wooed and whisper'd thee to rise.
Gaily from thy mother-stalk
Wert thou danced and wafted high—
Soon on this unshelter'd walk
Flung to fade, to rot and die. ”

“ With many a bright obstrusive form of art,
Detain'd your eye from nature: stately vests,
That veiling strove to deck your charms divine,
Rich viands, and the pleasurable wine,
Were your's unearn'd by toil; nor could you see
The unenjoying toiler's misery. ”

“ The heads of tall flowers that behind her grow,
Lychnis, and willow-herb, and fox-glove bells;
And suddenly, as one that toys with time,
Scatters them on the pool! Then all the charm
Is broken—all that phantom-world so fair
Vanishes, and a thousand circlets spread,
And each mis-shape the other. Stay awhile,
Poor youth, who scarcely dar'st lift up thine eyes! ”

“ Tearful raptures, boyish mirth;
Silent adorations, making
A blessed shadow of this Earth!
O ye hopes, that stir within me,
Health comes with you from above!
God is with me, God is in me!
I cannot die, if Life be Love. ”

“ O Greta, dear domestic stream!
VI.
Has not, since then, Love's prompture deep,
Has not Love's whisper evermore,
Been ceaseless, as thy gentle roar?
Sole voice, when other voices sleep,
Dear under-song in Clamor's hour. ”

“ Or when it bends beneath the up-springing lark,
Or mountain-finch alighting. And the rose
(In vain the darling of successful love)
Stands, like some boasted beauty of past years,
The thorns remaining, and the flowers all gone. ”

“ Of deep enjoyment, following Love's brief feuds! [errata 3]
Of deep enjoyment, following love's brief feuds!
And hark, the noise of a near waterfall!
I come [errata 4] out into light—I find myself
Beneath a weeping birch (most beautiful
Of forest-trees, the Lady of the woods) ,
Hard by the brink of a tall weedy rock
That overbrows the cataract. How bursts
The landscape on my sight! ”