[182:1] First published in the first edition of the Lyrical Ballads, 1798, and reprinted in the editions of 1800, 1803, and 1805. The 'dramatic fragment' was excluded from the acting version of Remorse, but was printed in an Appendix, p. 75, to the Second Edition of the Play, 1813. It is included in the body of the work in Sibylline Leaves, 1817, and again in 1852, and in the Appendix to Remorse in the editions of 1828, 1829, and 1834. It is omitted from 1844. 'The "Foster-Mother's Tale," (From Mr. C.'s own handwriting)' was published in Cottle's Early Recollections, i. 235.
'The following scene as unfit for the stage was taken from the Tragedy in 1797, and published in the Lyrical Ballads. But this work having been long out of print, and it having been determined, that this with my other poems in that collection (the Nightingale, Love, and the Ancient Mariner) should be omitted in any future edition, I have been advised to reprint it as a Note to the Second Scene of Act the Fourth, p. 55.' App. to Remorse, Ed. 2, 1813. [This note is reprinted in 1828 and 1829, but in 1834 only the first sentence is prefixed to the scene.]
LINENOTES:
Title] Foster-Mother's Tale. (Scene—Spain) Cottle, 1837: The, &c. A Narration in Dramatic Blank Verse L. B. 1800. In Remorse, App., 1813 and in 1828, 1829, 1834, the dramatis personae are respectively Teresa and Selma. The fragment opens thus:—Enter Teresa and Selma.
As mine and Alvar's common foster-mother.
In Cottle's version, the scene begins at line 4.
man] Moor Osorio, MS. I.
O my dear Mother . . . She gazes idly! om. 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
me] us Cottle, 1837.
the] yon Osorio, MS. I.
In Lyrical Ballads, 1800, the scene begins with the words: 'But that entrance'. But that entrance, Selma? 1813.
Leoni] Sesina 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
Velez'] Valdez' 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834: Valez' S. L. 1817.
To gather seeds 1813, S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829, 1834.
gather'd] oft culled S. L. 1817.
So he became a rare and learned youth 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
But O poor youth
Velez] Valdez 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834: Valez S. L. 1817.
made a confession Osorio. A fever seiz'd the youth and he made confession Cottle, 1837.
hole] cell L. B. 1800: den 1813. [And fetter'd in that den. MS. S. T. C.].
in the cellar] near this dungeon 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
wild] wide 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
He always] Leoni L. B. 1800.
om. L. B. 1800.
Leoni's] Sesina's 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. younger] youngest S. L. 1817.
Leoni] Sesina 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
THE DUNGEON[185:1]
[From Osorio, Act V; and Remorse, Act V, Scene i. The title and text are here printed from Lyrical Ballads, 1798.]
This is the process of our love and wisdom,
To each poor brother who offends against us—
Most innocent, perhaps—and what if guilty?
Is this the only cure? Merciful God! 5
Each pore and natural outlet shrivell'd up
By Ignorance and parching Poverty,
His energies roll back upon his heart,
And stagnate and corrupt; till chang'd to poison,
They break out on him, like a loathsome plague-spot; 10
Then we call in our pamper'd mountebanks—
And this is their best cure! uncomforted
And friendless solitude, groaning and tears,
And savage faces, at the clanking hour,
Seen through the steams and vapour of his dungeon, 15
By the lamp's dismal twilight! So he lies
Circled with evil, till his very soul
Unmoulds its essence, hopelessly deform'd
By sights of ever more deformity!
Healest thy wandering and distemper'd child:
Thou pourest on him thy soft influences,
Thy sunny hues, fair forms, and breathing sweets,
Thy melodies of woods, and winds, and waters,
Till he relent, and can no more endure 25
To be a jarring and a dissonant thing,
Amid this general dance and minstrelsy;
But, bursting into tears, wins back his way,
His angry spirit heal'd and harmoniz'd
By the benignant touch of Love and Beauty. 30
1797.
FOOTNOTES:
[185:1] First published in the Lyrical Ballads, 1798, and reprinted in the Lyrical Ballads, 1800. First collected (as a separate poem) in Poems, 1893, p. 85.
LINENOTES:
our] my Osorio, Act V, i. 107. 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834. man] men Osorio.
steams and vapour] steaming vapours Osorio, V, i. 121: steam and vapours 1813, 1828, 1829, 1834.
THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER[186:1]
IN SEVEN PARTS
Facile credo, plures esse Naturas invisibiles quam visibiles in rerum universitate. Sed horum omnium familiam quis nobis enarrabit? et gradus et cognationes et discrimina et singulorum munera? Quid agunt? quae loca habitant? Harum rerum notitiam semper ambivit ingenium humanum, nunquam attigit. Juvat, interea, non diffiteor, quandoque in animo, tanquam in tabulâ, majoris et melioris mundi imaginem contemplari: ne mens assuefacta hodiernae vitae minutiis se contrahat nimis, et tota subsidat in pusillas cogitationes. Sed veritati interea invigilandum est, modusque servandus, ut certa ab incertis, diem a nocte, distinguamus.—T. Burnet, Archaeol. Phil. p. 68.[186:2]
ARGUMENT
How a Ship having passed the Line was driven by storms to the cold Country towards the South Pole; and how from thence she made her course to the tropical Latitude of the Great Pacific Ocean; and of the strange things that befell; and in what manner the Ancyent Marinere came back to his own Country. [L. B. 1798.][186:3]
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'
'There was a ship,' quoth he. 10
'Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child: 15
The Mariner hath his will.
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner. 20
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the lighthouse top.
Out of the sea came he!
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.
Till over the mast at noon—' 30
The Wedding-Guest here beat his breast,
For he heard the loud bassoon.
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes 35
The merry minstrelsy.
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner. 40
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o'ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled. 50
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.
Did send a dismal sheen:
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken—
The ice was all between.
The ice was all around: 60
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul, 65
We hailed it in God's name.
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through! 70
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariner's hollo!
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.'
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!— 80
Why look'st thou so?'—With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.
Out of the sea came he,
Still hid in mist, and on the left 85
Went down into the sea.
And it would work 'em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow.
Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, 95
That made the breeze to blow!
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the bird
That brought the fog and mist. 100
'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,
That bring the fog and mist.
The furrow followed free;
We were the first that ever burst 105
Into that silent sea.
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea! 110
The bloody Sun at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the Moon.
And all the boards did shrink; 120
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 125
Upon the slimy sea.
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white. 130
Of the Spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.
Had I from old and young! 140
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time! 145
How glazed each weary eye,
When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.
And then it seemed a mist; 150
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite, 155
It plunged and tacked and veered.
We could nor laugh nor wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 160
And cried, A sail! a sail!
Agape they heard me call:
And all at once their breath drew in, 165
As they were drinking all.
Hither to work us weal;
Without a breeze, without a tide,
She steadies with upright keel! 170
The day was well nigh done!
Almost upon the western wave
Bested the broad bright Sun;
When that strange shape drove suddenly 175
Betwixt us and the Sun.
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon-grate he peered
With broad and burning face. 180
How fast she nears and nears!
Are those her sails that glance in the Sun,
Like restless gossameres?
Did peer, as through a grate?
And is that Woman all her crew?
Is that a Death? and are there two?
Is Death that woman's mate?
Her locks were yellow as gold:
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The Night-mare Life-in-Death was she,
Who thicks man's blood with cold.
And the twain were casting dice;
'The game is done! I've won! I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.
At one stride comes the dark; 200
With far-heard whisper, o'er the sea,
Off shot the spectre-bark.
Fear at my heart, as at a cup,
My life-blood seemed to sip! 205
The stars were dim, and thick the night,
The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white;
From the sails the dew did drip—
[196]Till clomb above the eastern bar
The hornéd Moon, with one bright star 210
Within the nether tip.
Too quick for groan or sigh,
Each turned his face with a ghastly pang,
And cursed me with his eye. 215
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.
They fled to bliss or woe!
And every soul, it passed me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow!
I fear thy skinny hand! 225
And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribbed sea-sand.[196:1]
And thy skinny hand, so brown.'—
Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 230
This body dropt not down.
Alone on a wide wide sea!
And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony. 235
And they all dead did lie:
[197]And a thousand thousand slimy things
Lived on; and so did I.
And drew my eyes away;
I looked upon the rotting deck,
And there the dead men lay.
But or ever a prayer had gusht, 245
A wicked whisper came, and made
My heart as dry as dust.
And the balls like pulses beat;
For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 250
Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.
Nor rot nor reek did they:
The look with which they looked on me 255
Had never passed away.
A spirit from on high;
But oh! more horrible than that
Is the curse in a dead man's eye! 260
Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse,
And yet I could not die.