Lyrical Ballads

arm,
He saves for me my precious soul:
Then happy lie, for blest am I;
Without me my sweet Babe would die.

Then do not fear, my Boy! for thee
Bold as a lion I will be;
And I will always be thy guide,
Through hollow snows and rivers wide.
I’ll build an Indian bower; I know
The leaves that make the softest bed:
And, if from me thou wilt not go,
But still be true till I am dead,
My pretty thing! then thou shalt sing
As merry as the birds in spring.

Thy Father cares not for my breast,
’Tis thine, sweet Baby, there to rest:
’Tis all thine own! and, if its hue
Be changed, that was so fair to view,
’Tis fair enough for thee, my dove!
My beauty, little Child, is flown;
But thou wilt live with me in love,
And what if my poor cheek be brown?
’Tis well for me, thou canst not see
How pale and wan it else would be.

Dread not their taunts, my little life!
I am thy Father’s wedded Wife;
And underneath the spreading tree
We two will live in honesty.
If his sweet Boy he could forsake,
With me he never would have stayed:
From him no harm my Babe can take,
But he, poor Man! is wretched made,
And every day we two will pray
For him that’s gone and far away.

I’ll teach my Boy the sweetest things;
I’ll teach him how the owlet sings.
My little Babe! thy lips are still,
And thou hast almost sucked thy fill.
—Where art thou gone, my own dear Child?
What wicked looks are those I see?
Alas! alas! that look so wild,
It never, never came from me:
If thou art mad, my pretty lad,
Then I must be for ever sad.

Oh! smile on me, my little lamb!
For I thy own dear Mother am.
My love for thee has well been tried:
I’ve sought thy Father far and wide.
I know the poisons of the shade,
I know the earth-nuts fit for food;
Then, pretty dear, be not afraid;
We’ll find thy Father in the wood.
Now laugh and be gay, to the woods away!
And there, my babe, we’ll live for aye.”

The Ancient Mariner

A Poet’s Reverie

I

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three:
“By thy long gray beard and thy glittering eye
Now wherefore stoppest me?

The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The Guests are met, the Feast is set⁠—
May’st hear the merry din.”

But still he holds the wedding-guest⁠—
“There was a Ship,” quoth he⁠—
“Nay, if thou’st got a laughsome tale,
Mariner! come with me.”

He holds him with his skinny hand,
Quoth he, “There was a Ship⁠—”
“Now get thee hence, thou gray-beard Loon!
Or my Staff shall make thee skip.”

He holds him with his glittering eye⁠—
The wedding-guest stood still
And listens like a three years’ child;
The Mariner hath his will.

The wedding-guest sate on a stone,
He cannot choose but hear:
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

“The Ship was cheered, the Harbour cleared⁠—
Merrily did we drop
Below the Kirk, below the Hill,
Below the Light-house top.

The Sun came up upon the left,
Out of the Sea came he:
And he shone bright, and on the right
Went down into the sea.

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 Bride hath paced into the Hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her go
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:

“But now the North wind came more fierce,
There came a Tempest strong!
And Southward still for days and weeks
Like Chaff we drove along.

And now there came both Mist and Snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And Ice mast-high came floating by
As green as Emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen;
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken⁠—
The Ice was all between.

The Ice was here, the Ice was there,
The Ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
A wild and ceaseless sound.

At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the Fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian Soul,
We hailed it in God’s name.

The Mariners gave it biscuit-worms,
And round and round it flew:
The Ice did split with a Thunder-fit;
The Helmsman steered us through.

And a good South wind sprung up behind,
The Albatross did follow;
And every day for food or play
Came to the Mariner’s hollo!

In mist or cloud on mast or shroud
It perched for vespers nine,
Whiles all the night through fog-smoke white
Glimmered the white moon-shine.”

“God save thee, antient Mariner!
From the fiends that plague thee thus!⁠—
Why look’st thou so?”⁠—“With my cross bow
I shot the Albatross.”

II

“The Sun now rose upon the right,
Out of the Sea came he;
Still hid in mist; and on the left
Went down into the Sea.

And the good South wind still blew behind,
But no sweet Bird did follow,
Nor any day for food or play
Came to the Mariner’s hollo!

And I had done an hellish thing,
And it would work ’em woe:
For all averred, I had killed the Bird
That made the Breeze to blow.

Nor dim nor red, like an Angel’s head,
The glorious Sun uprist:
Then all averred, I had killed the Bird
That brought the fog and mist.
’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay
That bring the fog and mist.

The breezes blew, the white foam flew,
The furrow followed free:
We were the first that ever burst
Into that silent Sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the Sails dropt down,
’Twas sad as sad could be,
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the Sea.

All in a hot and copper sky
The bloody sun at noon,
Right up above the mast did stand,
No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion,
As idle as a painted Ship
Upon a painted Ocean.

Water, water, every where,
And all the boards did shrink;
Water, water, every where,
Nor any drop to drink.

The very deeps did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea,