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Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

IN SEVEN PARTS

[first version]


Only the major differences from the finished version are included here, that is, stanzas that were omitted or greatly changed from the later editions. There was also much more use of archaic words in the first edition and less assured use of rhythm.

The complete first (1798) edition.


from PART III

And those her naked ribs, which fleck'd
The sun that did behind them peer?
And are these two all, all the crew?
That woman and her fleshless Pheere?
His bones were black with many a crack,
All black and bare, I ween;
Jet-black and bare, save where with rust
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
They're patch'd with purple and green.
Her lips are red, her looks are free,
Her locks are yellow as gold:
Her skin is as white as leprosy,
And she is far liker Death than he;
Her flesh makes the still air cold.
The naked Hulk alongside came
And the Twain were playing dice;
`The Game is done! I've won, I've won!'
Quoth she, and whistled thrice.
A gust of wind sterte up behind
And whistled thro' his bones;
Thro' the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
Half-whistles and half-groans.
With never a whisper in the Sea
Off darts the Spectre-ship;
While clombe above the Eastern bar
The horned Moon, with one bright Star
Almost atween the tips.
One after one by the horned Moon
(Listen, O Stranger! to me)
Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang
And curs'd me with his ee.
Four times fifty living men,
With never a sigh or groan,
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump
They dropp'd down one by one.
There souls did from their bodies fly,--
They fled to bliss or woe;
And every soul it pass'd me by,
Like the whiz of my Cross-bow.

from PART V

Listen, O listen, thou Wedding-guest!
`Marinere! thou hast thy will:
`For that, which comes out of thine eye, doth make
`My body and soul to be still.'
Never sadder tale was told
To a man of woman born:
Sadder and wiser thou wedding-guest!
Thou'lt rise to-morrow morn.
Never sadder tale was heard
By a man of woman born:
The Marineres all return'd to work
As silent as beforne.
The Marineres all 'gan pull the ropes
But look at me they n'old:
Thought I, I am as thin as air--
They cannot me behold.

from PART VI

The moonlight bay was white all o'er,
Till rising from the same,
Full many shapes, that shadows were,
Like as of torches came.
A little distance from the prow
Those dark-red shadows were;
But soon I saw that my own flesh
Was red as in a glare.
I turn'd my head in fear and dread,
And by the holy rood,
The bodies had advanc'd, and now
Before the mast they stood.
They lifted up their stiff right arms,
They held them strait and tight;
And each right-arm burnt like a torch,
A torch that's borne upright.
Their stony eye-balls glitter'd on
In the red and smoky light.
I pray'd and turn'd my head away
Forth looking as before.
There was no breeze upon the bay,
No wave against the shore.

...

Then vanish'd all the lovely lights;
The bodies rose anew:
With silent pace, each to his place
Came back the ghastly crew.
The wind, that shade nor motion made,
On me alone it blew.

1797-1798, from the version published in 1798, final version mostly dates from 1817.

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