Part 8

‘A man can only sit so long

As silent as can be,

And listening to ev’rything

Reveal’d by all of ye.’

 

We slowly turned and there discerned

A darkened place past E.

But, though concealed, the light revealed

Two legs for us to see.

We prior saw those legs in awe,

As that was simply all

The light could see of whom could be

Against the darkened wall.

 

From there was where arose our scare,

But still to give us fright,

Quite undismayed those legs now made

Towards the sombre light.

 

Held in suspense, completely tense-

With goose-bump-ravaged skin-

We gradually began to see

A man so brown and thin.

 

His hair and beard looked rather weird

So matted, grey, and long.

Though old and frail, and ghostly pale,

The man stood tall and strong.

 

His clothes were blue, and through and through

Were frayed from years gone by.

A cross he wore, and, what is more,

A glimmer lit his eye.

 

‘Infernal beast don’t take me now,

Don’t taunt me of my cell!

The hour has yet to chime my time!

Go back! Go back to Hell!’

 

‘Compose thyself, thou Music Man,’

The man was calm to say,

‘This cross full well ensureth Hell

Is ever kept at bay.

 

Although I once drew very near

That damn’d, infernal place.

Yet when I pray’d to be redeem’d,

The Lord sent down his grace.’

 

‘And so what purpose brings you here?’

The captain fought his fear,

‘Who are you, sir, to just appear

And devastate our cheer?’

‘I’m one who travels far and wide,’

The old man softly said,

‘To seek all those with inner wounds

That cause their woe and dread.

 

I tell my tale through which they pale,

And then they leave forlorn.

But, gentlemen, much wiser men

They wake the morrow morn.

 

’Tis that which I shall make of ye,

For that’s my purpose here.

Yet though but few of ye are pain’d,

’Tis best ye all give ear.

 

I am the Ancient Mariner,

The life I loved and knew

Hath worn away that many say

I’m like the Wand’ring Jew.

 

For ever damn’d am I to walk

Alone about the Earth

To tell my tale to all who lack

The blissful flame of mirth.

 

Now, gentlemen, from where I sat

Against the darken’d wall,

I heard thy speeches, tales, and threap,

Thus came to know ye all.

 

Yet dare I say thy sins are weak,

They’re not too great a fall.

When I am through ye all will know

My sin is worst of all.

 

There was a ship that once had sail’d

The vast and mystic seas

Where many would rejoice to smell

The salt within the breeze.

 

The ship was cheer’d, the harbour clear’d,

And gaily did we drop

Below the kirk, below the hill,

Below the lighthouse top.

For days we sail’d, then came a storm

So tyrannous and strong:

It struck us with his mighty wings,

And chased us south along.

 

And then there came both mist and snow,

And winds were growing cold:

The ice, mast high, came floating by

As green as emerald.

 

All through the drifts the snowy clifts

Did send a dismal sheen:

No shapes of men nor beasts we ken-"

The ice was all between.

 

And thus upon the southern sea

The ship was frozen still,

While Cold’s sharp blade pierced through and made

The lot of us quite ill.

 

At length did cross an Albatross,

Which lit our inner coals.

We hail’d it in the name of God

As one would Christian souls.

 

It ate the food we gave to it,

And round and round it flew.

The ice now split with thund’rous fits;

The helmsman steer’d us through.

 

And while, at last, we headed north

The Albatross did follow,

And ev’ry day, for food or play,

It came when we would hollo.

 

For vespers nine it stayed with us,

Then like a splinter’d cross

It fell, for know with my crossbow

I shot the Albatross.

 

O I had done a hellish thing,

And it would work ’em woe:

For all averr’d I kill’d the bird

That made the breeze to blow.

“Ah wretch!” said they, “the bird to slay

That make the breeze to blow.”

 

’Twas morning then, good gentlemen,

The glorious Sun uprist,

And all averr’d I kill’d the bird

That brought the fog and mist.

“’Twas right!” said they, “such birds to slay

That bring the fog and mist.”

 

And that was what had happened then,

Precisely that occurred:

The mists did fade and breezes ceased

Once I had kill’d the bird.

 

For many days we all remained

With neither breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

 

But then the ship began to sink,

The waters burnt like fire,

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs-

The sign of God’s own ire.

 

And O! What evil looks I got

From all those old and young.

And ere I knew the Albatross

About my neck was hung.

 

While ev’ry throat of ours was parch’d,

And glazed was ev’ry eye,

I turned toward the West and saw

A vessel in the sky.

 

But ’twas the ship of Death herself,

And how it near’d and near’d.

And standing straight beside her Mate,

How wickedly she leer’d.

 

Her lips were red, her looks were free,

Her locks as bright as gold.

A Nightmare white as leprosy

Who thicks men’s blood with cold.

She leer’d, she sneer’d, and, whistling thrice,

She vanished out of sight.

Then four times fifty living men

Fell dead that very night.

 

But, mark, this body dropt not down,

Death left me there at sea

For seven days and seven nights

Upon my ship’s debris.

 

Then once the Sun proclaimed day eight,

And still I could not die,

And still the Lord ignored my prayers

When prayers were worth the try,

 

Some water-snakes were swimming near

The ship of great despair.

I thought them fair and then and there

I bless’d them unaware.

 

That selfsame moment could I pray;

And from my neck so free

The Albatross fell off, and sank

Like lead into the sea.

 

And while the Moon was rising high,

How free I came to be.

No longer was I burdened so,

At last He pardoned me.

 

Then ’neath the Moon and soothing rain

There came a great surprise:

The four times fifty men that crew’d

My ship began to rise.

It had been strange, ’twas though a dream

To see those dead men rise.

 

They rose and took their wonted posts,

And once again we sail’d

(Despite the lack of wind) towards

The land from which we hail’d.

 

The moment we could spot the shore,

The dead men fell once more.

And in there place their seraphim

Did wave and turn to soar.

 

’Twas then internally I knew

That cursed I still would be.

The Lord had bid me tell my tale

To wretched souls like me.

 

And in that selfsame instant I

Had come to this recall:

He prayeth best who loveth best

All things both great and small;

For God above who loveth us

Had made and loveth all.’

-EDP