It is an ancyent Marinere,
And he stoppeth one of three:
“By thy long grey beard and thy glittering eye
“Now wherefore stoppest me?
“The Bridegroom’s doors are open’d 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,
“Marinere! come with me.”
He holds him with his skinny hand,
Quoth he, there was a Ship—
“Now get thee hence, thou grey-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 year’s child;
The Marinere hath his will.
The wedding-guest sate on a stone,
He cannot chuse but hear:
And thus spake on that ancyent man,
The bright-eyed Marinere.
The Ship was cheer’d, the Harbour clear’d—
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.
