2. Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Samuel Taylor Coleridge (21 October 1772 – 25
July 1834) was an English poet, literary critic
and philosopher who, with his friend William
Wordsworth, was a founder of the Romantic
Movement in England and a member of the
Lake Poets. He is probably best known for his
poems The Rime of the Ancient Mariner and
Kubla Khan, as well as for his major prose work
Biographia Literaria. His critical
work, especially on Shakespeare, was highly
influential, and he helped introduce German
idealist philosophy to English-speaking
culture. He coined many familiar words and
phrases, including the celebrated. He was a
major influence, via Emerson, on American
transcendentalism.
3. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner (originally The
Rime of the Ancyent Marinere) is the longest major
poem by the English poet Samuel Taylor
Coleridge, written in 1797–98 and published in 1798
in the first edition of Lyrical Ballads. Modern editions
use a later revised version printed in 1817 that
featured a gloss. Along with other poems in Lyrical
Ballads, it was a signal shift to modern poetry and
the beginning of British Romantic literature.
4. A brief introduction…….
The Rime of the fascination as the
Ancient Mariner Mariner's story
relates the experiences progresses, as can be
of a sailor who has seen in the language
style: for
returned from a long example, Coleridge
sea voyage. The uses narrative
Mariner stops a man techniques such as
who is on the way to a personification and
wedding ceremony and repetition to create
begins to narrate a either a sense of
story. The Wedding- danger, of the
Guest's reaction turns supernatural or of
5. The Mariner's tale begins with his ship departing on its journey.
Despite initial good fortune, the ship is driven south off course
by a storm and eventually reaches Antarctica. An albatross
appears and leads them out of the Antarctic but, even as the
albatross is praised by the ship's crew, the Mariner shoots the
bird ("with my cross-bow / I shot the albatross"). The crew is
angry with the Mariner, believing the albatross brought the
south wind that led them out of the Antarctic. However, the
sailors change their minds when the weather becomes warmer
and the mist disappears ("Taws' right, said they, such birds to
slay / that bring the fog and mist"). However, they made a
grave mistake in supporting this crime as it arouses the wrath
of spirits who then pursue the ship "from the land of mist and
snow"; the south wind that had initially led them from the land
of ice now sends the ship into uncharted waters, where it is
becalmed.
7. One by one, all of the crew members die, but the Mariner lives on, seeing for seven
days and nights the curse in the eyes of the crew's corpses, whose last expressions
remain upon their faces. Eventually, the Mariner's curse is temporarily lifted when
he sees sea creatures swimming in the water. Despite his cursing them as "slimy
things" earlier in the poem ("Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs / upon the slimy
sea"), he suddenly sees their true beauty and blesses them ("a spring of love gush'd
from my heart and I bless'd them unaware"); suddenly, as he manages to pray, the
albatross falls from his neck and his guilt is partially expiated. The bodies of the
crew, possessed by good spirits, rise again and steer the ship back home, where it
sinks in a whirlpool, leaving only the Mariner behind.The hermit prays, and the
Mariner picks up the oars to row. The pilot's boy goes crazy and laughs, thinking
the Mariner is the devil, and says, "The Devil knows how to row." As penance for
shooting the albatross, the Mariner, driven by guilt, is forced to wander the
earth, tell his story, and teach a lesson to those he meets:
He prayeth best, who loveth best
All things both great and small;
For the dear God who loveth us,
He made and loveth all.
After relating the story, the Mariner leaves, and the Wedding Guest returns
home, and wakes the next morning "a sadder and a wiser man".
9. And the coming wind did roar more loud,
And the sails did sigh like sedge;
And the rain poured down from one black
cloud;
The Moon was at its edge.
The thick black cloud was cleft, and still
The Moon was at its side:
Like waters shot from some high crag,
The lightning fell with never a jag,
A river steep and wide.
The loud wind never reached the ship,
Yet now the ship moved on!
Beneath the lightning and the Moon
The dead men gave a groan.
They groaned, they stirred, they all uprose,
Nor spake, nor moved their eyes;
It had been strange, even in a dream,
To have seen those dead men rise.
The helmsman steered, the ship moved on;
Yet never a breeze up blew;
The mariners all 'gan work the ropes,
Were they were wont to do:
They raised their limbs like lifeless tools--
We were a ghastly crew.
10. The body of my brother's son,
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope,
But he said nought to me.
"I fear thee, ancient Mariner!"
Be calm, thou Wedding-Guest!
'Twas not those souls that fled in pain,
Which to their corses came again,
But a troop of spirits blest:
For when it dawned--they dropped their
arms,
And clustered round the mast;
Sweet sounds rose slowly through their
mouths,
And from their bodies passed.
Around, around, flew each sweet
sound,
Then darted to the Sun;
Slowly the sounds came back again,
Now mixed, now one by one.
Sometimes a-dropping from the sky
I heard the sky-lark sing;
11. And now 'twas like all instruments,
Now like a lonely flute;
And now it is an angel's song,
That makes the Heavens be mute.
It ceased; yet still the sails made on
A pleasant noise till noon,
A noise like of a hidden brook
In the leafy month of June,
That to the sleeping woods all night
Singeth a quiet tune.
Till noon we quietly sailed on,
Yet never a breeze did breathe:
Slowly and smoothly went the ship,
Moved onward from beneath.
Under the keel nine fathom deep,
From the land of mist and snow,
The spirit slid: and it was he
That made the ship to go.
The sails at noon left off their tune,
And the ship stood still also.
12. The Sun, right up above the mast,
Had fixed her to the ocean:
But in a minute she 'gan stir,
With a short uneasy motion--
Backwards and forwards half her
length
With a short uneasy motion.
Then like a pawing horse let go,
She made a sudden bound:
It flung the blood into my head,
And I fell down in a swound.
How long in that same fit I lay,
I have not to declare;
But ere my living life returned,
I heard and in my soul discerned
Two VOICES in the air.
"Is it he?" quoth one, "Is this the man?
By him who died on cross,
With his cruel bow he laid full low,
The harmless Albatross.
13. "The spirit who bideth by
himself
In the land of mist and snow,
He loved the bird that loved
the man
Who shot him with his bow."
The other was a softer voice,
As soft as honey-dew:
Quoth he, "The man hath
penance done,
And penance more will do."
14. Summary……….
After the albatross falls off our hero’s neck, he can finally sleep. In his sleep he dreams of drinkable
water, and sure enough, he wakes up to rain. Bear in mind, ever since midway through Part II, the guy’s
had nothing to drink but the blood he sucked from his own arm in Part III.
And now, things are getting really crazy. All around the ship, supernatural events are occurring. For one
thing, there’s a great storm of wind, which doesn’t actually reach the ship, but is so close and so strong
that the mere sound of it makes the sails tremble. Mysterious fire dances through the sky; as for the
rain, it’s coming from one isolated cloud (presumably right above the ship), so that the moon is still
visible. Lightning from this cloud doesn’t bend like normal lightning.
As if that wasn’t weird enough, the ship begins to move now, even though the wind still hasn’t reached it;
the dead men suddenly groan and rise up, animated corpses, but it’s evident that their spirits are not
there: they do not respond to the narrator. They resume their tasks, but carry them out like robots.
When the night ends, the zombies gather and begin to sing! A beautiful angelic chorus.
The ship comes to a stop around noon, but not for long. The vessel starts sliding back and forth in the
water, before suddenly shooting forward like a rocket, with so much force that it topples our friend and
puts him in a daze. In that daze, he hears spirits talking about him: it turns out there was a spirit in the
arctic region who was friends with the Albatross, and that spirit seems to have cast the curse on the
ship. Furthermore, it’s revealed that while things have recently gotten better for the suffering sailor, he
has more woe to come: “And penance more will do.”
15. Not only can he pray again, but he can also
LINE WISE sleep again. Exhausted from all the endless
cursing and dying of thirst, he falls asleep.
EXPLANATION He credits Mary, the mother of Christ, for
this sleep.
Naturally, he dreams about drinking water.
Stanzas 67-69 But his dream actually comes true: it rains
when he wakes up. Sailors are really good
at collecting rainwater from their sails and
in buckets, and the Mariner has all the
water he needs.
(In reality, a severely dehydrated person
like that would probably die from drinking
too much water too fast, but we won't
quibble with Coleridge on this one.)
He feels as light as if he had died and was
now a ghost. But a happy ghost.
16. Stanzas 71-75
Now that the curse has been lifted, more good news
follows. He hears a loud wind in the distance. The sound
of the wind rattles the dried out ("sere") sails. But it's
important to remember that the wind hasn't reached
the ship yet.
He sees new activity in the sky. More stars return, and
he sees things he calls "fire-flags." We have to think
he's either talking about weird lightning flashes – but
without clouds to block the stars – or the Aurora (in
this case, the Southern Lights).
He sees a black cloud, the partial moon and lightning
falling in perfectly vertical fashion. We're not sure
exactly what's going on, except that these are wild
descriptions.
17.
18. LINE 79 AND 80
The Wedding Guest interrupts the story
again. He's not the bravest Wedding Guest
we've ever heard of. He's afraid that the
Mariner is now telling a zombie story.
The Mariner reassures the frightened
Wedding Guest that the bodies of the
sailors were possessed not by their original
owners, but by a bunch of good spirits, like
angels. Oh, that helps.
The Mariner continues his story.
He knew that spirits were angels
because, when dawn comes, they all
escape from the bodies and break out into
song.
19. Stanzas 81-85
The spirits float around the ship and sing
like birds. They are like an entire
symphony of voices. They stop singing
after dawn, but the sails continue to
make a pleasant sound like a stream
following through a forest.
The ship keeps moving, but there's no
wind. What gives? The Mariner is
sticking with his theory that someone or
something is moving the boat from
underneath the ocean.
20. Stanzas 86-92
The Mariner explains his theory in more detail. The same spirit "nine
fathoms deep" that earlier caused such problems near the Arctic has
now decided to play nice and guide the ship up to the equator. At noon
the sun is again directly above the mast, which means that we're back
at the equator.
The ship stops and remains motionless for a bit. Then, all of a sudden,
the ship takes off as if someone has just released a really fast horse or,
to use a more modern metaphor, as if someone has put the gas pedal
to the floor.
The force of this movement knocks out the Mariner, and he loses
consciousness. While in a stupor, he hears two mysterious voices
talking. We're back in supernatural territory, here.
One of the voices wants to know if the Mariner is the guy who shot the
nice albatross. He sounds judgmental.
The other voice sounds gentler and says that the Mariner has done a
lot of penance for his mistake, and he'll do more penance in the future.
We've got a bit of a good cop/bad cop routine here.