"A SAIL! A SAIL!"
("The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.")
The Ship is suddenly becalmed, and findeth that enforced silence means not peaceful progress.]
Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
With flopping sail of what avail
The silence of the sea?
Day after day, day after day,
We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
As idle as a painted ship
Upon a painted ocean.
The Spirit of Obstruction had followed in spook-like silent, sub-marine secrecy.]
And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us,
From the land of mist and snow.
If this be so, my shipmates said,
What use that bird to shoot?
We make no way, no more than if
We were shackled hand and foot.
The shipmates, in their sore distress, are tempted to throw the blame on the Ancient Mariner.]
Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
My gain seemed loss, the Albatross
Around my neck was hung.
II.
The Ancient Mariner beholdeth a long-hoped-for sign in the element afar off.]
There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a dreary time!
(Devoted to "Supply,")
When, looking westward, I beheld
A Something in the sky!
It groweth and assumeth substantial shape.]
At first it seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed a mist:
It moved, and moved, and took at last
A certain shape, I wist.
A speck, a mist, a shape I wist!
And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged some awkward question
It plunged, and tacked, and veered.
At its nearer approach it seemeth to him to be a ship, bearing the hopeful name of Autumn Session.]
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
We scarce could laugh or wail;
Through utter drought all dumb we stood!
I bit my tongue—it did me good—
And cried "A Sail! A Sail!!!"
A flash of joy among his shipmates,]
With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,
Agape they heard me call.
Gramercy! They for joy did grin,
And all at once their breath drew in,
As they were whistling all.
And of anger amidst their foes.]
Our fierce foes' faces went aflame,
They felt that they were done!
Their thoughts were of the western main,
Of moor, and dog, and gun,
When that strange shape drave suddenly
Betwixt us and the Sun.
The Ancient Mariner postponeth the sequel of his strange story to a more convenient occasion.]
Ah, Member pressed, I'll leave the rest
Until—say next December!
Whether that Sail did bring us aid,
Or with my shipmate's wishes played;
Whether it made them welcome Autumn,
Or Tales of Hope to question taught 'em;
Whether (as spook) that Albatross
Appeared again our path to cross;
If it portended gain or loss
(Uncertain these, as pitch-and-toss!)
I'll tell you when again we meet,
On this same post, in this same street—
Oh, Member pressed—remember!
