Chapter XII: Part I

It is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?

The Bridegroom’s doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May’st hear the merry din.”

He holds him with his skinny hand,
“There was a ship,” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!”
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

He holds him with his glittering eye――
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years’ child:
The Mariner hath his will.

The Wedding-Guest sat on a stone:
He cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man,
The bright-eyed Mariner.

“The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
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.

The bride hath paced into the hall,
Red as a rose is she;
Nodding their heads before her goes
The merry minstrelsy.

The Wedding-Guest he beat his breast,
Yet he cannot choose but hear;
And thus spake on that ancient man
The bright-eyed Mariner.

“And now the storm-blast came, and he
Was tyrannous and strong:
He struck with his o’ertaking wings,
And chased us south along.

With sloping masts and dipping prow,
As who pursued with yell and blow
Still treads the shadow of his foe,
And forward bends his head,
The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast,
And southward aye we fled.

And now there came both mist and snow,
And it grew wondrous cold:
And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
As green as emerald.

And through the drifts the snowy clifts
Did send a dismal sheen;
Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken――
The ice was all between.

The ice was here, the ice was there,
The ice was all around:
It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
Like noises in a swound!

At length did cross an albatross,
Through the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name.

It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew,
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!

And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners’ hollo!

In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white
Glimmered the white moon-shine.”

“God save thee, ancient Mariner,
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!――
Why look’st thou so?”――“With my cross-bow
I shot the Albatross.”

S. T. COLERIDGE.

――――

THE SHERIFF’S OFFICER.
(_By the Great Unmentionable._)

It is a Sheriff’s Officer
And he stoppeth one of three.
“By thy shocking bad hat, and quaint surtout,
Now wherefore stopp’st thou me?”

He collars him with his dirty hand,
“There is a writ,” quoth he.
“Hold off! unhand me, scoundrel, loon!
Thou liest! it cannot be!”

He holds him with his sparkling eye――
The arrestee stood still,
And trembles like a rocking horse,
The officer hath his will.

The arrestee is dragged along;
He cannot choose but stir;
While thus spake on that awful man,
The Sheriff’s Officer.

The oath was drawn, the oath was sworn,
The parchment pounced, and all that,
The signer signed, and the sealer sealed,
And lo, here is the Latitat.

“I am the bailiff employed to nab,
Out of the City I come,
Where, the lawyers’ will tell you, there’s not a more
Indefatigable Bum!”

The arrestee then ’gan to see
How the Bum he could give leg bail,
And now he bethinks him of a plan,
Which may, or may not fail.

“Santa Maria, you’ve made a mistake,
My honour,” quoth he, “upon’t,
My name, gentle Bum, is White, not Wright,
I’m not the person you want.”

“Oh, yes, _you’re_ the gentleman that I want,”
Was the wary Bum’s reply;
Said the arrestee, “it cannot be,
No gentleman am I.”

But it wouldn’t do, the writ was true,
And so was the bailiff eke,
In the lock-up house he hath got his man,
A prisoner safe and meek.

* * * * *

The arrestee is at Calais now,
Out of the Bench came he,
Genteelly dres’t, like a buck of the west,
Who the deuce could he be?

At first they saw him every day,
And then a week him missed;
He went and came, and came and went,
He was a _Do_, I wist.

A do, a hum, a cheat I wist,
Gramercy, observe his grin;
He’s taking himself of the city out,
After taking the citizens in.

“Oh, tic, it is a useful thing,
Beloved from pole to pole;
The Insolvent’s Court cuts the matter short,
And calms the troubled soul.”

Thus thought the arrestee, as on
The deck of a steamer he stood,
Oblivious quite of his Calais debts,
Having made his retreat thence good.

He went to the Fleet, and one night came out,
Of his debts and his character shorn,
A free and unencumbered man
He rose the morrow morn.

_The Comic Magazine._ Fourth Series. 1834.

――――

LE LECTURÉ MALGRÉ LUI.
(_A lay for Cantabs._)

It is a Trinity Lecturer,
And he stoppeth one of eight;
By thy lantern jaws and spindle shanks.
Why dost thou make me wait?

The breakfast’s set, the men are met,
And I am peckish――very.
It’s late already――hark! that roar!
May’st hear them getting merry.

He pointeth to the lecture-room,
“’Tis nine o’clock,” quoth he.
“Upon my word I cannot come,
For Jones expecteth me.”

He pointeth to the Master’s lodge,
The unbreakfasted turned blue;
He had been hauled up twice before,
So he saw it was a do.

He followed to the lecture-room,
And often sighed “Oh dear!”
While thus spake on that lantern-jaw’d,
And long-legged lecturer.

He talked of siphons, pumps, and valves,
And engines piping hot;
But what he said I cannot tell,
For I understand it not.

Now when the clock struck half-past nine,
There was a shouting noise;
The unbreakfasted here beat his breast,
For he knew ’twas Jones’s voice.

The cyder-cup he knows hath come,
And he too well can feel,
That the gyp is walking off with all
The remnants of the meal.

The unbreakfasted he scratched his head――
How wretched ’twas to hear;
And still spake on that lantern-jaw’d,
And long-legged lecturer.

* * * * *

The lecturer whose legs are long,
Whose cheeks are very lean,
Is gone; and now the unbreakfasted
At Jones’s door is seen.

But he turned away like one who’s starved,
For it was “on the sport;”
A sadder and a hungrier man,
He rushed across the court.

_The Man in the Moon._ Volume II. 1847.

――――

THE RHIME OF THE SEEDY BARRISTERE,