August 19, 2021

The Rime of the Ancient Mariner
By: Samuel Taylor Coleridge (1798)

in seven parts

Part 1 An old mariner stops a group on their way to a wedding. The leader of the group listens to the mariner’s story. The mariner’s tale starts out with calm seas and a happy crew, but a sudden storm and strange weather change the mood. The mariner’s actions upset the crew. 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, 5 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. 10 “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: 15 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. 20 “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, 25 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—” 30 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 35 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. 40 “And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o’ertaking wings, And chased south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, 45 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. 50 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 55 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: 60 It cracked and growled, and roared and howled, Like noises in a swound! At length did cross an Albatross: Thorough the fog it came; As if it had been a Christian soul, 65 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! 70 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, 75 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!— 80 Why look’st thou ”—With my cross-bow I shot the Albatross.

Part 2 The conditions at sea improve, causing the crew to change their opinion of the mariner. When the conditions change for the worse the crew force the mariner to wear the dead albatross as a sign of guilt. The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left 85 Went down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew behind But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners’ hollo! 90 And I had done an hellish thing, And it would work ’em woe: For all averred, I had killed the bird That made the breeze to blow. Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay 95 That made the breeze to blow! Nor dim nor red, like God’s own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. 100 ’Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist. The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free: We were the first that ever burst 105 Into that silent sea. Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, ’Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! 110 All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon. Day after day, day after day, 115 We stuck, nor breath nor motion; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean. Water, water, every where, And all the boards did shrink; 120 Water, water, every where, Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ! That ever this should be! Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs 125 Upon the slimy sea. About, about, in reel and rout The death-fires danced at night; The water, like a witch's oils, Burnt green, and blue and white. 130 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. And every tongue, through utter drought, 135 Was withered at the root; We could not speak, no more than if We had been choked with soot. Ah! well a-day! what evil looks Had I from old and young! 140 Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung.

Part 3 The crew is overtaken with thirst. The approach of another ship causes the mariner to become hopeful. But as the ship gets ever closer, his hope turns to dread. There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! 145 How glazed each weary eye, When looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seemed a little speck, And then it seemed a mist: 150 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 a water-sprite, 155 It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could not laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 160 And cried, A sail! a sail! 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, 165 As they were drinking all. See! see! (I cried) she tacks no more! Hither to work us weal; Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel! 170 The western wave was all a-flame The day was well nigh done! Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun; When that strange shape drove suddenly 175 Betwixt us and the Sun. And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, (Heaven's Mother send us grace!) As if through a dungeon-grate he peered, With broad and burning face. 180 Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she nears and nears! Are those her sails that glance in the Sun, Like restless gossameres! Are those her ribs through which the Sun 185 Did peer, as through a grate? And is that Woman all her crew? Is that a Death? and are there two? Is Death that woman's mate? Her lips were red, her looks were free, 190 Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Night-Mare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man’s blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, 195 And the twain were casting dice; “The game is done! I’ve won! I’ve won!” Quoth she, and whistles thrice. The Sun’s rim dips; the stars rush out: At one stride comes the dark; 200 With far-heard whisper, o’er the sea. Off shot the spectre-bark. We listened and looked sideways up! Fear at my heart, as at a cup, My life-blood seemed to sip! 205 The stars were dim, and thick the night, The steersman’s face by his lamp gleamed white; From the sails the dew did drip— Till clombe above the eastern bar The horned Moon, with one bright star 210 Within the nether tip. One after one, by the star-dogged Moon Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turned his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye. 215 Four times fifty living men, (And I heard nor sigh nor groan) With heavy thump, a lifeless lump, They dropped down one by one. The souls did from their bodies fly,— 220 They fled to bliss or woe! And every soul, it passed me by, Like the whizz of my cross-bow!

Part 4 As the Mariner’s tale continues, his appearance starts to alarm the wedding guest. The Mariner tells of the crew’s fate. After a period alone on the ship a prayer releases the weight of his guilt. “I fear thee, ancient Mariner! I fear thy skinny hand! 225 And thou art long, and lank, and brown, As is the ribbed sea-sand. I fear thee and thy glittering eye, And thy skinny hand, so brown.”— Fear not, fear not, thou Wedding-Guest! 230 This body dropt not down. Alone, alone, all, all alone, Alone on a wide wide sea! And never a saint took pity on My soul in agony. 235 The many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie: And a thousand thousand slimy things Lived on; and so did I. I looked upon the rotting sea, 240 And drew my eyes away; I looked upon the rotting deck, And there the dead men lay. I looked to Heaven, and tried to pray: But or ever a prayer had gusht, 245 A wicked whisper came, and made my heart as dry as dust. I closed my lids, and kept them close, And the balls like pulses beat; For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky 250 Lay like a load on my weary eye, And the dead were at my feet. The cold sweat melted from their limbs, Nor rot nor reek did they: The look with which they looked on me 255 Had never passed away. An orphan’s curse would drag to Hell A spirit from on high; But oh! more horrible than that Is a curse in a dead man’s eye! 260 Seven days, seven nights, I saw that curse, And yet I could not die. The moving Moon went up the sky, And no where did abide: Softly she was going up, 265 And a star or two beside. Her beams bemocked the sultry main, Like April hoar-frost spread; But where the ship’s huge shadow lay, The charmed water burnt alway 270 A still and awful red. Beyond the shadow of the ship, I watched the water-snakes: They moved in tracks of shining white, And when they reared, the elfish light 275 Fell off in hoary flakes. Within the shadow of the ship I watched their rich attire: Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, They coiled and swam; and every track 280 Was a flash of golden fire. O happy living things! no tongue Their beauty might declare: A spring of love gushed from my heart, And I blessed them unaware: 285 Sure my kind saint took pity on me, And I blessed them unaware. The self same moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank 290 Like lead into the sea.

Part 5 The weather once again changes for the better, quenching the thirst of the Mariner. The crew, although changed, continue to perform their assigned duties. Oh sleep! it is a gentle thing, Beloved from pole to pole! To Mary Queen the praise be given! She sent the gentle sleep from Heaven, 295 That slid into my soul. The silly buckets on the deck, That had so long remained, I dreamt that they were filled with dew; And when I awoke, it rained. 300 My lips were wet, my throat was cold, My garments all were dank; Sure I had drunken in my dreams, And still my body drank. I moved, and could not feel my limbs: 305 I was so light—almost I thought that I had died in sleep, And was a blessed ghost. And soon I heard a roaring wind: It did not come anear; 310 But with its sound it shook the sails, That were so thin and sere. The upper air burst into life! And a hundred fire-flags sheen, To and fro they were hurried about! 315 And to and fro, and in and out, The wan stars danced between. And the coming wind did roar more loud, And the sails did sigh like sedge; And the rain poured down from one black cloud; 320 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, 325 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. 330 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; 335 Yet never a breeze up blew; The mariners all ’gan work the ropes, Where they were wont to do: They raised their limbs like lifeless tools— We were a ghastly crew. 340 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!” 345 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, 350 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; 355 Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the sky-lark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, 360 How they seemed to fill the sea and air With their sweet jargoning! And now ’twas like all instruments, Now like a lonely flute; And now it is an angel’s song, 365 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, 370 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, 375 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. 380 The sails at noon left off their tune, And the ship stood still also. The Sun, right up above the mast, Had fixed her to the ocean: But in a minute she ’gan stir, 385 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: 390 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, 395 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, 400 The harmless Albatross. 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.” 405 The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew: Quoth he, “The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.”

Part 6 Phantom voices question the what is driving the ship forward. As the voices disappear, the Mariner awakes to find the crew glaring at him. The ship approaches shore. first voice “But tell me, tell me! speak again, 410 Thy soft response renewing— What makes that ship drive on so fast? What is the ocean doing?” second voice “Still as a slave before his lord, The ocean hath no blast; 415 His great bright eye most silently Up to the Moon is cast— If he may know which way to go; For she guides him smooth or grim See, brother, see! how graciously 420 She looketh down on him.” first voice “But why drives on that ship so fast, Without or wave or wind?” second voice “The air is cut away before, And closes from behind. 425 Fly, brother, fly! more high, more high Or we shall be belated: For slow and slow that ship will go, When the Mariner's trance is abated.” I woke, and we were sailing on 430 As in a gentle weather: ’Twas night, calm night, the Moon was high; The dead men stood together. All stood together on the deck, For a charnel-dungeon fitter: 435 All fixed on me their stony eyes, That in the Moon did glitter. The pang, the curse, with which they died, Had never passed away: I could not draw my eyes from theirs, 440 Nor turn them up to pray. And now this spell was snapt: once more I viewed the ocean green. And looked far forth, yet little saw Of what had else been seen— 445 Like one that on a lonesome road Doth walk in fear and dread, And having once turned round walks on, And turns no more his head; Because he knows, a frightful fiend 450 Doth close behind him tread. But soon there breathed a wind on me, Nor sound nor motion made: Its path was not upon the sea, In ripple or in shade. 455 It raised my hair, it fanned my cheek Like a meadow-gale of spring— It mingled strangely with my fears, Yet it felt like a welcoming. Swiftly, swiftly flew the ship, 460 Yet she sailed softly too: Sweetly, sweetly blew the breeze— On me alone it blew. Oh! dream of joy! is this indeed The light-house top I see? 465 Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own countree! We drifted o’er the harbour-bar, And I with sobs did pray— O let me be awake, my God! 470 Or let me sleep alway. The harbour-bay was clear as glass, So smoothly it was strewn! And on the bay the moonlight lay, And the shadow of the moon. 475 The rock shone bright, the kirk no less, That stands above the rock: The moonlight steeped in silentness The steady weathercock. And the bay was white with silent light, 480 Till rising from the same, Full many shapes, that shadows were, In crimson colours came. A little distance from the prow Those crimson shadows were: 485 I turned my eyes upon the deck— Oh, Christ! what saw I there! Each corse lay flat, lifeless and flat, And, by the holy rood! A man all light, a seraph-man, 490 On every corse there stood. This seraph band, each waved his hand: It was a heavenly sight! They stood as signals to the land, Each one a lovely light: 495 This seraph-band, each waved his hand, No voice did they impart— No voice; but oh! the silence sank Like music on my heart. But soon I heard the dash of oars; 500 I heard the Pilot’s cheer; My head was turned perforce away, And I saw a boat appear. The Pilot, and the Pilot’s boy, I heard them coming fast: 505 Dear Lord in Heaven! it was a joy The dead men could not blast. I saw a third—I heard his voice: It is the Hermit good! He singeth loud his godly hymns 510 That he makes in the wood. He’ll shrieve my soul, he’ll wash away The Albatross’s blood.

Part 7 The crew of an approaching boat is apprehensive about getting closer to the Mariner’s ship. The sudden sinking of the ship put everyone in harm’s way. The Mariner is compelled to share his story with the Hermit, and eases his own pain in the process. This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. 515 How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineres That come from a far countree. He kneels at morn and noon and eve— He hath a cushion plump: 520 It is the moss that wholly hides The rotted old oak-stump. The skiff-boat neared: I heard them talk, “Why this is strange, I trow! Where are those lights so many and fair, 525 That signal made but now?” “Strange, by my faith!” the Hermit said— “And they answered not our cheer! The planks looked warped! and see those sails, How thin they are and sere! 530 I never saw aught like to them, Unless perchance it were Brown skeletons of leaves that lag My forest-brook along; When the ivy-tod is heavy with snow, 535 And the owlet whoops to the wolf below, That eats the she-wolf’s young.” “Dear Lord! it hath a fiendish look”— (The Pilot made reply) “I am a-feared”—“Push on, push on!” 540 Said the Hermit cheerily. The boat came closer to the ship, But I nor spake nor stirred; The boat came close beneath the ship, And straight a sound was heard. 545 Under the water it rumbled on, Still louder and more dread: It reached the ship, it split the bay; The ship went down like lead. Stunned by that loud and dreadful sound, 550 Which sky and ocean smote, Like one that hath been seven days drowned My body lay afloat; But swift as dreams, myself I found Within the Pilot’s boat. 555 Upon the whirl, where sank the ship, The boat spun round and round; And all was still, save that the hill Was telling of the sound. I moved my lips—the Pilot shrieked 560 And fell down in a fit; The holy Hermit raised his eyes, And prayed where he did sit. I took the oars: the Pilot’s boy, Who now doth crazy go, 565 Laughed loud and long, and all the while His eyes went to and fro. “Ha! ha!” quoth he, “full plain I see, The Devil knows how to row.” And now, all in my own countree, 570 I stood on the firm land! The Hermit stepped forth from the boat, And scarcely he could stand. “O shrieve me, shrieve me, holy man!” The Hermit crossed his brow. 575 “Say quick,” quoth he, “I bid thee say— What manner of man art thou?” Forthwith this frame of mine was wrenched With a woeful agony, Which forced me to begin my tale; 580 And then it left me free. Since then, at an uncertain hour, That agony returns; And till my ghastly tale is told, This heart within me burns. 585 I pass, like night, from land to land; I have strange power of speech; That moment that his face I see, I know the man that must hear me: To him my tale I teach. 590 What loud uproar bursts from that door! The wedding-guests are there: But in the garden-bower the bride And bride-maids singing are: And hark the little vesper bell, 595 Which biddeth me to prayer! O Wedding-Guest! this soul hath been Alone on a wide wide sea: So lonely ’twas, that God himself Scarce seemed there to be. 600 O sweeter than the marriage-feast, ’Tis sweeter far to me, To walk together to the kirk With a goodly company!— To walk together to the kirk, 605 And all together pray, While each to his great Father bends, Old men, and babes, and loving friends, And youths and maidens gay! Farewell, farewell! but this I tell 610 To thee, thou Wedding-Guest! He prayeth well, who loveth well Both man and bird and beast. He prayeth best, who loveth best All things both great and small; 615 For the dear God who loveth us He made and loveth all. The Mariner, whose eye is bright, Whose beard with age is hoar, Is gone: and now the Wedding-Guest 620 Turned from the bridegroom’s door. He went like one that hath been stunned, And is of sense forlorn: A sadder and a wiser man, He rose the morrow morn. 625

Introduction

Samuel Taylor Coleridge’s “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner,” first published in 1798 as part of Lyrical Ballads, represents a pivotal moment in Romantic poetry, emphasizing the power of the imagination, the natural world, and the supernatural. The poem is composed in a ballad form, utilizing a mix of quatrains and varied rhyme schemes, which evokes the traditional folk ballad while allowing for lyrical and narrative flexibility. The poem’s composition was influenced by Coleridge’s fascination with Gothic literature, medieval romance, and Christian theology, as well as by his collaboration with William Wordsworth, who provided feedback that shaped its final form.

“Rime” draws on a variety of literary and cultural influences, including the medieval and Renaissance traditions of sea voyages and the Gothic fascination with the supernatural. The poem also alludes to biblical themes, particularly those related to sin, punishment, and redemption. The Mariner’s killing of the albatross, a bird associated with good luck, serves as a central symbol of the violation of nature and the subsequent need for atonement. This act initiates the Mariner’s long and arduous journey, marked by isolation and suffering, which parallels the Christian concept of penance.

The poem’s major themes include the interconnectedness of all living things, the consequences of violating nature, and the possibility of redemption through suffering and self-awareness. The Mariner’s journey is both physical and spiritual, as he moves from ignorance and recklessness to an understanding of the sanctity of all life. Coleridge explores the theme of the natural world as a reflection of divine presence, as seen when the Mariner comes to appreciate the beauty of the sea creatures he once despised: “He prayeth best, who loveth best / All things both great and small” (ll. 614–615). This realization marks a turning point in the poem, leading to the Mariner’s partial redemption.

Coleridge’s use of language in the poem is notable for its vivid imagery, archaic diction, and symbolic metaphors. The “silent sea” and the “painted ship” create a sense of eerie stillness and unnaturalness, while the recurring image of the albatross as a burden tied around the Mariner’s neck symbolizes the weight of his guilt. The poem also makes extensive use of alliteration and internal rhyme, enhancing its musical quality and its resonance as a tale meant to be recited aloud.

Innovatively, Coleridge incorporates marginal glosses in later versions of the poem, providing a commentary that adds layers of meaning and guides the reader’s interpretation. This technique also reflects the Romantic interest in exploring the relationship between text and reader, and in blurring the boundaries between reality and imagination.

“Rime” exemplifies the Romantic movement’s focus on emotion, the sublime, and the individual’s relationship with nature. The poem’s exploration of the supernatural and its emphasis on the power of storytelling reflect the Romantic belief in the imagination’s ability to transcend the ordinary and reveal deeper truths.

The poem remains relevant for its exploration of environmental themes and the consequences of humanity’s actions on the natural world. The Mariner’s tale can be seen as a cautionary narrative, warning of the dangers of disrupting the balance between humans and nature, a theme that resonates in modern discussions of ecological responsibility. Coleridge’s emphasis on redemption and the power of narrative also continues to influence modern literary interpretations and adaptations of the poem.

Questions for Consideration

1. What motivates the Mariner to stop one of the wedding guests and tell him his tale? How does the interaction between the Mariner and the wedding guest frame the narrative?
2. Why does the Mariner kill the albatross? How does this action set the course for the rest of the poem? What are the immediate and long-term consequences of this act?
3. Discuss the significance of the albatross as a symbol in the poem. How does its meaning evolve from the beginning to the end of the poem?
4. What role does the theme of penance play in the Mariner’s journey? How is this theme expressed through the Mariner’s experiences and reflections?
5. How does Coleridge explore the theme of the natural world in the poem? What is the relationship between humanity and nature, as depicted in the Mariner’s tale?
6. Examine Coleridge’s use of imagery in the poem. How do the descriptions of the sea, the ship, and the supernatural elements contribute to the poem’s atmosphere?
7. How does Coleridge’s use of archaic language affect the tone and style of the poem? What impact does this choice have on the reader’s experience of the narrative?
8. Analyze the use of repetition and rhyme in the poem. How do these devices enhance the poem’s musicality and its oral storytelling tradition?
9. How does the ballad form influence the structure and pacing of the poem? In what ways does Coleridge adhere to or deviate from traditional ballad conventions?
10. Discuss the purpose and effect of the marginal glosses added by Coleridge in later versions of the poem. How do they shape the reader’s interpretation of the text?
11. To what extent can the Mariner’s tale be viewed as a moral or cautionary story? What lessons does the Mariner learn, and how are these lessons communicated to the reader?
12. How does the poem reflect Romantic ideas about the sublime, imagination, and the supernatural? Consider how these elements contribute to the overall message and impact of the poem.
13. In what ways does the poem explore the concept of isolation, both physical and psychological? How does the Mariner’s isolation affect his character and his journey toward redemption?
14. How can the Mariner’s experience be interpreted in terms of Christian themes of sin, suffering, and redemption? How do these themes resonate with broader Romantic ideas about spirituality and the human condition?
15. How might “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” be relevant to modern discussions about environmental issues? What parallels can be drawn between the Mariner’s actions and contemporary concerns about the relationship between humanity and nature?
16. What is the significance of storytelling in the poem? How does the act of telling the tale affect both the Mariner and the wedding guest? What might this suggest about the power of narrative in shaping human experience?

Commentary

Notes and References

Bibliography

• Bloom, Harold (2011). "Introduction". In Bloom, Harold. The Romantic Poets. Bloom’s Modern Critical Views. New York: Bloom’s Literary Criticism.
• — (2001). Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Bloom’s Major Poets. New York: Chelsea House.
• Empson, William (2010) [1993]. "The Ancient Mariner: An Answer to Warren". In Bloom, Harold. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Bloom’s Modern Critical Views (New ed.). New York: Infobase Publishing. pp. 71–97.
• Greenblatt, Stephen, ed. (2018). The Norton Anthology of English Literature. The Major Authors. 2 (Tenth ed.). New York: W. W. Norton.
• Parker, James (May 13, 2020). "The 1798 Poem That Was Made for 2020". The Atlantic. Books. Retrieved 2021-08-20.
• Perry, Seamus (2010) [1999]. "Coda: The Incomprehensible Mariner". In Bloom, Harold. Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Bloom’s Modern Critical Views (New ed.). New York: Infobase Publishing. pp. 147–156.
• Rumens, Carol (October 26, 2009). "Poem of the week: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge". The Guardian. Books Blog. Retrieved 2021-08-20.
• Whalley, George (1947). "The Mariner and the Albatross". University of Toronto Quarterly. 16 (4): 381–398. Retrieved 2021-08-21.

Web

• "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner". Big Read. The Arts Institute, University of Plymouth. April 18, 2020. Retrieved 2021-08-22.