The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

“Listen, Stranger! Mist and Snow, / And it grew wond’rous cauld: / And Ice mast-high came floating by / As green as Emerauld.” 

This stanza highlights how nature can be both beautiful and terrible at the same time. It is also highlighting the pointlessness of man (the mundane) trying to exert power over nature (the sublime). 

“At length did cross an Albatross, / Thorough the Fog it came; / And an it were a Christian soul, / We hail’d it in God's name.”

“The Marineres gave it biscuit-worms,/ And round and round it flew: / The Ice did split with a Thunder-fit; / The helmsman steer’d us thro’” 

When the albatross materializes through the fog, it appears to be a miraculous occurrence: both natural and divine. The crew feed and play with the bird, believing it to be a good omen. The Sailors appreciate the bird, and the natural world seems to reward them for their recognition, as the ice splits and allows the ship to continue its journey.

“God save thee, ancyent Marinere! / From the fiends that plague thee thus - / Why look'st thou so?”

The Mariner has just introduced the albatross, which flies around and follows the ship. The Wedding Guest then interrupts the story since the Mariner’s face apparently contains some sort of agony. Coleridge here gives us the Wedding Guest’s reaction to the Mariner’s face in order to convey how plagued he is by what information will follow, adding to the building sense of tension and anticipation.

“With my cross bow / I shot the Albatross.” 

The Mariner goes on with his story and reveals his sinful act: the killing of the albatross, which sets in motion a series of horrifying experiences. He does not give a reason for what he did but the killing can be seen as an effort to assert human mastery over nature or, killing the bird is an attempt to assert the mundane and civilized over what is naturally sublime, a rejection of the Romantic ideal and a denial of what is majestic in nature. 

“And I had done an hellish thing / And it would work 'em woe: / For all averr’d, I had kill’d the Bird / That made the Breeze to blow.” 

The Mariner is stunned by what he has done; by his use of the word “hellish,” he is aware that what he has done is a sin. The crew believes that the Mariner was wrong in killing the albatross, the good omen that had brought wind and driven the ship forward. They fear that they will suffer for what the Mariner has done. 

“‘Twas right, said they, such birds to slay / That bring the fog and mist.” 

Another seafaring superstition that says an albatross can actually be a bad omen, rather than a good omen. When nothing seems to change following the death of the bird, the sailors have a change of heart, and say that the Mariner was right to “slay” the Albatross. Here, we see the group believing in the individual over nature/the theological. 

“Day after day, day after day, / We stuck, ne breath ne motion, / As idle as a painted Ship / Upon a painted Ocean.” 

“Water, water, every where / And all the boards did shrink; / Water, water, every where, / Ne any drop to drink.” 

The ship remains stuck in the water as if it were in a painting. The second quatrain excerpted here plays with the irony of the situation, and also contains one of Coleridge’s most famous (and often misquoted) lines. They are surrounded by water, but since it is seawater, they cannot drink it. This predicament is part of the Mariner’s penance, which is influenced by the supernatural, but it also exhibits some of the sublime terror and beauty of the natural world. The sea is at once compared to a painting and a means of torture and death. Thus, while the Mariner doesn’t yet take the correct approach, Coleridge describes the scene from firmly within the Romantic mindset.

“Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks / Had I from old and young; / Instead of the Cross the Albatross / About my neck was hung.” 

Dying of thirst, the sailors have turned against the Mariner. They place the full blame of their predicament on his killing of the albatross. They are unable to speak, due to their thirst, so they curse the Mariner with their eyes and then hang the albatross around his neck, to mark him as a sinner. 

“With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d / Ne could we laugh, ne wail: / Then while thro’ drouth all dumb they stood / I bit my arm and suck’d the blood / And cry’d, A sail! a sail!”

The ship remains stuck on the ocean and the sailors and the Mariner are so thirsty that they are still unable to speak. The Mariner notices something approaching their ship, and in a moment of hope realizes that it’s another ship. Unable to communicate what he has seen, the Mariner bites his arm and drinks his own blood, wetting his mouth enough that he can speak. The consumption of blood can be seen as vampiric and foreshadowing, as the sailors, for a brief time, return from the dead and are effectively undead, like a vampire. This can also be applied to the Mariner himself, who remains in a largely undead, immortal state for the rest of time. The undead are out of step with the natural course of nature, just as the Mariner is. This passage also lends credence to some scholars’ ideas that the poem is as Gothic as it is Romantic, in regard to literary movement. 

“One after one by the horned Moon / (Listen, O Stranger! to me) / Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang / And curs’d me with his ee.”

“Four times fifty living men, / With never a sigh or groan, / With heavy thump, a lifeless lump / They dropp’d down one by one.” 

The ghost ship has pulled up alongside the Mariner’s ship. It is manned by Death and Life-in-Death, who have been gambling for the souls of the Mariner and the sailors. Life-in-Death wins the Mariner, implying that the sailors are won by Death. So, the Mariner is to face punishment of a living death. Unable to speak, the sailors curse him with their eyes before they fall to the deck of the ship. The sailors, having seen the sin in the act of killing the albatross are returned to the natural course of the world (living, then dying), while the Mariner remains of out of step with the natural world. 

“The many men so beautiful, / And they all dead did lie! / And a million million slimy things / Liv’d on - and so did I.” 

The Mariner is feeling guilt over what he has done and what the consequences of his actions have meant for his crew. He can only see the sea serpents as “slimy” disgusting things that are undeserving of life and compares himself to them. Later, the Mariner will see the slimy creatures as sea snakes, once he realizes the wrongs inherent in his action of killing the albatross. 

“An orphan's curse would drag to Hell / A spirit from on high: / But O! more horrible than that / Is the curse in a dead man's eye! / Seven days, seven nights I saw that curse, And yet I could not die.” 

The Mariner’s punishment leaves him alone on the ship, with only the dead-eyed stare of the 200 sailors for company. To emphasize the horror of being left alone with his dead crew, the Mariner calls to mind an “orphan’s curse,” which would supposedly have the terrible effect of dragging even a spirit from on high down to hell. The communicative power of the eye does not cease even in death, existing as an echo of life within death. Despite being surrounded by death, the Mariner is unable to die himself, trapped in a living death.

“The moving Moon went up the sky / And no where did abide: / Softly she was going up / And a star or two beside.” 

The moon has been a symbol of peace throughout the poem and it appears when the Mariner is at rest from penance. The imagery in this stanza highlights the differences between the moon and sun, as the moon guides the Mariner home. 

“Within the shadow of the ship / I watch’d their rich attire: / Blue, glossy green, and velvet black / They coil’d and swam; and every track / Was a flash of golden fire.” 

The Mariner has suddenly recognized the beauty of the sea serpents. No longer are they “slimy things” but are God’s creatures—just as he and the sailors are. This awakening means the Mariner is now accepting of the sublime and the relationship between God and all living things.

“O happy living things! no tongue / Their beauty might declare: / A spring of love gusht from my heart, / And I bless’d them unaware! / Sure my kind saint took pity on me, / And I bless’d them unaware.” 

On awakening to the beauty of the sea serpents, the Mariner comes to the central spiritual realization of the poem. He exclaims with happiness that these are joyful, beautiful creatures, and he becomes possessed with love and a desire to bless them. He has come to appreciate nature in a Romantic and spiritual mindset, the key lesson he ultimately hopes to impart (as opposed to his earlier hatred of the “slimy creatures” living in the water around the ship).

“The self-same moment I could pray; / And from my neck so free / The Albatross fell off, and sank / Like lead into the sea.” 

On this spiritual realization, the Mariner is able to pray again. By accepting the sublime, and truly appreciating and respecting nature, he has taken a step towards absolution. The physical expression of his sin, the albatross, falls from his neck and into the sea. The figurative math of these actions is worth noting: the human praying=the return of the natural to God.

1.    “‘Is it he?' quoth one, 'Is this the man? / By him who died on cross, / With his cruel bow he lay’d full low / The harmless Albatross.”

[…]

“The other was a softer voice, / As soft as honey-dew: / Quoth he the man hath penance done, / And penance more will do.’” 

Whilst on the equator, the ship lurches forward and the Mariner falls into a faint. As he lies there, he hears the First Voice and Second Voice discussing who he is and what he has done. Despite the Mariner believing he had earned his forgiveness, one of the Voices says explicitly that there will be further penance in the future. This line proves to be true and the poem ultimately implies that the Mariner’s penance is never-ending and he is never completely absolved of his act of asserting himself against the natural world.

“This seraph-band, each wav’d his hand: / It was a heavenly sight: / They stood as signals to the land, / Each one a lovely light:”

“This seraph-band, each wav’d his hand, / No voice did they impart – / No voice; but O! the silence sank, / Like music on my heart.” 

After a trip homeward, the sun rises and the angels leave the sailors’ bodies. Rather than singing, as they have done before, the seraphs simply wave at the Mariner. This display is essentially silent, which, the Mariner suggests, carries its own type of divine music. Furthermore, the lines themselves are musical, as each stanza begins with the same first line and contains strong rhymes and perfected rhythm and meter. Here, the Mariner is so connected with nature and the sublime that he is able to have a direct spiritual experience, without the presence of the lenses that he requires in many other moments.

“It is the Hermit good! / He singeth loud his godly hymns / That he makes in the wood. / He’ll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away / The Albatross's blood.” 

As the Pilot, his boy, and the Hermit approach the Mariner’s ship, it begins to sink. The Mariner focuses on the Hermit, whom the Mariner believes to be a man of God. The Mariner sees the Hermit as a means of achieving full absolution. “Shrieve" means take confession, apply penance, and absolve. 

“Since then at an uncertain hour, / Now of times and now fewer, / That anguish comes and makes me tell / My ghastly adventure.” 

The form of the Mariner’s penance is that he feels an intense pain when he is to tell his tale once more. The agony he feels tells him that it’s time to share what’s happened to him. If he does not tell his tale, then the physical pain will continue. It is this that drives him around the world, telling his story. This physical pain also reasserts the power of the natural world over the individual; while in many ways more or different than the average human, the Mariner still feels pain, as any human or animal can. 

“I pass, like night, from land to land; / I have strange power of speech; / The moment that his face I see /I know the man that must hear me; / To him my tale I teach.” 

Here, the Mariner explains the perpetual state of penance he now occupies: he wanders eternally, intermittently succumbing to the agony within him that forces him to tell his story. He travels from land to land and employs his “strange power of speech,” which seems to be granted to him by the journey and for the purpose of sharing his lesson. He also demonstrates another way that eyes communicate here: he knows to whom he must tell his story by seeing faces. We can note that storytelling here is figured explicitly as teaching. This power of speech allows the Mariner to hold audiences captive and impart change in their lives.

“He prayeth well who loveth well / Both man and bird and beast.”

“He prayeth best who loveth best, / All things both great and small: / For the dear God, who loveth us, / He made and loveth all.” 

These are the final lines in the Mariner’s tale. They contain the lesson that the Mariner hopes that he has imparted to the Wedding Guest: that all of God’s creations are deserving of respect and appreciation, and by treating them so, that is the best way to communicate with God. 

“The Marinere, whose eye is bright, / Whose beard with age is hoar, / Is gone; and now the wedding-guest / Turn’d from the bridegroom's door.” 

Despite his very old age, the Mariner still has bright eyes. This is indicative of his ceaseless urge to communicate and tell his story. We can also note that the Wedding Guest turns away from the wedding, rather than continuing on to it (as he so fervently wanted to at the start of the poem). This subtle change in his decision and path of the day represents a shift in the journey in his life.