III With bleeding wounds; forgive me, that I cherished 70 ̈And what,” I said, "though Blasphemy's One thought that ever blessed your cruel loud scream The dissonance ceased, and all seemed calm and bright; 50 When France her front deep-scarred and gory Concealed with clustering wreaths of glory; When, insupportably advancing, Her arm made mockery of the warrior's ramp; While timid looks of fury glancing, 55 Domestic treason, crushed beneath her fatal stamp, Writhed like a wounded dragon in his gore; Then I reproached my fears that would not flee; "And soon," I said, "shall Wisdom teach her lore In the low huts of them that toil and groan; 60 And, conquering by her happiness alone, Shall France compel the nations to be free, Till Love and Joy look round, and call the earth their own." IV foes! Forgive me, Freedom! Oh forgive those Alike from Priestcraft's harpy minions, 95 dreams! And factious Blasphemy's obscener slaves, Thou speedest on thy subtle pinions, The guide of homeless winds, and play mate of the waves! And there I felt thee!-on that sea-cliff's verge, Whose pines, scarce travelled by the Yes, while I stood and gazed, my temples | And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean: bare, And shot my being through earth, sea, and Possessing all things with intensest love, And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far Ancestral voices prophesying war! 30 The shadow of the dome of pleasure "By thy long gray beard and glittering eye, Now wherefore stopp'st thou me? 5 "The Bridegroom's doors feast is set: a wedding-feast, and detaineth one. The Wedding And thus spake on that ancient man, Eftsoons his hand dropt he. The bright-eyed Mariner: Guest is spell He holds him with his bound by the eye of the old seafaring and Con man, strained to hear his tale. The Mariner tells how the ship sailed southward with a good wind and fair weather till it reached the Line. The Wedding Guest heareth the bridal music; but the Mariner con tinueth his tale. "It ate the food it ne'er For all averred, I had had eat, flew. The ice did split with a "God save thee, ancient killeth the pious From the fiends, that plague bird of good omen. His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner for thee thus! 80 killing the bird of And it would work 'em good luck. woe; blow. Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay 95 That made the breeze to blow! "Nor dim nor red, like The glorious sun uprist: Then all averred, I had plices in the crime. killed the bird That brought the fog and 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist. |