feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/The Rime of the Ancient Mariner/section_3_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.part 4
feat_summary_id: part 4
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 4", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210422155712/https://www.gradesaver.com/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner/study-guide/summary-part-4", "summary": "The Wedding Guest proclaims that he fears the Ancient Mariner because he is unnaturally skinny, so tanned and wrinkled that he resembles the sand, and possesses a \"glittering eye.\" The Ancient Mariner assures him that he has not returned from the dead; he is the only sailor who did not die on his ship, but rather drifted in lonely, scorching agony. His only living company was the plethora of \"slimy\" creatures in the ocean. He tried to pray, but could produce only a muffled curse. For seven days and nights the Ancient Mariner remained alone on the ship. The dead sailors, who miraculously did not rot, continued to curse him with their open eyes. Only the sight of beautiful water snakes frolicking beside the boat lifted the Ancient Mariner's spirits. They cheered him so much that he blessed them \"unawares\"; finally, he was able to pray. At that very moment, the Albatross fell off his neck and sank heavily into the ocean.", "analysis": "As the Ancient Mariner drifts on the ocean, the natural world becomes more threatening. His surroundings - the ship, the ocean, and the creatures within it - are \"rotting\" in the heat and sun, but he is the one who is rotten on the inside. Meanwhile the sailors' corpses refuse to rot, and their open eyes curse him continuously, giving the Ancient Mariner a visible manifestation of the living death that awaits him. He will age, but his body will never rot enough to release his soul; his eye will glitter forever with the horror of damnation. As the Ancient Mariner floats, he becomes delirious, unable to escape his overwhelming loneliness even by sleeping: \"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 / Lay like a load on my weary eye...\" His depravity has even denied him the comfort of prayer. Ironically, it is the \"slimy\", \"rotten\" creatures themselves that finally comfort the Ancient Mariner and allow him to pray. Until this moment, Coleridge's imagery has underscored the overbearing nature of the Ancient Mariner's environment: it is hot, salty, pungent, and \"rotten.\" However, his surroundings - and the imagery that accompanies them - turn cool in the moonlight. Coleridge compares the moonlight to a gentle frost, connecting it to the serenity of the \"rime\": \" beams bemocked the sultry main, / Like April hoar-frost spread.\" Aglow in the moonlight, the sea creatures begin frolicking, rather than churning nastily; creatures of a beautiful, supernatural world, they \"moved in tracks of shining white, / And when they reared, the elfish light / Fell off in hoary flakes...I watched their rich attire; / Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, / They coiled and swam; and every track / Was a flash of golden fire.\" Whereas Coleridge's descriptions of the ghost ship, sun, and sailors are replete with spare, harsh imagery, he describes the water-snakes in decadent, lush terms. Only when the Ancient Mariner is able to appreciate the beauty of the natural world is he granted the ability to pray - and, it is implied, eventually redeem himself. Earlier in the work, the desiccated setting represented the Ancient Mariner's moral drought, but the moment he begins to view the natural world benevolently, his spiritual thirst is quenched: \"A spring of love gushed from my heart.\" As a sign that his burden has been lifted, the Albatross - the burden of sin - falls from his neck: it is no longer his cross to bear."}
text: PART THE FOURTH.
  
       "I fear thee, ancient Mariner!
       I fear thy skinny hand!
       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!
       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.
  
       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,
       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,
       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
       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
       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!
       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,
       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
       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
       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
       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:
       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
       Like lead into the sea.
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 4
target: The Wedding Guest proclaims that he fears the Ancient Mariner because he is unnaturally skinny, so tanned and wrinkled that he resembles the sand, and possesses a "glittering eye." The Ancient Mariner assures him that he has not returned from the dead; he is the only sailor who did not die on his ship, but rather drifted in lonely, scorching agony. His only living company was the plethora of "slimy" creatures in the ocean. He tried to pray, but could produce only a muffled curse. For seven days and nights the Ancient Mariner remained alone on the ship. The dead sailors, who miraculously did not rot, continued to curse him with their open eyes. Only the sight of beautiful water snakes frolicking beside the boat lifted the Ancient Mariner's spirits. They cheered him so much that he blessed them "unawares"; finally, he was able to pray. At that very moment, the Albatross fell off his neck and sank heavily into the ocean.
feat_summary_analysis: As the Ancient Mariner drifts on the ocean, the natural world becomes more threatening. His surroundings - the ship, the ocean, and the creatures within it - are "rotting" in the heat and sun, but he is the one who is rotten on the inside. Meanwhile the sailors' corpses refuse to rot, and their open eyes curse him continuously, giving the Ancient Mariner a visible manifestation of the living death that awaits him. He will age, but his body will never rot enough to release his soul; his eye will glitter forever with the horror of damnation. As the Ancient Mariner floats, he becomes delirious, unable to escape his overwhelming loneliness even by sleeping: "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 / Lay like a load on my weary eye..." His depravity has even denied him the comfort of prayer. Ironically, it is the "slimy", "rotten" creatures themselves that finally comfort the Ancient Mariner and allow him to pray. Until this moment, Coleridge's imagery has underscored the overbearing nature of the Ancient Mariner's environment: it is hot, salty, pungent, and "rotten." However, his surroundings - and the imagery that accompanies them - turn cool in the moonlight. Coleridge compares the moonlight to a gentle frost, connecting it to the serenity of the "rime": " beams bemocked the sultry main, / Like April hoar-frost spread." Aglow in the moonlight, the sea creatures begin frolicking, rather than churning nastily; creatures of a beautiful, supernatural world, they "moved in tracks of shining white, / And when they reared, the elfish light / Fell off in hoary flakes...I watched their rich attire; / Blue, glossy green, and velvet black, / They coiled and swam; and every track / Was a flash of golden fire." Whereas Coleridge's descriptions of the ghost ship, sun, and sailors are replete with spare, harsh imagery, he describes the water-snakes in decadent, lush terms. Only when the Ancient Mariner is able to appreciate the beauty of the natural world is he granted the ability to pray - and, it is implied, eventually redeem himself. Earlier in the work, the desiccated setting represented the Ancient Mariner's moral drought, but the moment he begins to view the natural world benevolently, his spiritual thirst is quenched: "A spring of love gushed from my heart." As a sign that his burden has been lifted, the Albatross - the burden of sin - falls from his neck: it is no longer his cross to bear.