feat_summary_path: finished_summaries/gradesaver/The Rime of the Ancient Mariner/section_5_part_0.txt
feat_book_id: The Rime of the Ancient Mariner.part 6
feat_summary_id: part 6
feat_summary: {"name": "Part 6", "url": "https://web.archive.org/web/20210422155712/https://www.gradesaver.com/the-rime-of-the-ancient-mariner/study-guide/summary-part-6", "summary": "Part 6 opens with a dialogue between the two voices: the first voice, the Ancient Mariner says, asked the second voice to remind it what moved the Ancient Mariner's ship along so fast, and the second voice postulated that the moon must be controlling the ocean. The first voice asked again what could be driving the ship, and the second voice replied that the air was pushing the ship from behind in lieu of wind. After this declaration, the voices disappeared. The Ancient Mariner awoke at night to find the dead sailors clustered on the deck, again cursing him with their eyes. They mesmerized him, until suddenly the spell broke and they too disappeared. The Ancient Mariner, however, was not relieved; he knew that the dead men would come back to haunt him over and over again. Just then, a wind began to blow and the ship sailed quickly and smoothly until the Ancient Mariner could see the shore of his own country. As moonlight illuminated the glassy harbor, lighthouse, and church he sobbed and prayed, happy to be either alive or in heaven. Suddenly, crimson shapes began to rise from the water in front of the ship. When the Ancient Mariner looked down at the deck, he saw an angel standing over each dead man's corpse. The angels waved their hands silently, serving as beacons to guide the ship into port. The Ancient Mariner heard voices: a Pilot, the Pilot's boy, and a Hermit were approaching the ship in a boat. The Ancient Mariner was overjoyed to see other living human beings and wanted the Hermit to wipe him clean of his sin, to \"wash away the Albatross's blood.\"", "analysis": "In Part 6, the two voices offer a narrative and stylistic break in the poem. Whereas before the text was unbroken, their speech is structured much as in the script of a play. The voices are also omniscient in that they know everything that has happened up until now, and are able to offer the Ancient Mariner a more complete explanation of his situation. The manner in which the voices are presented lends a didactic, narratorial feel to their words. The voices leave because, like the Wedding Guest, they have somewhere to be; the second voice urges the first: \"Fly, brother, fly! More high, more high! / Or we shall be belated.\" Yet unlike the Wedding Guest, the voices are not riveted by the Ancient Mariner's tale and can continue on to their destination after briefly stopping to consider him. They are like the two other guests walking with the Wedding Guest when the Ancient Mariner stops him; while his tale may interest them, they are not compelled to hear it. When the Ancient Mariner is out in the open ocean, Coleridge's imagery is heavily visual and tactile, but also focuses on sound: the noises of the wedding merriment interrupt the Ancient Mariner's tale, \"voices in a swound\" fill the \"rime\", there is a terrible silence that abounds when the men are unable to speak, and the glorious music created by the ship and the sailors implies that fortune has once again smiled on the Ancient Mariner. Indeed, in Part 6 sounds are especially important. We know of the two voices only because they speak; they have no visible presence. If they are indeed spirits, then they are discernable to humans only because of the sounds that they make. Furthermore, the Ancient Mariner hears his rescuers before he sees them, although he does not cry out to them. Coleridge's focus on sound connects us to the fact that the Ancient Mariner is telling a story to the Wedding Guest. While readers must view the story on the page, the tale is being told aloud, and is meant to be passed on in this manner, much like a sermon. As the ship enters the harbor, we once again get the sense that the Ancient Mariner will be redeemed, although we know that he is doomed to be haunted by the dead men indefinitely: The ship is now in the safety of the harbor, and home is in sight; two hundred angels, one for each dead man, silently guide the ship into shore, acting as beacons that attract the Ancient Mariner's rescuers.  Not only are the Pilot and Pilot's Boy coming to rescue the Ancient Mariner, but a Hermit has come out of the woods to help them. By definition, a hermit is someone who lives in seclusion in a natural setting, making the natural world his shrine and living place. He does not venture out into society, and certainly not on the ocean. The Hermit that the Ancient Mariner meets is joyous and social, urging the Pilot and Pilot's Boy on even though they are afraid of the tattered ship. Although at the end of Part 6 the Ancient Mariner knows that he will soon be home and believes that the Hermit can absolve him of his sin, the reader can't help but suspect that more horror is in store."}
text: PART THE SIXTH.
  
  
       FIRST VOICE.
  
       But tell me, tell me! speak again,
       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;
       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
       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.
  
       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
       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:
       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,
       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--
  
       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
       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.
  
       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,
       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?
       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!
       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.
  
       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,
       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:
       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,
       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:
  
       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;
       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:
       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
       That he makes in the wood.
       He'll shrieve my soul, he'll wash away
       The Albatross's blood.
  
  
  
  
  
  
feat_summary_name: Part 6
target: Part 6 opens with a dialogue between the two voices: the first voice, the Ancient Mariner says, asked the second voice to remind it what moved the Ancient Mariner's ship along so fast, and the second voice postulated that the moon must be controlling the ocean. The first voice asked again what could be driving the ship, and the second voice replied that the air was pushing the ship from behind in lieu of wind. After this declaration, the voices disappeared. The Ancient Mariner awoke at night to find the dead sailors clustered on the deck, again cursing him with their eyes. They mesmerized him, until suddenly the spell broke and they too disappeared. The Ancient Mariner, however, was not relieved; he knew that the dead men would come back to haunt him over and over again. Just then, a wind began to blow and the ship sailed quickly and smoothly until the Ancient Mariner could see the shore of his own country. As moonlight illuminated the glassy harbor, lighthouse, and church he sobbed and prayed, happy to be either alive or in heaven. Suddenly, crimson shapes began to rise from the water in front of the ship. When the Ancient Mariner looked down at the deck, he saw an angel standing over each dead man's corpse. The angels waved their hands silently, serving as beacons to guide the ship into port. The Ancient Mariner heard voices: a Pilot, the Pilot's boy, and a Hermit were approaching the ship in a boat. The Ancient Mariner was overjoyed to see other living human beings and wanted the Hermit to wipe him clean of his sin, to "wash away the Albatross's blood."
feat_summary_analysis: In Part 6, the two voices offer a narrative and stylistic break in the poem. Whereas before the text was unbroken, their speech is structured much as in the script of a play. The voices are also omniscient in that they know everything that has happened up until now, and are able to offer the Ancient Mariner a more complete explanation of his situation. The manner in which the voices are presented lends a didactic, narratorial feel to their words. The voices leave because, like the Wedding Guest, they have somewhere to be; the second voice urges the first: "Fly, brother, fly! More high, more high! / Or we shall be belated." Yet unlike the Wedding Guest, the voices are not riveted by the Ancient Mariner's tale and can continue on to their destination after briefly stopping to consider him. They are like the two other guests walking with the Wedding Guest when the Ancient Mariner stops him; while his tale may interest them, they are not compelled to hear it. When the Ancient Mariner is out in the open ocean, Coleridge's imagery is heavily visual and tactile, but also focuses on sound: the noises of the wedding merriment interrupt the Ancient Mariner's tale, "voices in a swound" fill the "rime", there is a terrible silence that abounds when the men are unable to speak, and the glorious music created by the ship and the sailors implies that fortune has once again smiled on the Ancient Mariner. Indeed, in Part 6 sounds are especially important. We know of the two voices only because they speak; they have no visible presence. If they are indeed spirits, then they are discernable to humans only because of the sounds that they make. Furthermore, the Ancient Mariner hears his rescuers before he sees them, although he does not cry out to them. Coleridge's focus on sound connects us to the fact that the Ancient Mariner is telling a story to the Wedding Guest. While readers must view the story on the page, the tale is being told aloud, and is meant to be passed on in this manner, much like a sermon. As the ship enters the harbor, we once again get the sense that the Ancient Mariner will be redeemed, although we know that he is doomed to be haunted by the dead men indefinitely: The ship is now in the safety of the harbor, and home is in sight; two hundred angels, one for each dead man, silently guide the ship into shore, acting as beacons that attract the Ancient Mariner's rescuers.  Not only are the Pilot and Pilot's Boy coming to rescue the Ancient Mariner, but a Hermit has come out of the woods to help them. By definition, a hermit is someone who lives in seclusion in a natural setting, making the natural world his shrine and living place. He does not venture out into society, and certainly not on the ocean. The Hermit that the Ancient Mariner meets is joyous and social, urging the Pilot and Pilot's Boy on even though they are afraid of the tattered ship. Although at the end of Part 6 the Ancient Mariner knows that he will soon be home and believes that the Hermit can absolve him of his sin, the reader can't help but suspect that more horror is in store.