kkokkolis

Αστρονομικά Όργανα, Copperleaf Studios, 2010

Ουράνια Σφαίρα, Copperleaf Studios, 2010

This too shall pass, psnt.net (positive science | negative theology), Paul Wallace, Jun 07 2010 During my last few years as an astronomy professor, I started off the first day by walking to the front of the class and writing the following on the board: ASTRONOMY IS A WASTE OF TIME. I then ask: Why might this be true? The idea is to short-circuit some of their inevitable concerns up front, to adjust their expectations, and to motivate them. Once they see that I’m serious the students relax a little and the conversation begins to flow. A common answer is: Astronomy is useless. This is true. Not that it is not wholly without use; our understanding of the Sun’s workings and of the orbits of near-Earth asteroids may one day be most helpful. Astronomy was once very useful for navigation, hence trade. Also for calendry and for certain religious purposes like setting the date for Easter. Routine uses of astronomy today tend to be highly specialized and have to do largely with ultra-precise reckoning of time. So it has its utility. But only a fraction of astronomy is concerned with the Sun or the orbital dynamics of bodies housed within the inner Solar System, and even within that fence much is clearly impractical. Astronomical science is almost wholly occupied with stuff that has no pragmatic bearing whatsoever: Saturn’s auroras, galactic evolution, quasars, cosmology. Arguments like No one foresaw the uses of the laser are familiar. And it is true that we cannot know now what we will need to know in the future. But if one were to order the sciences using any conceivable measure of usefulness, astronomy would come in at the bottom with plenty of daylight between it and the rest of the pack. There have been other predictable answers, such as: Astronomy is expensive. This is also true. American astronomy is funded through two pipes: NASA and the NSF. For a good time, browse the 2011 NASA Science Mission Directorate and 2010 NSF astronomy budgets. You’ll get the idea. These two answers were expected. But there was another popular answer that I was wholly unprepared for: Astronomy is depressing. Usually what the student had in mind is that we’re small compared to the cosmos. This is true. To say that the Earth is a drop in the ocean of space is so frantically understated as to be laughable. We would need to compare a single drop of water to 10^30 Pacific Oceans to get a decent comparison. (The number 10^30 is the same as the number 1 followed by 30 zeros.) And this takes into account only the visible universe. We have good reasons to suspect that there’s much more of it that we can’t see, that we will never be able to see. What students are generally less aware of is that things appear to be winding down. The Sun is not immortal. It will die in a few billion years, and when it does the Earth will be cooked, its life extinguished and its oceans vaporized. Who knows where we will be by then. It seems unlikely that we will make it that far, because we have a lot more to cope with than ourselves and our toxic combination of violent tendencies and nightmarish weapons. Catastrophic meteorite impacts await us in the next million years, to say nothing of the next billion. Also dramatic climate changes. If we make it through and leave the Solar System behind before the Sun’s final gasp, we will no longer appear human by today’s standard. The pressures of evolution and biotechnology will see to that. But even if we make it we won’t make it, because the universe itself is dying. Currently astronomers think it’s headed for the ultimate freezeout. In this scenario the entire cosmos will continue in its current expansion into an infinite future, its ambient temperature on a one-way descent toward absolute zero, its dynamism lost in a total washout of physical structure. There are other possibilities, but all of them lead to a single conclusion: Humanity will not prevail against nature. Thus I concede, at least partially. Astronomy can be depressing. But you know what? It’s just a reminder of what everyone already knows but doesn’t want to know: This too shall pass. This fact of life occurred to me first when I was about twelve. Carl Sagan‘s Cosmos had just been published and Dad had a copy. In it was a series of four paintings of a single locale. The first one was edenic: A bright array of living things grew alongside an expanse of incandescent blue water. The scene was lit by a perfectly yellow sun. As the series progressed the sun became orange and bloated enormously. Life disappeared and the ocean with it. In the end the blooming prospect was reduced to a wasteland ruled over by a hideous red orb. Here is the caption. I read it over and over. The death of the Earth and Sun. Several billion years from now, there will be a last perfect day. Then, over a period of millions of years, the Sun will swell, the Earth will heat, many lifeforms will be extinguished, and the shoreline will retreat. The oceans will rapidly evaporate and the atmosphere will escape to space. As the Sun evolves toward a red giant, the Earth will become dry, barren, and airless. Eventually the Sun will fill most of the sky, and may engulf the Earth. Clearly death awaited the world. A last perfect day. The words alarmed me. But I also felt the pull of a strange curiosity. Billions of years. No one I knew would be alive. But I looked around and tried to set the particulars of my environment into relation with the coming apocalypse. Even then the interstate freeways around Atlanta were crowded with cars, and I wondered when and under what circumstances those roads would be emptied. At the time the seventy-two-story Westin Peachtree Plaza was the city’s tallest building. To me it was monumental. I had watched it rise. When would it fall? Would it stand until the Sun melted it? One day it occurred to me with supreme force that, as a fact, my family’s house would crumble eventually. I stood outside with my nose three inches from the wall and wondered when the bricks, those bricks right there, would be separated from one another. Because, as a fact, they would be. On what exact calendar date? What would the weather be like on that day? Would there be clouds? If so, what would their configuration be at the precise moment of separation? Heavy thoughts for a 12-year-old, maybe, but it’s real and we spend a lot of time avoiding the fact that things — all things — fall apart. Pragmatists ever, the Buddhists are keenly aware of this and even have a special word — anicca — to express this fact of life. It is one of the three interrelated marks of existence, the other two being dukkha and anatta. Dukkha refers to suffering. Indeed, suffering is a fact. I don’t think I need to convince anyone of this. Anatta, or “not-self,” refers to the idea that there there is no permanent self, that all phenomena — the earth, the sun, trees, ourselves — possess no true, everlasting essence. It is for that reason that we should not cling to anything: not material goods, not status, not nature, not education, not even life itself. My New Testament professor, Luke Timothy Johnson, once said that of all major religions he preferred Christainity and Buddhism because only these two displayed an appropriate level of cynicism regarding our human station. I laughed when he said that but I wrote it down in the margin of my notes, thinking: I need to remember this. What happens when one really embraces one’s impermanence? Does one commit suicide? Does one come to understand Jesus? Does one wake up? Or does one, to paraphrase Walker Percy, live happily ever after precisely because one does not have to?

Artes Liberales, Astronomia et Ptolemaeus, 15ος αιώνας Unibibliotek Salzburg

Leica Aspheric Zoom 25x-50x, 18-9mm, 60-80 degree

Leica Zoom APO Televid WW ASPH Eyepiece 25-50x82mm

A Soliloquy of the Full Moon, She Being in a Mad Passion, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1800 Now as Heaven is my Lot, they're the Pests of the Nation ! Wherever they can come With clankum and blankum 'Tis all Botheration, & Hell & Damnation, With fun, jeering Conjuring Sky-staring, Loungering, And still to the tune of Transmogrification -- Those muttering Spluttering Ventriloquogusty Poets With no Hats Or Hats that are rusty. They're my Torment and Curse And harass me worse And bait me and bay me, far sorer I vow Than the Screech of the Owl Or the witch-wolf's long howl, Or sheep-killing Butcher-dog's inward Bow wow For me they all spite -- an unfortunate Wight. And the very first moment that I came to Light A Rascal call'd Voss the more to his scandal, Turn'd me into a sickle with never a handle. A Night or two after a worse Rogue there came, The head of the Gang, one Wordsworth by name -- `Ho! What's in the wind ?' 'Tis the voice of a Wizzard ! I saw him look at me most terribly blue ! He was hunting for witch-rhymes from great A to Izzard, And soon as he'd found them made no more ado But chang'd me at once to a little Canoe. From this strange Enchantment uncharm'd by degrees I began to take courage & hop'd for some Ease, When one Coleridge, a Raff of the self-same Banditti Past by--& intending no doubt to be witty, Because I'd th' ill-fortune his taste to displease, He turn'd up his nose, And in pitiful Prose Made me into the half of a small Cheshire Cheese. Well, a night or two past -- it was wind, rain & hail -- And I ventur'd abroad in a thick Cloak & veil -- But the very first Evening he saw me again The last mentioned Ruffian popp'd out of his Den -- I was resting a moment on the bare edge of Naddle I fancy the sight of me turn'd his Brains addle -- For what was I now ? A complete Barley-mow And when I climb'd higher he made a long leg, And chang'd me at once to an Ostrich's Egg -- But now Heaven be praised in contempt of the Loon, I am I myself I, the jolly full Moon. Yet my heart is still fluttering -- For I heard the Rogue muttering -- He was hulking and skulking at the skirt of a Wood When lightly & brightly on tip-toe I stood On the long level Line of a motionless Cloud And ho! what a Skittle-ground! quoth he aloud And wish'd from his heart nine Nine-pins to see In brightness & size just proportion'd to me. So I fear'd from my soul, That he'd make me a Bowl, But in spite of his spite This was more than his might And still Heaven be prais'd! in contempt of the Loon I am I myself I, the jolly full Moon.

Uranus set fra Ariel, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 2001

Arch, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 1999

SuperNova, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 1998

Galactic Center, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 1998

Ocean, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 1998

Quasar, Rolf Wahl Olsen, 1998

Omega Centauri, Rolf Olsen, 1999

A Beautiful Trifid, R Jay Gabany, 2011

Είναι το ο πιο ευέλικτος φακός που θα μπορούσες να πάρεις. Με ένα Barlow φθάνεις τα 300x (αν και συχνότερα θα στοχεύσεις τα 200x με 12mmx2 και 1mm exit pupil) και ναι, δουλεύει καλά με Barlow. Θα προτιμούσα έναν κοντύτερο, όπως τον Celestron Ultima (είναι πιο λειτουργικός με τον Orion Shorty Plus 2x από ότι με τον ψηλό Televue Powermate 2.5x). Αλλά φυσικά θα δουλεύει καλά με όλους τους Barlow. Εγώ τον ξεκινώ από τα 20mm καθώς το πεδίο είναι στενό και το field stop θολό στα 24mm (ο MkII είναι ο δικός μου). Μεταξύ 16mm και 8mm είναι υπέροχος. Στο Dob 8 η ιδανική ρύθμιση είναι 12mm +/- 4mm, δηλαδή ακριβώς στο παράθυρο βέλτιστης λειτουργίας του (στα SCT και MCT είναι λιγότερο ευτυχής η συγκατοίκηση, καθώς τα 24 και 20mm είναι στενά όπως σου είπα). Εντέλει ίσως χρειαστείς και έναν φακό ευρέως πεδίου >24mm, όπως τον Hyperion Aspheric 36mm ή τον φθηνότερο Skywatcher 38mm για να ξεπεράσεις την στενότητα του πεδίου στα 24-20mm του zoom. Με τρία μόνο κομμάτια μπορείς να κάνεις πολλά λοιπόν. Πολλοί θα έλεγαν να πάρεις 3 σταθερούς φακούς υψηλής ποιότητας και μεγάλου πεδίου. Δεν θα διαφωνήσω, αντιθέτως. Ο Zoom όμως θα σου δώσει τον χρόνο που χρειάζεσαι για να αποφασίσεις ποιά εστιακά μεγέθη έχεις ανάγκη και να μαζέψεις τα χρήματα ή να ενεδρεύσεις για τις κατάλληλες ευκαιρίες. Και ίσως με έκπληξη δεις πως δεν έχουν αρκετοί από τους σταθερούς φακούς καλύτερη ποιότητα από τον Baader Zoom. Εγώ πάντως τον κράτησα και ας έχω πια αρκετούς καλούς σταθερούς φακούς και αυτό νομίζω κάνουν οι περισσότεροι καθώς δεν πουλιέται συχνά ως μεταχειρισμένος, αν και είναι από τα μεγαλύτερα Best Seller και υπάρχει μάλλον σε πολλά σπίτια. Και αν τελικά δεν τον χρειάζεσαι άλλο θα πωληθεί σαν ζεστό ψωμάκι.

The rime of the ancient mariner, Powerslave, Iron Maiden, 1984 Hear the rime of the ancient mariner See his eye as he stops one of three Mesmerises one of the wedding guests Stay here and listen to the nightmares of the sea. And the music plays on, as the bride passes by Caught by his spell and the mariner tells his tale. Driven south to the land of the snow and ice To a place where nobody's been Through the snow fog flies on the albatross Hailed in God's name, hoping good luck it brings. And the ship sails on, back to the North Through the fog and ice and the albatross follows on. The mariner kills the bird of good omen His shipmates cry against what he's done But when the fog clears, they justify him And make themselves a part of the crime. Sailing on and on and north across the sea Sailing on and on and north 'til all is calm. The albatross begins with its vengeance A terrible curse a thirst has begun His shipmates blame bad luck on the mariner About his neck, the dead bird is hung. And the curse goes on and on at sea And the verse goes on and on for them and me. "Day after day, day after day, we stuck nor breath nor motion as idle as a painted ship upon a painted ocean Water, water everywhere and all the boards did shrink Water, water everywhere nor any drop to drink." There calls the mariner There comes a ship over the line But how can she sail with no wind in her sails and no tide. See...onward she comes Onward she nears out of the sun See, she has no crew She has no life, wait but there's two. Death and she Life in Death, They throw their dice for the crew She wins the mariner and he belongs to her now. Then...crew one by one they drop down dead, two hundred men She...she, Life in Death. She lets him live, her chosen one. "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 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 curse it lives on in their eyes The mariner he wished he'd die Along with the sea creatures But they lived on, so did he. And by the light of the moon He prays for their beauty not doom With heart he blesses them God's creatures all of them too. Then the spell starts to break The albatross falls from his neck Sinks down like lead into the sea Then down in falls comes the rain. Hear the groans of the long dead seamen See them stir and they start to rise Bodies lifted by good spirits None of them speak and they're lifelesss in their eyes And revenge is still sought, penance starts again Cast into a trance and the nightmare carries on. Now the curse is finally lifted And the mariner sights his home spirits go from the long dead bodies Form their own light and the mariner's left alone. And then a boat came sailing towards him It was a joy he could not believe The pilot's boat, his son and the hermit, Penance of life will fall onto him. And the ship it sinks like lead into the sea And the hermit shrieves the mariner of his sins. The mariner's bound to tell of his story To tell this tale wherever he goes To teach God's word by his own example That we must love all things that God made. And the wedding guest's a sad and wiser man And the tale goes on and on and on.

The Rime of the Ancyent Marinere, Lyrical Ballads, Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1798 i Part I 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, And I am next of kin; The guests are met, the feast is set: Mayst hear the merry din.' He holds him with his skinny hand, "There was a ship," quoth he. `Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!' Eftsoons his hand dropped he. He holds him with his glittering eye - The Wedding-Guest stood still, And listens like a three years' child: 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. "The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared, Merrily did we drop Below the kirk, below the hill, Below the lighthouse top. The sun came up upon the left, 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 -" 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 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. "And now the storm-blast came, and he Was tyrannous and strong: He struck with his o'ertaking wings, And chased us south along. With sloping masts and dipping prow, As who pursued with yell and blow Still treads the shadow of his foe, And foward bends his head, The ship drove fast, loud roared the blast, And southward aye we fled. 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 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: 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 it had been a Christian soul, 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! And a good south wind sprung up behind; The Albatross did follow, And every day, for food or play, Came to the mariner's hollo! In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perched for vespers nine; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmered the white moonshine." `God save thee, ancient Mariner, From the fiends that plague thee thus! - Why look'st thou so?' -"With my crossbow I shot the Albatross." Part II "The sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left 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! And I had done a 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, 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. '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 Into that silent sea. Down dropped the breeze, the sails dropped down, 'Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea! 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, 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; 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 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. 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, 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! Instead of the cross, the Albatross About my neck was hung." Part III "There passed a weary time. Each throat Was parched, and glazed each eye. A weary time! a weary time! 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; 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, It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could nor laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood! I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, 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, 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! 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 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. 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 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, Her locks were yellow as gold: Her skin was as white as leprosy, The Nightmare Life-in-Death was she, Who thicks man's blood with cold. The naked hulk alongside came, 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; 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! 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 clomb above the eastern bar The horned moon, with one bright star 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. 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, - They fled to bliss or woe! And every soul it passed me by, Like the whizz of my crossbow!" Part IV `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 dropped 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; Forthe 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 the 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 selfsame moment I could pray; And from my neck so free The Albatross fell off, and sank Like lead into the sea." Part V "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, 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. 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: 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; 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! 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; 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, 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. 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; 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. 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!' "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, 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; Slowly the sounds came back again, Now mixed, now one by one. Sometimes a-dropping from the sky I heard the skylark sing; Sometimes all little birds that are, 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, 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, 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, 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. 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, 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: 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, 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 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.' The other was a softer voice, As soft as honey-dew: Quoth he, `The man hath penance done, And penance more will do.' Part VI 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 snapped: 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 lighthouse top I see? Is this the hill? is this the kirk? Is this mine own country? 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." Part VII "This Hermit good lives in that wood Which slopes down to the sea. How loudly his sweet voice he rears! He loves to talk with marineers That come from a far country. He kneels at morn, and noon, and eve - He hath a cushion plump: 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, 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! 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, 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 afeared' -`Push on, push on!' 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. 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, 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. 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 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, 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 country, 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. `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; 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. 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. 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, 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. 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, 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 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; 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 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.

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7 Ελεύθερες Τέχνες, Francesco di Stefano Pesellino, 1460 Birmingham Museum of Art, Birmingham, Alabama

Starry Night, Alice Weber

Newton, William Blake, 1795

Super Moon Orb, Fellwalker, 2011

Full Moon Orb, Duane Schoon, 2009

Moon Orb, Mr Wobble, 2010