5/13/2010 Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Literature Network » Samuel Taylor Coleridge » Kubla Khan

Kubla Khan
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In Xanadu did Kubla Khan

A stately pleasure-dome decree:
Where Alph, the sacred river, ran
Through caverns measureless to man
Down to a sunless sea.

So tw ice five miles of fertile ground

With w alls and tow ers were girdled round:
And there w ere gardens bright w ith sinuous rills,
Where blossomed many an incense-bearing tree;
And here were forests ancient as the hills,
Enfolding sunny spots of greenery.

But oh! that deep romantic chasm which slanted

Down the green hill athwart a cedarn cover!
A savage place! as holy and enchanted
As e'er beneath a waning moon was haunted
By w oman w ailing for her demon-lover!
And from this chasm, w ith ceaseless turmoil seething,
As if this earth in fast thick pants w ere breathing,
A mighty fountain momently w as forced:
Amid w hose swift half-intermitted burst
Huge fragments vaulted like rebounding hail,
Or chaffy grain beneath the thresher's flail:
And 'mid these dancing rocks at once and ever
It flung up momently the sacred river.
Five miles meandering w ith a mazy motion
Through w ood and dale the sacred river ran,
Then reached the caverns measureless to man,
And sank in tumult to a lifeless ocean:
And 'mid this tumult Kubla heard from far
Ancestral voices prophesying w ar!

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5/13/2010 Kubla Khan by Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The shadow of the dome of pleasure

Floated midway on the waves;
Where was heard the mingled measure
From the fountain and the caves.
It w as a miracle of rare device,
A sunny pleasure-dome w ith caves of ice!

A damsel with a dulcimer

In a vision once I saw :
It w as an Abyssinian maid,
And on her dulcimer she played,
Singing of Mount Abora.
Could I revive w ithin me
Her symphony and song,
To such a deep delight 'tw ould w in me
That with music loud and long
I w ould build that dome in air,
That sunny dome! those caves of ice!
And all who heard should see them there,
And all should cry, Bew are! Beware!
His flashing eyes, his floating hair!
Weave a circle round him thrice,
And close your eyes w ith holy dread,
For he on honey-dew hath fed
And drunk the milk of Paradise.

Literature Network » Samuel Taylor Coleridge » Kubla Khan

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