e
uses it here,--*grin*. Coleridge says ("Table Talk" May 31, 1830): "I
took the thought of 'grinning for joy' from my companion's remark to me,
when we had climbed to the top of Plinlimmon [in Wales, in the summer of
1794], and were nearly dead with thirst. We could not speak from the
constriction, till we found a little puddle under a stone. He said to
me: 'You grinned like an idiot.' He had done the same." To "grin" was
originally to snarl and show the teeth as animals do when angry. "They
go to and fro in the evening: they grin like a dog, and run about
through the city," Ps. LIX., 6, Prayer-Book Version, where the King
James Version has "make a noise like a dog." Hence idiots, stupid
people, foolish people, all who are or who demean themselves below the
dignity of man, _grin_ rather than smile; and so the Mariner's
companions, their muscles stiffened by drought, could show their
gladness only by the contortions of a grin, not by a natural smile of
joy.

169--*Without a breeze, without a tide*. The Phantom Ship is a
wide-spread sailor's superstition that has been often used in the
romantic literature of the nineteenth century. See Scott's "Rokeby,"
Canto II. xi; Marryat's "Phantom Ship;" Poe's "MS. Found in a Bottle;"
and Longfellow's "Ballad of Carmilhan" (in "Tales of a Wayside Inn,"
Second Day). It is seen in storms, driving by with all sails set, and is
generally held to be an omen of disaster. Coleridge has shaped the
legend to his own purposes. The ship appears in a calm, not in a storm,
and sailing without, rather than against, wind and tide; and instead of
a crew of dead men it carries only Death and Life-in-Death. Possibly he
was acquainted with a form of the legend found in Bechstein's _Deutsches
Sagenbuch_ (pointed out by Dr. Sykes), in which "Falkenberg, for murder
of his brother, is condemned to sail a spectral bark, attended only by
his good and his evil spirit, who play dice for his soul."

185--*Are those her ribs*, etc. Instead of this stanza the first
edition had these two:

"Are those _her_ naked ribs, which fleck'd
The sun that did behind them peer?
And are those two all, all the crew,
That woman and her fleshless Pheere?

"His bones are black with many a crack,
All black and bare, I ween;
Jet-black and bare, save where with rust
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
They're patch'd with purple and green"

And again after line 198 the first edition had this stanza:

"A