Rime of the Ancient Mariner

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.

Hi, I’m Dr. Ileheva Tua’one, and I am a professor at the University of Colorado Colorado Springs (UCCS) in the Women’s and Ethnic Studies Department. I also hold a special position as the inaugural Kraemer Family Library Storytelling Professor.

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.

I study 18th-century texts about Oceania and other spaces of the world not normally covered by 18th-century scholarship. I came across this text while studying that period. I’m also a professor of Indigenous Studies, and because of this, I really focus on indigeneity in the 18th century and indigeneity in general.

Because of this, I really value orality and oral history—the kinds of histories that are passed down through spoken word from person to person. To honor my ancestors, the master storysmiths who memorized epic poetry and legends that could last for days when recited, I decided to begin memorizing long epic poetry myself.

The first epic poem I ever memorized was The Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written in 1798. I chose this poem because of its rhyme scheme and the way its rhythm makes memorization easier. Coleridge’s use of alliteration and repeated sounds made the poem especially accessible.

That memorization helped me develop the part of my brain responsible for memory. As a result, I’m able to memorize parts of literature fairly easily for the classes I teach, which allows me to recall passages quickly and become a better professor. This practice is also one of the ways that I like to re‑indigenize the academy—by honoring orality and long-form memorization.

At length did cross an albatross,
Thorough the fog it came; as if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name…

There are many themes in The Rime of the Ancient Mariner that still appear in modern culture and film—sometimes without us even realizing their origin. One of the most enduring tropes is that of the “albatross around my neck,” which symbolizes a kind of curse, guilt, or burden caused by one’s own actions.

This trope appears frequently in earlier 20th-century films and continues to appear in modern 21st‑century media. It represents a guilt that cannot be escaped—a recurring consequence of something one has done.

Water, water everywhere, and not a drop to drink.

This line has been repeated throughout literary and film history, becoming a shorthand for irony and deprivation.

The first part of the poem ends with an arbitrary crime: the mariner shoots the albatross, and it’s never explained why. This randomness is part of what makes the poem resonate. Sometimes we make rash decisions. We are human, and we err. The poem is about unintended consequences and the kind of guilt that accumulates when we don’t understand why we’ve acted as we have.

The poem is also a story within a story. The mariner encounters a wedding guest on his way to a wedding and compels him—almost magically—to sit and listen. The tale lasts all night, and when the poem ends, the wedding guest walks away changed, “a sadder and a wiser man.”

As the mariner recounts the journey, the ship sails through the South Seas, and the albatross becomes a companion, arriving each night at Vespers. Without explanation, the mariner kills it, coinciding with their descent into the doldrums where there is no wind. The consequences escalate: thirst, madness, death, and ultimately the mariner alone among corpses.

The poem becomes increasingly grim, with supernatural elements—Life‑in‑Death and Death personified, dice games for souls, the dead rising to steer the ship. Eventually, the mariner begins to observe the beauty of living creatures—the water snakes—and in blessing them unknowingly, he is freed from his curse.

That selfsame moment I could pray,
And from my neck, so free, the albatross
Fell off, and sank like lead into the sea.

The albatross represents guilt, but also moral awakening. It reflects the idea that moral understanding and altruism can only be reached through error. We don’t arrive at goodness without first making mistakes.

This idea—that all living things have souls—was revolutionary in 1798, a time when society was only beginning to recognize that women had souls. Coleridge’s poem extends that recognition to animals as well, aligning with broader Enlightenment debates, including those raised by Mary Wollstonecraft.

Because of this, the poem’s ghost stories, themes of regret, and ethical reckoning still resonate today. The Rime of the Ancient Mariner continues to inspire adaptations, including musicals and even a song by Iron Maiden.

As the inaugural Storytelling Professor, this work is deeply important to both my research and personal interests. Narrative, orality, oral history, and honoring storytelling within academic libraries are essential to decolonizing academic spaces. Storytelling is one of the ways that we can do this.