'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 wither'd 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 pass'd a weary time. Each throat Was parch'd, 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 seem'd a little speck,
And then it seem'd 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 near'd and near'd:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tack'd 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 suck'd 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 fleck'd 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 Night-mare 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 listen'd and look'd sideways up!

Fear at my heart, as at a cup,