THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE-3

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    III.

    I saw a something in the Sky

    No bigger than my ?st;

    At ?rst it seemd a little speck

    And then it seemd a mist:

    It movd and movd, and took at last

    A certain shape, I wist.

    A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!

    And still it nerd and nerd;

    And, an it dodgd a water-sprite,

    It plungd and tackd and veerd.

    With throat unslackd, with black lips bakd

    Ne could we laugh, ne wail:

    Then while thro drouth all dumb they stood

    I bit my arm and suckd the blood

    And cryd, A sail! a sail!

    With throat unslackd, with black lips bakd

    Agape they heard me call:

    Gramercy! they for joy did grin

    And all at oheir breath drew in

    As they were drinking all.

    She doth not tack from side to side--

    Hither to work us weal

    Withouten wind, withouten tide

    She steddies with upri<q>..</q>ght keel.

    The western wave was all a ?ame,

    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 strait the Sun was ?eckd with bars

    (Heavens mother send us grace)

    As if thro a dungeon grate he peerd

    With broad and burning face.

    Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)

    How fast she neres and neres!

    Are those _her_ Sails that glan the Sun

    Like restless gossameres?

    Are these _her_ naked ribs, which ?eckd

    The sun that did behind them peer?

    And are these two all, all the crew,

    That woman and her ?eshless Pheere?

    _His_ bones were black with many a crack,

    All blad bare, I ween;

    Jet-blad bare, save where with rust

    Of mouldy damps and el crust

    Theyre patc<s></s>hd with purple and green.

    _Her_ lips are red, _her_ loo<u>.</u>ks are free,

    _Her_ locks are yellow as gold:

    Her skin is as white as leprosy,

    And she is far liker Death than he;

    Her ?esh makes the still air cold.

    The naked Hulk alongside came

    And the Twain were playing dice;

    &quot;The Game is done! Ive won, Ive won!&quot;

    Quoth she, and whistled thrice.

    A gust of wind sterte up behind

    And whistled thro his bones;

    Thro the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth

    Half-whistles and half-groans.

    With never a whisper in the Sea

    Off darts the Spectre-ship;

    While be above the Eastern bar

    The horned Moon, with one bright Star

    Almost atweeips.

    Oer one by the horned Moon

    (Listen, er! to me)

    Each turnd his face with a ghastly pang

    And cursd me with his ee.

    Four times ?fty living men,

    With never a sigh roan,

    With heavy thump, a lifeless lump

    They droppd down one by one.

    Their souls did from their bodies ?y,--

    They ?ed to bliss or woe;

    And every soul it passd me by,

    Like the whiz of my Cross-bow.

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