The Complete Works of Samuel Taylor Coleridge (Illustrated Edition). Samuel Taylor Coleridge

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Nine fathom deep he had follow’d us

       From the Land of Mist and Snow.

      And every tongue thro’ utter drouth

       Was wither’d at the root;

       We could not speak no more than if

       We had been choked with soot.

      Ah wel-a-day! what evil looks

       Had I from old and young;

       Instead of the Cross the Albatross

       About my neck was hung.

      III.

      I saw a something in the Sky

       No bigger than my fist;

       At first it seem’d a little speck

       And then it seem’d a mist:

       It mov’d and mov’d, and took at last

       A certain shape, I wist.

      A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!

       And still it ner’d and ner’d;

       And, an it dodg’d a water-sprite,

       It plung’d and tack’d and veer’d.

      With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d

       Ne could we laugh, ne wail:

       Then while thro’ drouth all dumb they stood

       I bit my arm and suck’d the blood

       And cry’d, A sail! a sail!

      With throat unslack’d, with black lips bak’d

       Agape they hear’d me call:

       Gramercy! they for joy did grin

       And all at once their 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 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 strait the Sun was fleck’d with bars

       (Heaven’s mother send us grace)

       As if thro’ a dungeon grate he peer’d

       With broad and burning face.

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

       How fast she neres and neres!

       Are those her Sails that glance in the Sun

       Like restless gossameres?

      Are these her naked ribs, which fleck’d

       The sun that did behind them peer?

       And are these two all, all the crew,

       That woman and her fleshless Pheere?

      His bones were 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.

      Her lips are red, her looks are free,

       Her locks are yellow as gold:

       Her skin is as white as leprosy,

       And she is far liker Death than he;

       Her flesh makes the still air cold.

      The naked Hulk alongside came

       And the Twain were playing dice;

       “The Game is done! I’ve won, I’ve won!”

       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 clombe above the Eastern bar

       The horned Moon, with one bright Star

       Almost atween the tips.

      One after one by the horned Moon

       (Listen, O Stranger! to me)

       Each turn’d his face with a ghastly pang

       And curs’d me with his ee.

      Four times fifty living men,

       With never a sigh or groan,

       With heavy thump, a lifeless lump

       They dropp’d down one by one.

      Their souls did from their bodies fly, —

       They fled to bliss or woe;

       And every soul it pass’d me by,

       Like the whiz of my Cross-bow.

      IV.

      “I fear thee, ancyent Marinere!

       ”I fear thy skinny hand;

       “And thou art long and lank and brown

       ”As is the ribb’d Sea-sand.

      “I fear thee and thy glittering eye

       ”And thy skinny hand so brown” —

       Fear not, fear not, thou wedding guest!

       This body dropt not down.

      Alone, alone, all all alone

      

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