It seemeth

him but the skeleton of a

ship.

And its ribs are seen as bars on the

face of the setting Sun.

The spectrewoman and her death

mate, and no

other on

board the

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)

As if through a dungeon-grate he peer'd,
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, skeleton-ship. Her locks were yellow as gold:

Like vessel,

like crew!

DEATH, and
LIFE-IN-
DEATH have

Her skin was as white as leprosy,

The Night-Mair 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, I've won !"

Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

A gust of wind sterte up behind

And whistled through his bones;

Through the holes of his eyes and the hole

of his mouth,

Half whistles and half groans.

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,

My life-blood seem'd to sip!

The stars were dim, and thick the night,

The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd

white;

From the sails the dews did drip

Till clombe above the eastern bar

The horned Moon, with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) win

neth the an

cient Mariner

At the rising

of the Moon,

One after one, by the star-dogg'd Moon
Too quick for groan or sigh,

Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang,

And curs'd me with his eye.

Four times fifty living men,
(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)

With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropped down one by one.

The souls did from their bodies fly,

They fled to bliss or woe!

And every soul, it passed me by,

Like the whiz of my CROSS-BOW!

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

PART THE FOURTH.

"I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner!

I fear thy skinny hand!

And thou art long, and lank, and brown,

As is the ribbed 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,

Alone on a wide wide sea!

For the two last lines of this stanza, I am indebted to Mr. WORDSWORTH. It was on a delightful walk from Nether Stowey to Dulverton, with him and his sister, in the Autumn of 1797, that that this Poem was planned, and in part composed.

He despiseth the creatures

of the calm,

And envieth

that they should live,

and so many lie dead.

And never a saint took pity on
My soul in agony.

The

many men, so beautiful! And they all dead did lie:

And a thousand thousand slimy things

Liv'd on; and so did I.

I look'd upon the rotting sea,
And drew my eyes away;

I look'd upon the rotting deck,

And there the dead men lay.

I look'd to Heaven, and tried to pray;
But or ever a prayer had gusht,

A wicked whisper came, and made

My heart as dry as dust.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,

And the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and

the sky!

Lay, like a cloud, on my weary eye,

And the dead were at my feet.