About, about, in reel and rout
The Death-fires danc'd 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 s0:
Nine fathom deep he had follow'd us
From the Land of Mist and Snow.

And every tongue thro' atter 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 ber Sails that glance in the Sun Like restless gossameres?

B

Are those ber naked ribs, which fleck'd

The sun that did behind them peer? And are those 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, ber 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.