And I had done a hellish thing,

And it would work 'em woe;

For all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird
That made the breeze to blow;

Ah, wretch! said they, the bird to slay
That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head,
The glorious sun uprist;

Then all averr'd, I had kill'd the bird

That brought the fog and mist.

'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay,

That bring the fog and mist.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow follow'd free;

We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down

'Twas sad as sad could be;

And we did speak only to break

The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky,

The bloody sun, at noon,

Right up above the mast did stand,

No bigger than the moon.

Day after day, day after day,

We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted ship

Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere,

And all the boards did shrink

Water, water, everywhere,

Nor any drop to drink.

The very deep did rot; O Christ!
That ever this should be;

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued so;

Nine fathom deep he had follow'd 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 past 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 plung'd, and tack'd, and veer'd.

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 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,
Her locks were yellow as gold;
Her skin was as white as leprosy,
The night-mare life-in-death was she,
Who thicks men's blood with cold.