histling winds that scud along,
And surges roaring from below,
Shall my signal be,
To think on thee,
And this shall be my song:
Blow high, blow low.

And on that night when all the crew
The mem'ry of their former lives
O'er flowing cans of flip renew,
And drink their sweethearts and their wives,
I'll heave a sigh, and think on thee;
And, as the ship rolls through the sea,
The burthen of my song shall be
Blow high, blow low.

THE JOLLY YOUNG WATERMAN

AND did you not hear of a jolly young Waterman,
Who at Blackfriars Bridge us'd for to ply,
And he feather'd his oars with such skill and dexterity,
Winning each heart and delighting each eye.
He look'd so neat and row'd so steadily,
The maidens all flock'd to his boat so readily,
And he eyed the young rogues with so charming an air,
That this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.

What sights of fine folks he oft row'd in his wherry,
'Twas cleaned out so nice and so painted withall,
He always was first oars when the fine city ladies,
In a party to Ranelagh went, or Vauxhall.
And oft-times would they be giggling and leering,
But 'twas all one to Tom their jibing and jeering,
For loving or liking he little did care,
For this Waterman ne'er was in want of a fare.

And yet but to see how strangely things happen,
As he row'd along thinking of nothing at all,
He was ply'd by a damsel so lovely and charming,
That she smil'd, and so straightway in love he did fall.
And would this young damsel e'en banish his sorrow,
He'd wed her to-night, before even to-morrow,
And how should this Waterman ever know care,
When he's married and never in want of a fare?

_SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE_

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER

PART I

[An ancient Mariner meeteth three Gallants bidden
to a wedding-feast, and detaineth one.]

IT is an ancient Mariner,
And he stoppeth one of three.
'By thy long grey beard and glittering eye,
Now wherefore stopp'st thou me?

'The Bridegroom's doors are opened wide,
And I am next of kin;
The guests are met, the feast is set:
May'st hear the merry din.'

He holds him with his skinny hand,
'There was a ship,' quoth he.
Hold off! unhand me, grey-beard loon!'
Eftsoons his hand dropt he.

[The Wedding-Guest is spellbound by the eye
of the old seafaring man, and constrained
to hear his tale.]

He holds him with his glittering eye--
The Wedding-Guest stood still,
And listens like a three years' child:
The Mariner hath h