invisible inhabitants of this planet,
neither departed souls nor angels; concerning
whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic
Constantinopolitan, Michael Psellus, may be
consulted. They are very numerous, and there is
no climate or element without one or more.]

And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so:
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,
Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

[The shipmates, in their sore distress,
would fain throw the whole guilt on the
ancient Mariner: in sign whereof they
hang the dead sea-bird round his neck.]

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

[The ancient Mariner beholdeth
a sign in the element afar off.]

'HERE passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, 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 seemed a little speck,
And then it seemed 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 neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged and tacked and veered.

[At its nearer approach, it seemeth
him to be a ship; and at a dear ransom he
freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.]

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 sucked the blood,
And cried, "A sail! a sail!"

[A flash of joy.]

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.

[And horror follows. For can it be a _ship_
that comes onward without wind or tide?]

"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.

[It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship.]

And straight the Sun was flecked with bars,
(Heaven's Mother send us grace!)
As if through a dungeon grate