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:
And as if it dodged a water-sprite,
It plunged 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!

*Then while thro' drouth all dumb they stood.-1798.

She doth not tack from side to side.-Ib.

Withouten wind, withouten tide.-I.

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 ?*

* Are those her naked ribs, which fleck'd The sun that did behind them peer? And are these two all, all the crew,

That woman and her fleshless Pheere ?-1798.

Are those her ribs which fleck'd the Sun

Like the bars of a dungeon grate?

And are these two all, all the crew

That woman and her mate?

[MS. Correction by S. T. C. in a copy of the edition of 1798.]

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 deathmate, and no other on board the

skeletonship.

Like vessel, like crew!

Death and Life-in-death have diced for the ship's crew, and

[This Ship it was a plankless thing,
A bare Anatomy!

A plankless Spectre-and it moved
Like a Being of the Sea!

The woman and a fleshless man
Therein sate merrily.*

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 were patch'd† with purple and green.‡]

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 man's blood with cold.§

The naked hulk alongside came,
And the twain were casting dice ;||

*This stanza was found added in the handwriting of the Poet in the margin of a copy of the Bristol edition of Lyrical Ballads. It is here printed for the first time.-ED.

†They're patch'd.—1798.

The above stanza was omitted by the author in his own collected editions.-ED.

§ And she was far liker Death than he;

Her flesh made the still air cold.-1800.
Playing dice.-lb.

"The game
is done! I've won, I've won !"
Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

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 dew did drip-

Till clomb above the eastern bar
The horned Moon,* with one bright star
Within the nether tip.

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 cursed me with his eye.†

* It is a common superstition among sailors that something evil is about to happen whenever a star dogs the moon.-(MS. Note by S. T. C., now first printed.)

† A gust of wind sterte up behind

And whistled thro' his bones;

Thro' the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
Half-whistles and half-groans.

she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner.

No twilight within the courts of the sun.

At the rising of the Moon.

One after another.

His shipmates drop down dead.

But Life-inDeath begins her

work on the

ancient Mariner.

Four times fifty living men,

(And I heard nor sigh nor groan)*
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump,
They dropp'd down one by one.

Their souls did from their bodies fly,-
They fled to bliss or woe!

And every soul, it pass'd me by,
Like the whizz of my cross-bow !

The wedding guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him.

PART IV.

"I FEAR thee, ancient Mariner !
I fear thy skinny hand!

And thou art long, and lank, and brown,
As is the ribb'd sea-sand. †

With never a whisper in the Sea

Off darts the Spectre-ship;

While clomb above the Eastern bar

The horned Moon, with one bright Star

Almost atween the tips.

One after one by the horned Moon

(Listen, O Stranger! to me)

Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang

And cursed me with his ee.-1798.

* With never a sigh or groan.—Ib.

For the last two 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