Lyrical Ballads, With a Few Other Poems (1798). William Wordsworth

the Twain were playing dice;

      "The Game is done! I've won, I've won!"

        Quoth she, and whistled thrice.

      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.

      With never a whisper in the Sea

        Off darts the Spectre-ship;

      While clombe 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 curs'd me with his ee.

      Four times fifty living men,

        With never a sigh or 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 whiz of my Cross-bow.

      IV

      "I fear thee, ancyent Marinere!

        "I fear thy skinny hand;

      "And thou art long and lank and brown

        "As is the ribb'd Sea-sand.

      "I fear thee and thy glittering eye

        "And thy skinny hand so brown" —

      Fear not, fear not, thou wedding guest!

        This body dropt not down.

      Alone, alone, all all alone

        Alone on the wide wide Sea;

      And Christ would take no pity on

        My soul in agony.

      The many men so beautiful,

        And they all dead did lie!

      And a million million slimy things

        Liv'd on – and so did I.

      I look'd upon the rotting Sea,

        And drew my eyes away;

      I look'd upon the eldritch deck,

        And there the dead men lay.

      I look'd to Heaven, and try'd to pray;

        But or ever a prayer had gusht,

      A wicked whisper came and made

        My heart as dry as dust.

      I clos'd my lids and kept them close,

        Till the balls like pulses beat;

      For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky

      Lay like a load on my weary eye,

        And the dead were at my feet.

      The cold sweat melted from their limbs,

        Ne rot, ne reek did they;

      The look with which they look'd on me,

        Had never pass'd away.

      An orphan's curse would drag to Hell

        A spirit from on high:

      But O! more horrible than that

        Is the curse in a dead man's eye!

      Seven days, seven nights I saw that curse

        And yet I could not die.

      The moving Moon went up the sky

        And no where did abide:

      Softly she was going up

        And a star or two beside —

      Her beams bemock'd the sultry main

        Like morning frosts yspread;

      But where the ship's huge shadow lay,

      The charmed water burnt alway

        A still and awful red.

      Beyond the shadow of the ship

        I watch'd the water-snakes:

      They mov'd in tracks of shining white;

      And when they rear'd, the elfish light

        Fell off in hoary flakes.

      Within the shadow of the ship

        I watch'd their rich attire:

      Blue, glossy green, and velvet black

      They coil'd and swam; and every track

        Was a flash of golden fire.

      O happy living things! no tongue

        Their beauty might declare:

      A spring of love gusht from my heart,

        And I bless'd them unaware!

      Sure my kind saint took pity on me,

        And I bless'd them unaware.

      The self-same moment I could pray;

        And from my neck so free

      The Albatross fell off, and sank

        Like lead into the sea.

      V

      O sleep, it is a gentle thing

        Belov'd from pole to pole!

      To Mary-queen the praise be yeven

      She sent the gentle sleep from heaven

        That slid into my soul.

      The silly buckets on the deck

        That had so long remain'd,

      I dreamt that they were fill'd with dew

        And when I awoke it rain'd.

      My lips were wet, my throat was cold,

        My garments all were dank;

      Sure I had drunken in my dreams

        And still my body drank.

      I mov'd and could not feel my limbs,

        I was so light, almost

      I thought that I had died in sleep,

        And was a blessed Ghost.

      The roaring wind! it roar'd far off,

        It did not come anear;

      But with its sound it shook the sails

        That were so thin and sere.

      The upper air bursts into life,

        And a hundred fire-flags sheen

      To and fro they are hurried about;

      And to and fro, and in and out

        The stars dance on between.

      The coming wind doth roar more loud;

        The sails do sigh, like sedge:

      The rain pours down from one black cloud

        And the Moon is at its edge.

      Hark! hark! the thick