THE RIME OF THE ANCYENT MARINERE-3
Her skin is as white as leprosy,
_Her_ lips are red, _her_ looks are free,
_Her_ locks are yellow as gold:
The horned Moon, with one bright Star
With throat unslackd, with black lips bakd
One after one by the horned Moon
With never a sigh or groan,
Thro the holes of his eyes and the hole of his mouth
And cursd me with his ee.
(Heavens mother send us grace)
Then while thro drouth all dumb they stood
And the Twain were pla九*九*藏*书*网ying dice;
And strait the Sun was ?eckd with bars
I saw a something in the Sky
And, an it dodgd a water-sprite,
A certain shape, I wist.
Agape they heard me call:
With throat unslackd, with black lips bakd
Half-whistles and half-groans.
They droppd down one by one.
With broad and burning face.
A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist!
Their souls did from their bodies ?y,--
A gust of wind sterte up behind
And still 九-九-藏-书-网it nerd and nerd;
It movd and movd, and took at last
And then it seemd a mist:
The naked Hulk alongside came
As they were drinking all.
Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud)
Ne could we laugh, ne wail:
The western wave was all a ?ame,
That woman and her ?eshless Pheere?
I bit my arm and suckd the blood
Gramercy! they for joy did grin
It plungd and tackd and veerd.
(Listen, O Stranger! to me)
All black and bare,９9ｌｉb.nｅｔ I ween;
Withouten wind, withouten tide
How fast she neres and neres!
They ?ed to bliss or woe;
The sun that did behind them peer?
Like restless gossameres?
At ?rst it seemd a little speck
And every soul it passd me by,
Four times ?fty living men,
When that strange shape drove suddenly
Rested the broad bright Sun;
Are those _her_ Sails that glance in the Sun
Her ?esh makes the still air cold.
With never a whisper in thewww.99lib.net Sea
She doth not tack from side to side--
And she is far liker Death than he;
Hither to work us weal
Off darts the Spectre-ship;
Betwixt us and the Sun.
Almost upon the western wave
Of mouldy damps and charnel crust
She steddies with upright keel.
"The Game is done! Ive won, Ive won!"
With heavy thump, a lifeless lump
Each turnd his face with a ghastly pang
Like the whiz of my Cross-bow.
The day was well nigh done!
Jet9９ｌiｂ•ｎｅｔ-black and bare, save where with rust
No bigger than my ?st;
Theyre patchd with purple and green.
Quoth she, and whistled thrice.
And whistled thro his bones;
_His_ bones were black with many a crack,
III.
And are these two all, all the crew,
Are these _her_ naked ribs, which ?eckd
Almost atween the tips.
As if thro a dungeon grate he peerd
While clombe above the Eastern bar
And all at once their breath drew in
And cryd, A sail! a sail!