Are those her Ribs, thro' which the Sun

Did peer, as thro' a grate ?

And are those two all, all her crew,
That Woman, and her Mate?

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,

And she was far liker Death than he ;

Her flesh made the still air cold.

The naked Hulk alongside came

And 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 between 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, ancient Mariner! "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 brownFear 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 ghastly 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.