Part III

    There passed a weary time. Each throat

    Was parched¹， and glazed² each eye.

    A weary time！ A weary time！

    How glazed each weary eye，

    When looking westward³， I beheld⁴

    A something in the sky.

    At first it seemed a little speck⁵，

    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 dodged⁶ a water sprite，

    It plunged⁷ and tacked⁸ and veered⁹.

    With throats unslaked， with black lips baked，

    We could nor laugh nor wail¹⁰；

    Through utter drouth all dumb we stood！

    I bit my arm， I sucked 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 tacks¹¹ no more！

    Hither to work us weal；

    Without a breeze， without a tide，

    She steadies with upright keel！

    The western wave was all aflame.

    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 flecked with bars，

    （Heaven's mother send us grace！）

    As if through a dungeon¹² grate he peered

    With broad and burning face.

    Alas¹³！ （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 ribs¹⁴ 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？

    Her lips were red， her looks were free，

    Her locks were yellow as gold：

    Her skin was as white as leprosy，

    The nightmare Life-in-Death was she，

    Who thicks man's blood with cold.

    The naked hulk alongside came，

    And the twain were casting dice¹⁵；

    'The game is done！ I've won！ I've won！'

    Quoth she， and whistles thrice.

    The sun's rim¹⁶ 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 listened and looked sideways up！

    Fear at my heart， as at a cup，

    My lifeblood seemed to sip¹⁷！

    The stars were dim， and thick the night，

    The steersman's face by his lamp gleamed white；

    From the sails the dews did drip——

    Till clomb above the eastern bar

    The horned moon， with one bright star

    Within the nether¹⁸ tip.

    One after one， by the star-dogged moon，

    Too quick for groan¹⁹ or sigh，

    Each turned his face with ghastly pang²⁰，

    And cursed me with his eye.

    Four times fifty living men，

    （And I heard nor sigh nor groan）

    With heavy thump²¹， a lifeless lump，

    They dropped down one by one.

    Their souls did from their bodies fly——

    They fled to bliss²² or woe²³！

    And every soul， it passed me by，

    Like the whizz of my crossbow！"

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