SELECTIONS IN ENGLISH POETRY

The very deep did rot: O Christ!
That ever this should be!
Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs
Upon the slimy sea.

125

About, about, in reel and rout
The death-fires danced at night;
The water, like a witch's oils,
Burnt green, and blue and white.

And some in dreams assured were
Of the spirit that plagued us so;
Nine fathom deep he had followed us
From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter

drought,

Was withered at the root;
We could not speak, no more than if
We had been choked with soot.

Ah! well-a-day! what evil looks
Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.

PART THE THIRD

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye,

91

A spirit had
followed them;
one of the invis-
ible inhabitants
of this planet,
neither departed
sends nor angels;

concerning
whom the learned
Jew, Josephtts.
and the Platonic
Constantinopol i-

1an, Michael
Psellus, mag be
consulted. They
are very numer-
ous, and there is

no climate or
element without

one or more.

The shipmates,
in their sore dis-
tress, would
fain throw the
whole guilt on

the ancient
Mariner: in sign

element afar of.

130

135

140

hang the dead

sea-bird round

his neck.

The

'45