III. So past a weary time; each throat Was parch'd, and glaz'd each eye, When, looking westward, I beheld A something in the sky. At first it seem'd a little speck It mov'd and mov'd, and took at last A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist! It plung'd and tack'd and veer'd. With throat unslack'd, with black lips bak'd We could nor laugh nor wail; Thro' utter drouth all dumb we stood Till I bit my arm and suck'd the blood, And cry'd, A sail! a sail ! With throat unslack'd, with black lips bak'd, Gramercy! they for joy did grin And all at once their breath drew in As they were drinking all. See! See! (I cry'd) she tacks no more! Hither to work us weal Without a breeze, without a tide She steddies with upright keel! . The western wave was all a flame, 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 strait the Sun was fleck'd with bars. (Heaven's mother send us grace). As if thro' a dungeon grate he peer'd Alas! (thought I, and my heart beat loud) How fast she neres and neres ! Are those her Sails that glance in the Sun Like restless gossameres ? Are those her Ribs, thro' which the Sun Did peer, as thro' a grate? And are those two all, all her crew,, His bones were black with many a crack, Jet-black and bare, save where with rust They were patch'd with purple and green. Her lips were red, her looks were free, 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. |