SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

��The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails north ward, even till it Breaches the Line.

The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.

��And the Alba tross begins to be avenged.

��The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow follow'd free;

We were the first that ever burst

Into that silent sea.

Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be ; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea !

All in a hot and copper sky, The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand, No bigger than the Moon.

Day after day, day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion ; As idle as a painted ship Upon a painted ocean.

Water, water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink; Water, water, everywhere, Nor any drop to drink.

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

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.

�� �