At its nearer

approach.it seemeth him to be a ship ; and at a dear ransom he freeth his speech from the bonds of thirst.

��SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

With throats unslaked, with black lips baked,

We could nor laugh nor wail ;

Through utter drought all dumb we stood !

I bit my arm, I suck'd the blood,

And cried, A sail ! a sail !

�� ��With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call : A flash of joy; Gramercy ! they for joy did grin,

And all at once their breath drew in, As they were drinking all.

��See ! see ! (I cried) she tacks no more !

��And horror

follows. For TT- i i i

can it be a -Hither to work us weal

a^iZut Without wind or tide?

��bre eze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel!

��The western wave was all aflame,

The day was wellnigh done !

Almost upon the western wave

Rested the broad, bright Sun ;

When that strange shape drove suddenly

Betwixt us and the Sun.

��It seemeth him And straight the Sun was fleck'd with bars (Heaven's Mother send us grace!), As if through a dungeon-grate he peer'd With broad and burning face.

Alas ! (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 ?

�� �