SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE

��Are those her ribs 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 coldo

The naked hulk alongside came,

And the twain were casting dice;

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

Quoth she, and whistles thrice.

The Sun's rim 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 listen'd and look'd sideways up !

Fear at my heart, as at a cup,

My life-blood seem'd to sip !

The stars were dim, and thick the night,

The steersman's face by his lamp gleam'd white ;

From the sails the dew did drip

Till clomb above the eastern bar

The horned Moon, with one bright star

Within the nether tip.

One after one, by the star-dogg'd Moon, I Too quick for groan or sigh, Each turn'd his face with a ghastly pang, And cursed me with his eye.

��And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun. The Spectre- Woman and her Death-mate, and no other, on board the skeleton ship. Like vessel, like crew t

��Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner. No twilight within the courts of the Sun,

��At the rising of the Moon,

��One after another,

��63S

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