Page:Lyrical ballads, Volume 1, Wordsworth, 1800.djvu/212

160 In mist or cloud on mast or shroud

It perch'd for vespers nine,

Whiles all the night thro' fog-smoke white

Glimmer'd the white moon-shine.

"God save thee, ancient Mariner!

"From the fiends that plague thee thus—

"Why look'st thou so?"—with my cross bow

I shot the Albatross.