Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1900.djvu/657

 In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud, It perch'd for vespers nine; Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white, Glimmer'd the white moonshine.'

'God save thee, ancient Mariner, From the fiends, that plague thee thus!— Why look'st thou so?'—'With my crossbow I shot the Albatross.

'The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he, Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind still blew behind, But no sweet bird did follow, Nor any day for food or play Came to the mariners' hollo!

And I had done a hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe: For all averr'd I had kill'd the bird That made the breeze to blow. Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay, That made the breeze to blow!

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averr'd I had kill'd the bird That brought the fog and mist. 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist.