The Rime of the Ancient Mariner

ISBN-13: 9781540413833 / Angielski / Miękka / 2016 / 28 str.

Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Opis

tain shape, I wist. A speck, a mist, a shape, I wist And still it neared and neared: As if it dodged a water-sprite, It plunged and tacked and veered. With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, We could not laugh nor wail; Through utter drought all dumb we stood I bit my arm, I sucked the blood, And cried, A sail a sail With throats unslaked, with black lips baked, Agape they heard me call: 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 Hither to work us weal; Without a breeze, without a tide, She steadies with upright keel The western wave was all a-flame The day was well nigh done Almost upon the western wave Rested the broad bright Sun; When that strange shape drove suddenly Betwixt us and the Sun. And straight the Sun was flecked with bars, (Heaven's Mother send us grace ) As if through a dungeon