Page:Sibylline Leaves (Coleridge).djvu/34

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12

THE RIME OF THE ANCIENT MARINER.

PART THE THIRD.

There passed a weary time. Each throat
Was parched, and glazed each eye.
A weary time! a weary time!
How glazed each weary eye!
The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.When looking westward, I beheld
A something in the sky.

At first it seem'd a little speck,
And then it seem'd a mist;
It moved and moved, and took at last
A certain 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 tack'd and veer'd.