At length did cross an Albatross,
Thorough the fog it came;
As if it had been a Christian soul,
We hailed it in God’s name.
It ate the food it ne’er had eat,
And round and round it flew.
The ice did split with a thunder-fit;
The helmsman steered us through!
And a good south wind sprung up behind;
The Albatross did follow,
And every day, for food or play,
Came to the mariners’ hollo!
In mist or cloud, on mast or shroud,
It perched for vespers nine;
Whiles all the night, through fog-smoke white,
Glimmered the white Moon-shine.
Illustration du poème par Gustave Doré

“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;
Continuer la lecture de “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” (Samuel Tayor Coleridge)