No bigger than the Moon.

71-78. And lo! the Albatross proveth a bird of good omen, and followeth the ship as it returned northward through fog and floating ice.

79-82. The ancient Mariner inhospitably killeth the pious bird of good omen.

83-96. His shipmates cry out against the ancient Mariner, for killing the bird of good luck.

97-102. But when the fog cleared off, they justify the same, and thus make themselves accomplices in the crime. 103-106. The fair breeze continues; the ship enters the Pacific Ocean, and sails northward, even till it reaches the line.

107-118. The ship hath been suddenly becalmed.

The ship having rounded the Horn, is now sailing North.

And still it neared and neared:
As if it dodged a water-sprite,

It plunged and tacked and veered.

155

119-130. And the Albatross begins to be avenged. 131-138. A spirit had followed them; one of the invisible inhabitants of this planet, neither departed souls nor angels; concerning whom the learned Jew, Josephus, and the Platonic Constantinopolitan Michael Psellus, may be consulted. They are very numerous, and there is no climate or element without one or more.

139-142. The shipmates, in their sore distress would fain throw the whole guilt on the ancient Mariner; in sign whereof they hang the dead sea-bird round his neck.

143-156. The ancient Mariner beholdeth a sign in the element afar off.

The spirit of the South Polar region, who loved the Albatross.

164-166. A flash of joy.

167-176. And horror follows; for can it be a ship that comes onward without wind or tide?

177-186. It seemeth him but the skeleton of a ship. And its ribs are seen as bars on the face of the setting Sun.

187-194. The Spectre-Woman and her death-mate, and no other on board the skeleton ship. Like vessel, like crew! 195-198. Death and Life-in-Death have diced for the ship's crew, and she (the latter) winneth the ancient Mariner. 199-202. No twilight within the courts of the Sun.

I closed my lids, and kept them close,
And the balls like pulses beat;

For the sky and the sea, and the sea and the sky

Lay like a load on my weary eye,
And the dead were at my feet.

250

203-223. At the rising of the Moon, one after another; his shipmates drop down dead. But Life-in-Death begins her work on the ancient Mariner.

224-235. The Wedding-Guest feareth that a spirit is talking to him; but the ancient Mariner assureth him of his bodily life, and proceedeth to relate his horrible penance.

236-252. He despiseth the creatures of the calm, and envieth that they should live, and so many lie dead.

253-262. But the curse liveth for him in the eye of the dead men.

263-271. In his loneliness and firedness he yearneth towards the journeying Moon, and the stars that still sojourn, yet still move onward; and everywhere the blue sky belongs to them, and is their appointed rest, and their native country and their own natural homes, which they enter unannounced, as lords that are certainly expected and yet there is a silent joy at their arrival.

272-281. By the light of the Moon he beholdeth God's creatures of the great calm.

282-283. Their beauty and their happiness. 284-287. He blesseth them in his heart.

288-291. The spell begins to break.

292-308. By grace of the holy Mother, the ancient Mariner is refreshed with rain.

The body of my brother's son
Stood by me, knee to knee:
The body and I pulled at one rope
But he said nought to me.

309-326. He heareth sounds and seeth strange sights and commotions in the sky and the element

327-376. The bodies of the ship's crew are inspired, and the ship moves on; but not by the souls of the men, nor by dæmons of earth or middle air, but by a blessed troop of angelic spirits, sent down by the invocation of the guardian

saint.

Possibly foolish, or ridiculous, because they "had so long remained" useless.