As black as night--they turned to white, and cast against the cloud
A snowy sheet, as if each surge upturned a sailor's shroud:-
Still flew my boat; alas! alas! her course was nearly run!
Behold yon fatal billow rise--ten billows heaped in one!
With fearful speed the dreary mass came rolling, rolling fast,
As if the scooping sea contained one only wave at last;
Still on it came, with horrid roar, a swift pursuing grave;
It seemed as though some cloud had turned its hugeness to a wave!
Its briny sleet began to beat beforehand in my face -
I felt the rearward keel begin to climb its swelling base!
I saw its alpine hoary head impending over mine!
Another pulse--and down it rushed--an avalanche of brine!
Brief pause had I on God to cry, or think of wife and home;
The waters closed--and when I shrieked, I shrieked below the foam!
Beyond that rush I have no hint of any after-deed -
For I was tossing on the waste, as senseless as a weed.

. . . . .

"Where am I? in the breathing world, or in the world of death?"
With sharp and sudden pang I drew another birth of breath;
My eyes drank in a doubtful light, my ears a doubtful sound -
And was that ship a REAL ship whose tackle seemed around?
A moon, as if the earthly moon, was shining up aloft;
But were those beams the very beams that I have seen so oft?
A face that mocked the human face, before me watched alone;
But were those eyes the eyes of man that looked against my own?

Oh! never may the moon again disclose me such a sight
As met my gaze, when first I looked, on that accursed night!