Sailed by without a sound.
And all about,—now in, now out,—
Their ancient hulls, was shed
The worm-like glow of green decay,
That writhed and glimmered in the gray
Of canvas overhead.
And each that passed, in hull and mast,
Seemed that wild ship that flees
Before the tempest—seamen tell—
Deep-cargoed with the curse of Hell,