His throat was black, his vest the same, and when I look'd beneath,

His breast was black—all, all, was black, except his grinning teeth.

His sooty crew were like in hue, as black as Afric slaves!

Oh, horror! e'en the ship was black that plough'd the inky waves!

"Alas!" I cried, "for love of truth and blessed mercy's sake,

Where am I? in what dreadful ship? upon what dreadful lake?"

"What shape is that, so very grim, and black as any coal?

It is Mahound, the Evil One, and he has gain'd my soul!

Oh, mother dear! my tender nurse! dear meadows that beguil'd

My happy days, when I was yet a little sinless child,—