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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-bowI shot the ALBATROSS; https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tYKl41e_hoUThe Sun now rose upon the right:Out of the sea came he,Still hid in mist, and on the leftWent down into the sea. And the good south wind still blew behind,But no sweet bird did follow,Nor any day for food or playCame to the mariner’s hollo! And I had done a hellish thing,And it would work ’em woe:For all averred, I had killed the birdThat made the breeze to blow.Ah wretch! said they, the bird to slay,That made the breeze to blow!  Ivan Aivazovsky, La colère de la mer, 1886Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist: Then all averred, I had killed the bird That brought the fog and mist. 'Twas right, said they, such birds to slay, That bring the fog and mist. The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,The furrow followed free; We were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea. Down dropt the breeze, the sails dropt down, 'Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak only to break The silence of the sea ! Ivan Aivazovsky, DélugeAll in a hot and copper sky,The bloody Sun, at noon, Right up above the mast did stand,No bigger than the Moon. Joseph Mallord William Turner, Pêcheurs en mer, 1796Day after day, day after day,We stuck, nor breath nor motion;As idle as a painted shipUpon a painted oceanWater, water, every where,And all the boards did shrink;Water, water, every where,Nor any drop to drink. The very deep did rot: O Christ!That ever this should be!Yea, slimy things did crawl with legsUpon the slimy sea. About, about, in reel and routThe death-fires danced at night;The water, like a witch's oils,Burnt green, and blue and white. Luis Ricardo Falero, La vision de Faust, 1878