Samuel Taylor Coleridge

The ship was cheered, the harbour cleared,
Merrily did we drop
Below the kirk, below the hill,
Below the light-house top

"God save thee, ancient Mariner!
From the fiends, that plague thee thus!—
Why look'st thou so?"—With my cross-bow
I shot the ALBATROSS.

For all averred, I had killed the bird
That made the breeze to blow

Had I from old and young!
Instead of the cross, the Albatross
About my neck was hung.