108 
AMBERGRIS 
In the snare of bewildering fancies.  We capture 
Delight in the toils of a tress 
Rough gilded of sunlight and umber with virginal 
shadows of slumber 
Ah !  sorrow, regress ! 
 
Till the idle abyss of eternity swoon to our pinions 
With music of wings as we fly 
Through the azure of dreams, and the purple of 
mighty dominions 
Exalted, afoam in the sky ; 
And to us it were wiser and sweeter to ruin the 
race of the metre, 
And song were to die.