Ambergris

88 AMBERGRIS FROM THE STAR AND THE GARTER Song To sea ! To sea ! The ship is trim ; The breezes bend the sails. They chant the necromantic hymn, Arouse Arabian tales ! To sea ! Before us leap the waves ; The wild white combers follow. Invoke, ye melancholy slaves, The morning of Apollo ! There’s phosphorescence in the wake, And starlight o’er the prow ; One comet, like an angry snake, Lifts up its hooded brow. The black grows grey toward the East : A hint of silver glows. Gods gather to the mystic feast On interlunar snows. The moon is up full-orbed : she glides Striking a snaky ray Across the black resounding tides, The sepulchre of day. The moon is up : upon the prow We stand and watch the moon. A star is lustred on your brow ; Your lips begin a tune, A long, low tune of love that swells Little by little, and lights