Along this lonesome dried-up sea.
White Azteckee, give up to me
Of all thy prison'd dead but one,
That now lies bleaching in the sun,
To tell what strange allurements lie
Within this dried-up oldest sea,
To tempt men to its heart and die.
Old, hoar, and dried-up sea! so old!
So strewn with wealth, so sown with gold!
Yea, thou art old and hoary white