Thou hast the starry gems, the burning gold,
Won from ten thousand royal Argosies.—
Sweep o’er thy spoils, thou wild and wrathful main!
Earth claims not these again.
Yet more, the depths have more! Thy waves have roll’d
Above the cities of a world gone by!
Sand hath fill’d up the palaces of old,
Sea-weed o’ergrown the halls of revelry.—
Dash o’er them, ocean! in thy scornful play:
Man yields them to decay.