Or the red mists from the marshes mocked the navigator’s law.
Glimpsed we evanescent channels, marked by flares upon a wreck,
But the channels shoaled to shallows ere the tops could hail the deck.
Yet we won to realization that the ports long sought in vain,
Were illusive as the May moths or the madrigals of Spain;
And that only charts from China, drawn by wizards full of wiles,
Would give the proper bearings for the Salamander Isles.