A star-lit dome, of amber foam,
Loomed in the liquid blue,
Where reigned of old, on thrones of gold,
The Incas of Peru.
The midnight moans, and phrensied groans,
Of miners near their last,
In tones that cursed the gold they nursed
Came trembling on the blast.
While one apart, with gentler heart,
His still tears dashed aside,