Heaving over tree-trunks, gasping, damning at the flies and heat,
Longing for a long drink, out of silver, in the ship’s cool lazareet.
The moon came white and ghostly as we laid the treasure down,
There was gear there’d make a beggarman as [rich as Lima Town],
Copper charms and silver trinkets from the chests of Spanish crews,
Gold doubloons and double moydores, louis d’ors and ortagues.
Clumsy yellow-metal earrings from the Indians of Brazil,
Uncut emeralds out of Rio, bezoar stone from Guayaquil,
Silver, [in the crude and fashioned], pots of old Arica bronze,
Jewels from the bones of Incas desecrated by the Dons.