The full red moon was rising; and, in long review there passed before
it, phantom shapes of victims, led bound to altars through the groves.
Death-rattles filled the air. But a cloud descended, and all was gloom.

Again blank water spread before us; and after many days, there came a
gentle breeze, fraught with all spicy breathings; cinnamon aromas; and
in the rose-flushed evening air, like glow worms, glowed the islets,
where this incense burned.

"Sweet isles of myrh! oh crimson groves," cried Yoomy. "Woe, woe's
your fate! your brightness and your bloom, like musky fire-flies,
double-lure to death! On ye, the nations prey like bears that gorge
themselves with honey."

Swan-like, our prows sailed in among these isles; and oft we landed;
but in vain; and leaving them, we still pursued the setting sun.



CHAPTER LXIV
Concentric, Inward, With Mardi's Reef, They Leave Their Wake Around
The World


West, West! West, West! Whitherward point Hope and prophet-fingers;
whitherward, at sun-set, kneel all worshipers of fire; whitherward in
mid-ocean, the great whales turn to die; whitherward face all the
Moslem dead in Persia; whitherward lie Heaven and Hell!--West, West!
Whitherward mankind and empires--flocks, caravans, armies, navies;
worlds, suns, and stars all wend!--West, West!--Oh boundless boundary!