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ATLANTIS.
19
Those glowing shapes of beauteous godship hide:But brow and breast and limb of ivory shone Fair as the milk-white moons that rise and glideO'er distant Herschel's night-involvèd zone,And bid admiring spheres their veiling shades disown.
X.Now grows the dim world voluble: the dells With choral ranks of forest-dwellers gleam;And fountain-nymphs, who peal their silver bells, That make the sleeping hills of echoes dream. Sweetly the hours from silence they redeem—They cry "Athena comes! Behold, behold The silver stars that o'er her break and beam!Green olives high their singing boughs uphold;They hail her Acta's queen with voices manifold."
XI.Slow-waving flowers arise, as if the Spring Had blown his reedy music far and wide—
