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ATLANTIS.
37
No more shall Acta's sons their wealth withhold."And lance was wrought, with halberd, shield and thong,Mid clang of steel and brass and burst of battle-song.
X.In turbulent haste the caverned hills were rent, Their marble pillars cleft and overturned,Their firm rocks torn from gorge and deep descent, Till all revealed their golden bases burned. Vainly the lofty oak his fellows spurned—Rived, from his lordly height, he, shrieking, fell; Full soon the strong-built ships for ocean yearned,With flashing prows that did the surf repel,And wavering sails wherein the fair winds sought to dwell.
XI.Dawned there a morn, and all with one accord Their peaceful garb aside the people cast;Their voiceful legions trod the lilied sward,
