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ATLANTIS.
45
IV.Straight flashed the steely barb; with borrowed fire Shone burnished mail and golden-hilted glaive:Slept on the sunny turf the fallen lyre; And tocsin-peal, and blare of cornet brave, And beaten tabret did the winds enslave:Up from their homes the hurrying people pressed, With wandering eyes that scanned the rolling wave,Or pierced the vaulty azure of the West,And sought, they knew not what, or, trembling, dimly guessed.
V.Perchance no more than darkness of eclipse, Or silver star beyond his fellows whirled;Or far fantastic forms of mimic ships, With frail, ethereal sails in air unfurled: Or if Destruction o'er a darkening world,Sped by the angry gods should whet his blade, Ere yet the dire-impending wrath were hurled,Might fair Athena, swift her sons to aid,Arrest his crimson arm and bid their doom be stayed.
