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ATLANTIS.
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Somewhat they seemed to see of isle and bay;Green forest, silvery fount, and sun-bright guest,Whereat in smiles they sank, with healing slumbers blest.
XV.Not fairer are the lilies; every brow In smooth repose seemed sculptured of the snow;And many a palm-tree's victor-loving bough Thereon did soft and wreathéd shadows throw. Rolled Acta's paeans o'er her fallen foe,Yet calm as restful conquerors were these, Who, pale and battle-worn, their spoils forego,Content with silence and with balmy ease,Lulled by the rustling winds, and stir of whispering seas.
XVI.White lip to lip the cavern-spirits sighed— "And shall their morning songs resound no more,Their laughter sweet the mourning zephyrs chide, When ghostly Evening flits from shore to shore?"
