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ATLANTIS.
XXIV.What dying prayers avail when gods revile? Burst then the terrors of the hour of doom!Ah, then how shook the river-nurtured isle, Through all its dewy vales of summer bloom! Hurled o'er its cliffs did briny surges loom,Up-gathered from the valleys of the deep; Yawned underneath the hills their weltering tomb,And waves therefrom did cedarn harvests reap;Sank glade and toppling dome, tall palm and cloven steep.
XXV.Sank—while on high the sheeted lightnings burned, And wasting clouds were white with billowy fire—Arose and sank, as yet the sea-queen yearned For empire lost; with strife of strong desire Lifting from midnight gulfs the shattered spire,The city overthrown, the fallen height; Till all revealed and shamed with ruin direThe wrath-doomed realm, slow-sinking, vanished quite,With all her pride and pomp, her beauty and her might!
