at last whelmed by the waters which were held to surround the supposed circular flat earth. The sun was the golden apple of the garden of the Hesperides, the Golden Fleece after which Jason sailed. The poet transformed the primitive notions into charming myths, which probably had their origin from the observation of low-lying clouds floating, like islands, in a sun-flushed western sky. In this region of imagination and romance it is, perhaps, better—at any rate, it is excusable to abandon prose and take to verse. So we shall quote a modern rhymer for the explanation of "the Atlantis":
The western sky is all ablaze,
And, floating on that golden sea,
The clouds, like islands in a maze,
Blest dwelling-places seem to be.
When first this sight was viewed by man,
He thought the earth was flat, not round;
That all about its rim there ran
An ocean which the land did bound.
The poet in those early days
Immortalized the sun-flushed seas;
He peopled those far slopes and bays,
And called the isles Atlantides.
And so the legend grew until
The clouds in evening's dreamy light,
With which the poet showed his skill,
Had vanished from the mental sight;
Instead, the story true appeared,
And every sailor did his best,
While straight from port the vessels steered
For those far islands in the west.
But none returned: of all who went,
Who sight of those fair islands caught,
Through the white waves the tempest sent
The barks which shattered home were brought.
And some returned no more—but these
Were fabled to have reached the strand,
Where, anchored in luxurious ease,
Their ships will never leave the land.
The crews lie on these sunny slopes,
Purple with fruit, with vintage blest;
The ships are held by flowery ropes
In sleepy bays content to rest.
The poet steps into his boat,
The sunset makes his starting fair;
Through the long night with Death he'll float,
And in the morning he'll be there.
