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ATLANTIS.
57
XXVI.
Rolled over all the devastating floods:
No more shall lovers haunt the babbling rills;
No more shall Summer dress her golden buds,
Or wind her misty wreaths among the hills;
No more shall breezy night be sweet with trills,
In light, delicious, music-morsels tossed:
But still the sea-born kings recount their ills,
Nor evermore their mournful theme exhaust,
Of all thine ancient worth, thou island loved and lost!
Rolled over all the devastating floods:
No more shall lovers haunt the babbling rills;
No more shall Summer dress her golden buds,
Or wind her misty wreaths among the hills;
No more shall breezy night be sweet with trills,
In light, delicious, music-morsels tossed:
But still the sea-born kings recount their ills,
Nor evermore their mournful theme exhaust,
Of all thine ancient worth, thou island loved and lost!
XXVII.
By torrid shores they breathe their constant plea—
"Arise, O thou of majesty serene!
Break from the prison-chambers of the sea,
Come forth in all thy jeweled garments green!"
And where, full far, the arctic ships careen,
Through ice-wrought caves their wailing sorrows swell:
"Where are thy templed hills, O fallen queen?
Arise, Atlantis, thou who didst excel!"
Light winds their voices waste:—proud isle of Eld, farewell.
By torrid shores they breathe their constant plea—
"Arise, O thou of majesty serene!
Break from the prison-chambers of the sea,
Come forth in all thy jeweled garments green!"
And where, full far, the arctic ships careen,
Through ice-wrought caves their wailing sorrows swell:
"Where are thy templed hills, O fallen queen?
Arise, Atlantis, thou who didst excel!"
Light winds their voices waste:—proud isle of Eld, farewell.
