This page has been validated.
ATLANTIS.
59
"My bride," he sang, "the golden land be ours!
Aflush with fruit its vines shall sunward climb:
Herein shall swift hands build our glittering towers,
Where bards shall chant their heaven-taught lore sublime;
Nor hand along the wall nor scripture threat of Time.
Aflush with fruit its vines shall sunward climb:
Herein shall swift hands build our glittering towers,
Where bards shall chant their heaven-taught lore sublime;
Nor hand along the wall nor scripture threat of Time.
III.
"While blissful cycles rise and disappear,
Shall vaunting Death the beauteous realm forego:
Its stars shall shine though fleet year follow year,
Through bounteous vales its crystal rivers flow.
On all its dazzling mountain-peaks of snow
Shall blaze the beacons of celestial day;
From verge to verge their sun-lit fires shall glow,
Pierce the dun mists and burn the shades away:
Therewith shall field and flood themselves in light array."
"While blissful cycles rise and disappear,
Shall vaunting Death the beauteous realm forego:
Its stars shall shine though fleet year follow year,
Through bounteous vales its crystal rivers flow.
On all its dazzling mountain-peaks of snow
Shall blaze the beacons of celestial day;
From verge to verge their sun-lit fires shall glow,
Pierce the dun mists and burn the shades away:
Therewith shall field and flood themselves in light array."
