The HesperidesHesperus and his daughters threeThat sing about the golden tree.—(Comus).The Northwind fall’n, in the newstarred nightZidonian Hanno, voyaging beyondThe hoary promontory of SoloëPast Thymiaterion, in calmèd bays,Between the Southern and the Western Horn,Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,Nor melody o’ the Lybian lotusfluteBlown seaward from the shore; but from a slopeThat ran bloombright into the Atlantic blue,Beneath a highland leaning down a weightOf cliffs, and zoned below with cedarshade,Came voices, like the voices in a dream,Continuous, till he reached the other sea.
Hesperus and his daughters threeThat sing about the golden tree.—(Comus).
The Northwind fall’n, in the newstarred nightZidonian Hanno, voyaging beyondThe hoary promontory of SoloëPast Thymiaterion, in calmèd bays,Between the Southern and the Western Horn,Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,Nor melody o’ the Lybian lotusfluteBlown seaward from the shore; but from a slopeThat ran bloombright into the Atlantic blue,Beneath a highland leaning down a weightOf cliffs, and zoned below with cedarshade,Came voices, like the voices in a dream,Continuous, till he reached the other sea.