Hesperus and his daughters three
That sing about the golden tree.
The North-wind fall'n, in the new starréd night
Zidonian Hanno, voyaging beyond
The hoary promontory of Soloë
Past Thymiaterion, in calméd bays,
Between the Southern and the western Horn,
Heard neither warbling of the nightingale,
Nor melody of the Lybian lotus flute
Blown seaward from the shore; but from a slope
That ran bloom-bright into the Atlantic blue,
Beneath a highland leaning down a weight
Of cliffs, and zoned below with cedar shade,
Came voices, like the voices in a dream,
Continuous, till he reached the other sea.
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