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And greetings of delighted wonder, all Went to their sleep again: and when the dawn
Came, would'st thou think that toads,
All things had put their evil nature off:
And thinning one bright bunch of amber berries,
Into the mysteries of the universe :
I saw two azure halcyons clinging down- Dizzy as with delight I floated down, Winnowing the lightsome air with languid plumes,
With quick long beaks, and in the deep there lay
Those lovely forms imaged as in a sky; So, with my thoughts full of these happy| changes,
We meet again, the happiest change of
Will look on thy more warm and equal light
Till her heart thaw like flakes of April
And love thee.
A temple, gazed upon by Phidian forms Asia. And never will we part, till Of thee, and Asia, and the Earth, and thy chaste sister Who guides the frozen and inconstant
Spirit of the Earth.
The abysses of the sky and the wide earth,
There was a change the impalpable thin air
And the all-circling sunlight were transformed,
As if the sense of love dissolved in them Had folded itself round the sphered world.
My vision then grew clear, and I could
Asia loves Prometheus?
My coursers sought their birthplace in the sun,
Where they henceforth will live exempt
Pasturing flowers of vegetable fire;
Poised on twelve columns of resplendent stone, What; as And open to the bright and liquid sky. Yoked to it by an amphisbenic snake Peace, wanton, thou art yet The likeness of those winged steeds will not old enough. Think ye by gazing on each other's eyes To multiply your lovely selves, and fill With sphered fires the interlunar air?
Spirit of the Earth. Nay, mother, while my sister trims her lamp 'Tis hard I should go darkling. Asia. Listen; look ! The SPIRIT OF THE HOUR enters. Prometheus. We feel what thou hast heard and seen: yet speak. Spirit of the Hour. Soon as the sound had ceased whose thunder filled
And you fair nymphs looking the love we feel,
In memory of the tidings it has borne,Beneath a dome fretted with graven flowers,
The flight from which they find repose.
Among the haunts and dwellings of man-
And first was disappointed not to see
With blood, and hearts broken by long hope, and love
Dragged to his altars soiled and garland-
And slain among men's unreclaiming
The painted veil, by those who were,
Which mimicked, as with colours idly
Of the Father of many a cancelled year!
Of the dead Hours be,
The loathsome mask has fallen, the man We bear Time to his tomb in eternity. remains
Sceptreless, free, uncircumscribed, but
less, Exempt from awe, worship, degree, the king
Over himself; just, gentle, wise: but
Passionless; no, yet free from guilt or
Strew, oh, strew
Equal, unclassed, tribeless, and nation- Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew!
Of Death's bare bowers
Spread on the corpse of the King of
Nor yet exempt, tho' ruling them like
From chance, and death, and mutability,
The loftiest star of unascended heaven,
END OF THE THIRD ACT
SCENE, A PART OF THE FOREST NEAR
For the sun, their swift shepherd,
Beyond his blue dwelling,
Voice of unseen Spirits.
A Train of dark Forms and Shadows passes by confusedly, singing.
Here, oh, here:
We bear the bier
Haste, oh, haste!
As shades are chased,
Trembling, by day, from heaven's blue
We melt away,
Of winds that die
On the bosom of their own harmony!
From the conquest but One could foil.
They have past;
Whither, oh, whither?
To the dark, to the past, to the dead.
Bright clouds float in heaven,
They shake with emotion,
The pine boughs are singing
Once the hungry Hours were hounds Which chased the day like a bleeding deer,
Fresh music are flinging,
Like the notes of a spirit from land and And it limped and stumbled with many
Semichorus of Hours.
Have drawn back the figured curtain of sleep
Which covered our being and darkened our birth
In the deep.
In the deep?
We have heard the lute of Hope in sleep; We have known the voice of Love in dreams,
We have felt the wand of Power, and leap
Oh, below the deep.
An hundred ages we had been kept
Found the truth
Semichorus II. As the billows leap in the morning beams!
Pierce with song heaven's silent light, Enchant the day that too swiftly flees, To check its flight ere the cave of night.
Through the nightly dells of the desart year.
But now, oh weave the mystic measure Of music, and dance, and shapes of light,
Let the Hours, and the spirits of might and pleasure,
Like the clouds and sunbeams, unite.
Panthea. See, where the Spirits of the human mind
Wrapt in sweet sounds, as in bright veils, approach.
Chorus of Spirits.
We join the throng
Of the dance and the song,
By the whirlwind of gladness borne along;
And mix with the sea-birds, half asleep.
Chorus of Hours.
Whence come ye, so wild and so flect, Worse than his visions were! For sandals of lightning are on your feet,