Demogorgon: Behold!

ASIA:The rocks are cloven, and through the purple nightI see cars drawn by rainbow-winged steedsWhich trample the dim winds: in each there standsA wild-eyed charioteer urging their flight.Some look behind, as fiends pursued them there,And yet I see no shapes but the keen stars:Others, with burning eyes, lean forth, and drinkWith eager lips the wind of their own speed,As if the thing they loved fled on before,And now, even now, they clasped it. Their bright locksStream like a comet's flashing hair; they allSweep onward.

DEMOGORGON:These are the immortal Hours,Of whom thou didst demand. One waits for thee.

ASIA:A Spirit with a dreadful countenanceChecks its dark chariot by the craggy gulf.Unlike thy brethren, ghastly charioteer,Who art thou? Whither wouldst thou bear me? Speak!

SPIRIT:I am the shadow of a destinyMore dread than is my aspect: ere yon planetHas set, the darkness which ascends with meShall wrap in lasting night heaven's kingless throne.

ASIA:What meanest thou?

PANTHEA:That terrible shadow floatsUp from its throne, as may the lurid smokeOf earthquake-ruined cities o'er the sea.Lo! it ascends the car; the coursers flyTerrified: watch its path among the starsBlackening the night!

ASIA:Thus I am answered: strange!

PANTHEA:See, near the verge, another chariot stays;An ivory shell inlaid with crimson fire,Which comes and goes within its sculptured rimOf delicate strange tracery; the young spiritThat guides it has the dove-like eyes of hope;How its soft smiles attract the soul! as lightLures winged insects through the lampless air.

SPIRIT:My coursers are fed with the lightning,They drink of the whirlwind's stream,And when the red morning is bright'ningThey bathe in the fresh sunbeam;They have strength for their swiftness I deem;Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean.I desire: and their speed makes night kindle;I fear: they outstrip the Typhoon;Ere the cloud piled on Atlas can dwindleWe encircle the earth and the moon:We shall rest from long labours at noon:Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean.

SCENE 2.5:

SPIRIT:On the brink of the night and the morningMy coursers are wont to respire;But the Earth has just whispered a warningThat their flight must be swifter than fire:They shall drink the hot speed of desire!

ASIA:Thou breathest on their nostrils, but my breathWould give them swifter speed.

SPIRIT:Alas! it could not.

PANTHEA:Oh Spirit! pause, and tell whence is the lightWhich fills this cloud? the sun is yet unrisen.

SPIRIT:The sun will rise not until noon. ApolloIs held in heaven by wonder; and the lightWhich fills this vapour, as the aereal hueOf fountain-gazing roses fills the water,Flows from thy mighty sister.

PANTHEA:Yes, I feel--

ASIA:What is it with thee, sister? Thou art pale.

PANTHEA:How thou art changed! I dare not look on thee;I feel but see thee not. I scarce endureThe radiance of thy beauty. Some good changeIs working in the elements, which sufferThy presence thus unveiled. The Nereids tellThat on the day when the clear hyalineWas cloven at thine uprise, and thou didst standWithin a veined shell, which floated onOver the calm floor of the crystal sea,Among the Aegean isles, and by the shoresWhich bear thy name; love, like the atmosphereOf the sun's fire filling the living world,Burst from thee, and illumined earth and heavenAnd the deep ocean and the sunless cavesAnd all that dwells within them; till grief castEclipse upon the soul from which it came:Such art thou now; nor is it I alone,Thy sister, thy companion, thine own chosen one,But the whole world which seeks thy sympathy.Hearest thou not sounds i' the air which speak the loveOf all articulate beings? Feelest thou notThe inanimate winds enamoured of thee? List!

ASIA:Thy words are sweeter than aught else but hisWhose echoes they are; yet all love is sweet,Given or returned. Common as light is love,And its familiar voice wearies not ever.Like the wide heaven, the all-sustaining air,It makes the reptile equal to the God:They who inspire it most are fortunate,As I am now; but those who feel it mostAre happier still, after long sufferings,As I shall soon become.

PANTHEA:List! Spirits speak.

Life of Life! thy lips enkindleWith their love the breath between them;And thy smiles before they dwindleMake the cold air fire; then screen themIn those looks, where whoso gazesFaints, entangled in their mazes.

Child of Light! thy limbs are burningThrough the vest which seems to hide them;As the radiant lines of morningThrough the clouds ere they divide them;And this atmosphere divinestShrouds thee wheresoe'er thou shinest.

Fair are others; none beholds thee,But thy voice sounds low and tenderLike the fairest, for it folds theeFrom the sight, that liquid splendour,And all feel, yet see thee never,As I feel now, lost for ever!

Lamp of Earth! where'er thou movestIts dim shapes are clad with brightness,And the souls of whom thou lovestWalk upon the winds with lightness,Till they fail, as I am failing,Dizzy, lost, yet unbewailing!

ASIA:My soul is an enchanted boat,Which, like a sleeping swan, doth floatUpon the silver waves of thy sweet singing;And thine doth like an angel sitBeside a helm conducting it,Whilst all the winds with melody are ringing.It seems to float ever, for ever,Upon that many-winding river,Between mountains, woods, abysses,A paradise of wildernesses!Till, like one in slumber bound,Borne to the ocean, I float down, around,Into a sea profound, of ever-spreading sound:

Meanwhile thy spirit lifts its pinionsIn music's most serene dominions;Catching the winds that fan that happy heaven.And we sail on, away, afar,Without a course, without a star,But, by the instinct of sweet music driven;Till through Elysian garden isletsBy thee most beautiful of pilots,Where never mortal pinnace glided,The boat of my desire is guided:Realms where the air we breathe is love,Which in the winds on the waves doth move,Harmonizing this earth with what we feel above.

We have passed Age's icy caves,And Manhood's dark and tossing waves,And Youth's smooth ocean, smiling to betray:Beyond the glassy gulfs we fleeOf shadow-peopled Infancy,Through Death and Birth, to a diviner day;A paradise of vaulted bowers,Lit by downward-gazing flowers,And watery paths that wind betweenWildernesses calm and green,Peopled by shapes too bright to see,And rest, having beheld; somewhat like thee;Which walk upon the sea, and chant melodiously!