Zophiel, with toil severe, But bliss in view, through the thrice murky night, Sped swiftly on. A treasure now more dear He had to guard, than boldest hope had dared To breathe for years; but rougher grew the way; And soft Phraerion, shrinking back and scared At every whirling depth, wept for his flowers and day. Shivered, and pained, and shrieking, as the waves Wildly impel them 'gainst the jutting rocks; Not all the care and strength of Zophiel saves His tender guide from half the wildering shocks He bore. The calm, which favored their descent, And bade them look upon their task as o'er, Was past; and now the inmost earth seemed rent With such fierce storms as never raged before. Of a long mortal life had the whole pain Essenced in one consummate pang, been borne, Known, and survived, its still would be in vain To try to paint the pains felt by these sprites forlorn. The precious drop closed in its hollow spar, Between his lips Zophiel in triumph bore. Now, earth and sea seem shaken! Dashed afar He feels it part;--'tis dropt;--the waters roar, He sees it in a sable vortex whirling, Formed by a cavern vast, that 'neath the sea, Sucks the fierce torrent in. The furious storm has been raised by the power of his betrayer and persecutor, and in gloomy desperation Zophiel rises with the frail Phraerion to the upper air: Black clouds, in mass deform, Were frowning; yet a moment's calm was there, As it had stopped to breathe awhile the storm. Their white feet pressed the desert sod; they shook From their bright locks the briny drops; nor stayed Zophiel on ills, present or past, to look. But his flight toward Medea is stayed by a renewal of the tempest-- Loud and more loud the blast; in mingled gyre, Flew leaves and stones; and with a deafening crash Fell the uprooted trees; heaven seemed on fire-- Not, as 'tis wont, with intermitting flash, But, like an ocean all of liquid flame, The whole broad arch gave one continuous glare, While through the red light from their prowling came The frighted beasts, and ran, but could not find a lair. At length comes a shock, as if the earth crashed against some other planet, and they are thrown amazed and prostrate upon the heath. Zophiel, Too fierce for fear, uprose; yet ere for flight in a mood Served his torn wings, a form before him stood In gloomy majesty. Like starless night, A sable mantle fell in cloudy fold From its stupendous breast; and as it trod The pale and lurid light at distance rolled Before its princely feet, receding on the sod.