PANTHEA: These solid mountains quiver with the sound Even as the tremulous air: their shadows make The space within my plumes more black than night. FIRST FURY: Your call was as a winged car, _525 Driven on whirlwinds fast and far; It rapped us from red gulfs of war. SECOND FURY: From wide cities, famine-wasted; THIRD FURY: Groans half heard, and blood untasted; FOURTH FURY: Kingly conclaves stern and cold, _530 Where blood with gold is bought and sold; FIFTH FURY: From the furnace, white and hot, In which-- A FURY: Speak not: whisper not: I know all that ye would tell, But to speak might break the spell _535 Which must bend the Invincible, The stern of thought; He yet defies the deepest power of Hell. FURY: Tear the veil! ANOTHER FURY: It is torn. CHORUS: The pale stars of the morn Shine on a misery, dire to be borne. _540 Dost thou faint, mighty Titan? We laugh thee to scorn. Dost thou boast the clear knowledge thou waken'dst for man? Then was kindled within him a thirst which outran Those perishing waters; a thirst of fierce fever, Hope, love, doubt, desire, which consume him for ever. _545 One came forth of gentle worth Smiling on the sanguine earth; His words outlived him, like swift poison Withering up truth, peace, and pity. Look! where round the wide horizon _550 Many a million-peopled city Vomits smoke in the bright air. Mark that outcry of despair! 'Tis his mild and gentle ghost Wailing for the faith he kindled: _555 Look again, the flames almost To a glow-worm's lamp have dwindled: The survivors round the embers Gather in dread. Joy, joy, joy! _560 Past ages crowd on thee, but each one remembers, And the future is dark, and the present is spread Like a pillow of thorns for thy slumberless head. NOTE: _553 Hark B; Mark 1820. SEMICHORUS 1: Drops of bloody agony flow From his white and quivering brow. _565 Grant a little respite now: See a disenchanted nation Springs like day from desolation; To Truth its state is dedicate, And Freedom leads it forth, her mate; _570 A legioned band of linked brothers Whom Love calls children-- SEMICHORUS 2: 'Tis another's: See how kindred murder kin: 'Tis the vintage-time for death and sin: Blood, like new wine, bubbles within: _575 Till Despair smothers The struggling world, which slaves and tyrants win. [ALL THE FURIES VANISH, EXCEPT ONE.] IONE: Hark, sister! what a low yet dreadful groan Quite unsuppressed is tearing up the heart Of the good Titan, as storms tear the deep, _580 And beasts hear the sea moan in inland caves. Darest thou observe how the fiends torture him?