NOTES: _121 flight B, edition 1839; light 1820. _173 These B; Those 1820. _187 amid B; among 1820. _192 or B; and 1820. END OF ACT 3. ACT 4. SCENE 4.1: A PART OF THE FOREST NEAR THE CAVE OF PROMETHEUS. PANTHEA AND IONE ARE SLEEPING: THEY AWAKEN GRADUALLY DURING THE FIRST SONG. VOICE OF UNSEEN SPIRITS: The pale stars are gone! For the sun, their swift shepherd, To their folds them compelling, In the depths of the dawn, Hastes, in meteor-eclipsing array, and the flee _5 Beyond his blue dwelling, As fawns flee the leopard. But where are ye? [A TRAIN OF DARK FORMS AND SHADOWS PASSES BY CONFUSEDLY, SINGING.] Here, oh, here: We bear the bier _10 Of the father of many a cancelled year! Spectres we Of the dead Hours be, We bear Time to his tomb in eternity. Strew, oh, strew _15 Hair, not yew! Wet the dusty pall with tears, not dew! Be the faded flowers Of Death's bare bowers Spread on the corpse of the King of Hours! _20 Haste, oh, haste! As shades are chased, Trembling, by day, from heaven's blue waste. We melt away, Like dissolving spray, _25 From the children of a diviner day, With the lullaby Of winds that die On the bosom of their own harmony! IONE: What dark forms were they? _30 PANTHEA: The past Hours weak and gray, With the spoil which their toil Raked together From the conquest but One could foil. IONE: Have they passed? PANTHEA: They have passed; _35 They outspeeded the blast, While 'tis said, they are fled: IONE: Whither, oh, whither? PANTHEA: To the dark, to the past, to the dead. VOICE OF UNSEEN SPIRITS: Bright clouds float in heaven, _40 Dew-stars gleam on earth, Waves assemble on ocean, They are gathered and driven By the storm of delight, by the panic of glee! They shake with emotion, _45 They dance in their mirth. But where are ye? The pine boughs are singing Old songs with new gladness, The billows and fountains _50 Fresh music are flinging, Like the notes of a spirit from land and from sea; The storms mock the mountains With the thunder of gladness. But where are ye? _55 IONE: What charioteers are these? PANTHEA: Where are their chariots? SEMICHORUS OF HOURS: The voice of the Spirits of Air and of Earth Has drawn back the figured curtain of sleep Which covered our being and darkened our birth In the deep. A VOICE: In the deep? SEMICHORUS 2: Oh, below the deep. _60