A voice.

Semichorus II.

In the deep?

Oh, below the deep.

Semichorus I. A hundred ages we had been kept
Cradled in visions of hate and care,

And each one who waked as his brother slept
Found the truth.

Semichorus II. Worse than his visions were!
Semichorus I. 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 leapSemichorus II. As the billows leap in the morning beams!

Chorus. Weave the dance on the floor of the breeze,
Pierce with song heaven's silent light,
Enchant the day that too swiftly flees,
To check its flight ere the cave of night.

Once the hungry Hours were hounds

Which chased the day like a bleeding deer, And it limped and stumbled with many wounds Through the nightly dells of the desert 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.

Pun. 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 ;
As the flying-fish leap

From the Indian deep,

And mix with the sea-birds, half asleep.

Chorus of Hours. Whence come ye, so wild and so fleet,
For sandals of lightning are on your feet,

And your wings are soft and swift as thought,
And your eyes are as love which is veiled not >

Chorus of Spirits. We come from the mind
Of human kind,

Which was late so dusk, and obscene, and blind:
Now 'tis an ocean

Of clear emotion,

A heaven of serene and mighty motion.

From that deep abyss

Of wonder and bliss,

Whose caverns are crystal palaces;
From those skiey towers

Where Thought's crowned powers

Sit watching your dance, ye happy Hours!

From the dim recesses

Of woven caresses,

Where lovers catch ye by your loose tresses;
From the azure isles

Where sweet Wisdom smiles,

Delaying your ships with her syren wiles.

From the temples high
Of Man's ear and eye,

Roofed over Sculpture and Poesy;

From the murmurings

Of the unsealed springs

Where Science bedews his Dædal wings.

Years after years,

Through blood and tearr,

And a thick hell of hatreds, and hopes, and fears;
We waded and flew,

And the islets were few

Where the bud-blighted flowers of happiness grew

Our feet now, every palm,

Are sandall'd with calm,

And the dew of our wings is a reign of balm
And, beyond our eyes,

The human love lies

Which makes all it gazes on Paradise.

Chorus of Spirits and Hours.

Then weave the web of the mystic measure;
From the depths of the sky and the ends of the earth
Come, swift Spirits of might and of pleasure,
Fill the dance and the music of mirth,

As the waves of a thousand streams rush by
To an ocean of splendour and harmony!

Chorus of Spirits. Our spoil is won,
Our task is done,

We are free to dive, or soar, or run:
Beyond and around,

Or within the bound

Which clips the world with darkness round

We'll pass the eyes

Of the starry skies

Into the hoar deep to colonize :
Death, Chaos, and Night,

From the sound of our flight,

Shall flee, like mist from a tempest's might.

And Earth, Air, and Light,
And the Spirit of Might,

Which drives round the stars in the fiery flight;
And Love, Thought, and Breath,
The powers that quell Death,
Wherever we soar, shall assemble beneath.

And our singing shall build
In the void's loose field

A world for the Spirit of Wisdom to wield;
We will take our plan

From the new world of man,

And our work shall be called the Promethean.

Chorus of Hours. Break the dance, and scatter the

song;

Let some depart, and some remain.

Semichorus I. We, beyond heaven, are driven along : Semichorus II. Us the enchantments of earth retain :

Semichorus I. Ceaseless, and rapid, and fierce, and free, With the Spirits which build a new earth and sea, And a heaven where yet heaven could never be. Semichorus II. Solemn, and slow, and serene, and bright,

Leading the Day and outspeeding the Night,

With the powers of a world of perfect light. Semichorus I. We whirl, singing loud, round the gathering sphere,

Till the trees, and the beasts, and the clouds, appear
From its chaos, made calm by love, not fear.
Semichorus II. We encircle the ocean and mountains
of earth,

And the happy forms of its death and birth
Change to the music of our sweet mirth.

Chorus of Hours and Spirits.

Break the dance, and scatter the song,
Let some depart and some remain;
Wherever we fly we lead along

In leashes, like star-beams, soft yet strong,
The clouds that are heavy with love's sweet rain.
Pan. Ha! they are gone!

Ione.

Yet feel you no delight

From the past sweetness?

Pan.

As the bare green hill,

When some soft cloud vanishes into rain,

Laughs with a thousand drops of sunny water
To the unpavilioned sky!

Ione.

Even whilst we speak

New notes arise. What is that awful sound?
Pan. 'Tis the deep music of the rolling world
Kindling within the strings of the waved air
Eolian modulations.

How every pause is filled with under-notes,
Clear, silver, icy, keen, awakening tones.
Which pierce the sense, and live within the soul,
As the sharp stars pierce winter's crystal air,
And gaze upon themselves within the sea.

Pan. But see where through two openings in the forest,

Which hanging branches overcanopy,

And where two runnels of a rivulet,

Between the close moss violet-in woven,

Have made their path of melody, like sisters

Who part with sighs that they may meet in smiles,
Turning their dear disunion to an isle

Of lovely grief, a wood of sweet sad thoughts;
Two visions of strange radiance float upon
The ocean-like enchantment of strong sound,
Which flows intenser, keener, deeper yet,
Under the ground and through the windless air.
Ione. I see a chariot like that thinnest boat,
In which the mother of the months is borne
By ebbing night into her western cave,
When she upsprings from interlunar dreams,
O'er which is curved an orb-like canopy
Of gentle darkness, and the hills and woods
Distinctly seen through that dusk airy veil
Regard like shapes in an enchanter's glass;
Its wheels are solid clouds, azure and gold,
Such as the genii of the thunder storm
Pile on the floor of the illumined sea
When the sun rushes under it; they roll,
And move, and grow, as with an inward wind.

Within it sits a winged infant: white

Its countenance, like the whiteness of bright snow; Its plumes are as feathers of sunny frost;

Its limbs gleam white, through the wind-flowing folds Of its white robe, woof of ætherial pearl.

Its hair is white, the brightness of white light

"Scattered in string; yet its two eyes are heavens

Of liquid darkness, which the Deity

Within seems pouring, as a storm is poured
From jagged clouds out of their arrowy lashes,
Tempering the cold and radiant air around
With fire that is not brightness; in its hand
It sways a quivering moon-beam, from whose point
A guiding power directs the chariot's prow