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.