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?

PANTHEA: 
Alas!  I looked forth twice, but will no more.

IONE: 
What didst thou see?

PANTHEA: 
A woful sight:  a youth
With patient looks nailed to a crucifix. 585

IONE: 
What next?

PANTHEA: 
The heaven around, the earth below
Was peopled with thick shapes of human death,
All horrible, and wrought by human hands,
And some appeared the work of human hearts,
For men were slowly killed by frowns and smiles:  590
And other sights too foul to speak and live
Were wandering by.  Let us not tempt worse fear
By looking forth:  those groans are grief enough.