ASIA: 
So much I asked before, and my heart gave
The response thou hast given; and of such truths
Each to itself must be the oracle. 
One more demand; and do thou answer me
As my own soul would answer, did it know 125
That which I ask.  Prometheus shall arise
Henceforth the sun of this rejoicing world: 
When shall the destined hour arrive?

DEMOGORGON: 
Behold!

ASIA: 
The rocks are cloven, and through the purple night
I see cars drawn by rainbow-winged steeds 130
Which trample the dim winds:  in each there stands
A wild-eyed charioteer urging their flight. 
Some look behind, as fiends pursued them there,
And yet I see no shapes but the keen stars: 
Others, with burning eyes, lean forth, and drink 135
With eager lips the wind of their own speed,
As if the thing they loved fled on before,
And now, even now, they clasped it.  Their bright locks
Stream like a comet’s flashing hair; they all
Sweep onward.

DEMOGORGON: 
These are the immortal Hours, 140
Of whom thou didst demand.  One waits for thee.

ASIA: 
A Spirit with a dreadful countenance
Checks its dark chariot by the craggy gulf. 
Unlike thy brethren, ghastly charioteer,
Who art thou?  Whither wouldst thou bear me?  Speak! 145

SPIRIT: 
I am the shadow of a destiny
More dread than is my aspect:  ere yon planet
Has set, the darkness which ascends with me
Shall wrap in lasting night heaven’s kingless throne.

ASIA: 
What meanest thou?

PANTHEA: 
That terrible shadow floats 150
Up from its throne, as may the lurid smoke
Of earthquake-ruined cities o’er the sea. 
Lo! it ascends the car; the coursers fly
Terrified:  watch its path among the stars
Blackening the night!

ASIA: 
Thus I am answered:  strange! 155

PANTHEA: 
See, near the verge, another chariot stays;
An ivory shell inlaid with crimson fire,
Which comes and goes within its sculptured rim
Of delicate strange tracery; the young spirit
That guides it has the dove-like eyes of hope; 160
How its soft smiles attract the soul! as light
Lures winged insects through the lampless air.

SPIRIT: 
My coursers are fed with the lightning,
They drink of the whirlwind’s stream,
And when the red morning is bright’ning 165
They bathe in the fresh sunbeam;
They have strength for their swiftness I deem;
Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean. 
I desire:  and their speed makes night kindle;
I fear:  they outstrip the Typhoon; 170
Ere the cloud piled on Atlas can dwindle
We encircle the earth and the moon: 
We shall rest from long labours at noon: 
Then ascend with me, daughter of Ocean.