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PROMETHEUS UNBOUND.
ACT IV.
Waves assemble on ocean,
They are gathered and driven
By the storm of delight, by the panic of glee!
They shake with emotion,
They dance in their mirth.
But where are ye?
The pine boughs are singing
Old songs with new gladness,
The billows and fountains
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?
Ione. What charioteers are these?
Pan. Where are their chariots?
Semichorus of Hours.
Have drawn back the figured curtain of sleep
Which covered our being and darkened our birth
In the deep.
