THE DAUGHTER.
Well then, I go; but, father, come with me.
THE VOICE.
No, there below I cannot breathe——
THE DAUGHTER.
Now sinks the cloud—what sultriness—I choke!
I am not breathing air, but smoke and steam—
With heavy weight it drags me down,
And I can feel already how it rolls—
Indeed, the best of worlds is not the third
THE VOICE.
The best I cannot call it, nor the worst.
Its name is Dust; and like them all, it rolls:
And therefore dizzy sometimes grows the race,
And seems to be half foolish and half mad—
Take courage, child—a trial, that is all!
THE DAUGHTER. [Kneeling as the cloud sinks downward]
I sink!