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.
NOTE: _589 And 1820; Tho’ B.
FURY:
Behold an emblem: those who do endure
Deep wrongs for man, and scorn, and chains, but heap _595
Thousand-fold torment on themselves and him.