IONE:
What dark forms were they? _30
PANTHEA:
The past Hours weak and gray,
With the spoil which their toil
Raked together
From the conquest but One could foil.
IONE:
Have they passed?
PANTHEA:
They have passed; _35
They outspeeded the blast,
While ’tis said, they are fled:
IONE:
Whither, oh, whither?
PANTHEA:
To the dark, to the past, to the dead.
VOICE OF UNSEEN SPIRITS:
Bright clouds float in heaven, _40
Dew-stars gleam on earth,
Waves assemble on ocean,
They are gathered and driven
By the storm of delight, by the panic of glee!
They shake with emotion, _45
They dance in their mirth.
But where are ye?
The pine boughs are singing
Old songs with new gladness,
The billows and fountains _50
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? _55
IONE:
What charioteers are these?
PANTHEA:
Where are their chariots?