Tracking their path no more by blood and groans,
  And desolation, and the mingled voice
  Of slavery and command; but by the light
  Of wave-reflected flowers, and floating odors,
  And music soft, and mild, free, gentle voices,
  That sweetest music, such as spirits love.

APOLLO
  And I shall gaze not on the deeds which make
  My mind obscure with sorrow, as eclipse
  Darkens the sphere I guide. But list, I hear
  The small, clear, silver lute of the young Spirit
  That sits i' the morning star.

OCEAN
  Thou must away;
  Thy steeds will pause at even, till when farewell.
  The loud deep calls me home even now to feed it
  With azure calm out of the emerald urns
  Which stand forever full beside my throne.
  Behold the Nereids under the green sea,
  Their wavering limbs borne on the windlike stream,
  Their white arms lifted o'er their streaming hair,
  With garlands pied and starry sea-flower crowns,
  Hastening to grace their mighty sister's joy.
  [A sound of waves is heard.