A FURY
  Speak not; whisper not;
  I know all that ye would tell,
  But to speak might break the spell
  Which must bend the Invincible,
  The stern of thought;
  He yet defies the deepest power of Hell.

FURY
  Tear the veil!

ANOTHER FURY
  It is torn.

CHORUS
  The pale stars of the morn
  Shine on a misery, dire to be borne.
  Dost thou faint, mighty Titan? We laugh thee to scorn.
  Dost thou boast the clear knowledge thou waken'dst for man?
  Then was kindled within him a thirst which outran
  Those perishing waters; a thirst of fierce fever,