Grant a little respite now.
  See! a disenchanted nation
  Spring like day from desolation;
  To Truth its state is dedicate,
  And Freedom leads it forth, her mate;
  A legioned band of linkèd brothers,
  Whom Love calls children--

SEMICHORUS II
  'T is another's.
  See how kindred murder kin!
  'T is the vintage-time for Death and Sin;
  Blood, like new wine, bubbles within;
  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,
  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?