PANTHEA
  Canst thou speak, sister? all my words are drowned.

IONE
  Their beauty gives me voice. See how they float
  On their sustaining wings of skyey grain,
  Orange and azure deepening into gold!
  Their soft smiles light the air like a star's fire.

CHORUS OF SPIRITS
  Hast thou beheld the form of Love?

FIFTH SPIRIT
  As over wide dominions
  I sped, like some swift cloud that wings the wide air's
  wildernesses,
  That planet-crested Shape swept by on lightning-braided pinions,
  Scattering the liquid joy of life from his ambrosial tresses.
  His footsteps paved the world with light; but as I passed 't was
  fading,
  And hollow Ruin yawned behind; great sages bound in madness,
  And headless patriots, and pale youths who perished, unupbraiding,