SCENE III.--A Pinnacle of Rock among Mountains. ASIA and PANTHEA.

PANTHEA
  Hither the sound has borne us--to the realm
  Of Demogorgon, and the mighty portal,
  Like a volcano's meteor-breathing chasm,
  Whence the oracular vapor is hurled up
  Which lonely men drink wandering in their youth,
  And call truth, virtue, love, genius, or joy,
  That maddening wine of life, whose dregs they drain
  To deep intoxication; and uplift,
  Like Mænads who cry loud, Evoe! Evoe!
  The voice which is contagion to the world.

ASIA
  Fit throne for such a Power! Magnificent!
  How glorious art thou, Earth! and if thou be
  The shadow of some spirit lovelier still,
  Though evil stain its work, and it should be
  Like its creation, weak yet beautiful,
  I could fall down and worship that and thee.
  Even now my heart adoreth. Wonderful!
  Look, sister, ere the vapor dim thy brain: