PANTHEA
  Look how the gusty sea of mist is breaking
  In crimson foam, even at our feet! it rises
  As Ocean at the enchantment of the moon
  Round foodless men wrecked on some oozy isle.

ASIA
  The fragments of the cloud are scattered up;
  The wind that lifts them disentwines my hair;
  Its billows now sweep o'er mine eyes; my brain
  Grows dizzy; I see shapes within the mist.

PANTHEA
  A countenance with beckoning smiles; there burns
  An azure fire within its golden locks!
  Another and another: hark! they speak!

SONG OF SPIRITS
  To the deep, to the deep,
  Down down!
  Through the shade of sleep,
  Through the cloudy strife
  Of Death and of Life;
  Through the veil and the bar
  Of things which seem and are,
  Even to the steps of the remotest throne,
  Down, down!