SPIRIT
  Alas! it could not

PANTHEA
  O Spirit! pause, and tell whence is the light
  Which fills the cloud? the sun is yet unrisen.

SPIRIT
  The sun will rise not until noon. Apollo
  Is held in heaven by wonder; and the light
  Which fills this vapor, as the aërial hue
  Of fountain-gazing roses fills the water,
  Flows from thy mighty sister.

PANTHEA
  Yes, I feel--

ASIA
  What is it with thee, sister? Thou art pale.

PANTHEA
  How thou art changed! I dare not look on thee;
  I feel but see thee not. I scarce endure
  The radiance of thy beauty. Some good change
  Is working in the elements, which suffer
  Thy presence thus unveiled. The Nereids tell
  That on the day when the clear hyaline
  Was cloven at thy uprise, and thou didst stand
  Within a veinèd shell, which floated on
  Over the calm floor of the crystal sea,
  Among the Ægean isles, and by the shores
  Which bear thy name,--love, like the atmosphere
  Of the sun's fire filling the living world,
  Burst from thee, and illumined earth and heaven
  And the deep ocean and the sunless caves