Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/106

102 Tracking their path no more by blood and groans, And desolation, and the mingled voice Of slavery and command; but by the light Of wave-reflected flowers, and floating odours, And music soft, and mild, free, gentle voices, That sweetest music, such as spirits love.

And I shall gaze not on the deeds which make My mind obscure with sorrow, as eclipse Darkens the sphere I guide. But list, I hear The small, clear, silver lute of the young Spirit That sits on the morning star.

Thou must away; Thy steeds will pause at even, till when farewell: The loud deep calls me home even now to feed it With azure calm out of the emerald urns Which stand forever full beside my throne. Behold the Nereids under the green sea, Their wavering limbs borne on the wind-like stream, Their white arms lifted o'er their streaming hair With garlands pied and starry sea-flower crowns, Hastening to grace their mighty sister's joy. (A sound of waves is heard.)