Page:Prometheus Unbound - Shelley.djvu/49

SCENE I. Sister, I hear the thunder of new wings.

These solid mountains quiver with the sound Even as the tremulous air; their shadows make The space within my plumes more black than night.

Your call was as a winged car Driven on whirlwinds fast and far; It rapt us from red gulfs of war.

From wide cities, famine-wasted;

Groans half heard, and blood untasted;

Kingly conclaves stern and cold, Where blood with gold is bought and sold;

From the furnace, white and hot, In which—