III Ariel
HARK! the storm of hours draws near,
Loudly to the spirit-ear
Signs of coming day appear.
Rocky gates are wildly crashing,
Phoebus’ wheels are onward dashing;
(A wonderful noise proclaims the approach of the sun.)
Light doth mighty sounds beget!
Pealing loud as rolling thunder,
Eye and ear it fills with wonder,
Though itself unconscious yet.
Downward steals it,’mongst the flowers
Seeking deeper, stiller bowers,
‘Mongst the foliage, ’neath the rock;
Thou’lt be deafened by the shock!
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FROM FAUST—SECOND PART.