Ichtharion:

Yes, your Majesty.

Queen:

You speak of me?

King Karnos:

O no. We speak of the gods.

[The earthly music ceases.]

Queen:

O do not speak of the gods. The gods are very terrible; all the dooms
that shall ever be come forth from the gods. In misty windings of the
wandering hills they forge the future even as on an anvil. The future
frightens me.

King Karnos:

Call the Queen's maidens. Send quickly for her maidens. Do not let the
future frighten you.

Queen:

Men laugh at the gods; they often laugh at the gods. I am more sure