PROMETHEUS.
Waste no more words, thou dost but chide the sea;
Dream not that I can be o'erawed by Zeus,
That I will from my manhood derogate
And sue to him that from my soul I hate,
With womanish uplifting of my hands,
For liberation from these fetters.—Never!
HERMES.
Methinks I spend my eloquence in vain,
For all my prayers nor melt nor move thy heart.
Like a raw colt that pulls against the reins,
Taking the bit between his teeth, art thou.
And yet thy mettle will but weakness prove;
For dogged resolution by itself,
With wisdom unallied, is impotence.
See if thou wilt not to my words give ear,
What stormy billows of resistless woe
Will overwhelm thee. First the Almighty Sire
Will with his thunder cleave this beetling rock,
And bury thee beneath its shattered base,
Within its stony arms enfolding thee;
And many an age shall pass ere thou return
To daylight. Then the winged hound of Zeus,
The ravening eagle with devouring maw,
Shall deeply trench thy quivering flesh and come,
Day after day, an uninvited guest,
To feast upon thy ulcerated heart.
Of this thy agony expect no end
Until some god appears to take on him
Thy load of suffering, and for thee descend
To the dark depths of the dread under-world.
Advise thee then, and deem not that my words
Are feigned, for I in bitter earnest speak.
The lips of the Almighty cannot lie;
Each word they utter surely is fulfilled.
Use then thy forecast and be circumspect,
Nor o'er good counsel let self-will prevail.
CHORUS.
As seems to us, Hermes has spoken well,
In that he redes thee put away self-will,
And take far-sighted prudence to thy heart.
Give ear; for one so wise to err were shame.
PROMETHEUS.
Well known beforehand was to me
The purport of this embassy.
His foe am I, he is my foe,
And I his worst can undergo.
Then let his forked lightnings flash,
Heaven with his pealing thunder crash:
Let him the wild winds loose and make
Earth to her deep foundation shake;
Bid the swoll'n waves, by tempest driven,
Mount up and drench the stars of heaven;
And let my helpless form be hurled
Headlong to the dark under-world
Midst raging wreck of earth and sky.—
There ends his power, I cannot die.
HERMES.
Madness it is inspires thy thought.
Thy words are words of one distraught.
What here is wanting that can be
Sure token of insanity?
But now, ye ocean nymphs whose eyes
Weep for yon sinner's agonies,
Go hence, the heavens begin to lower,
Go hence, or with its awful stour
The thunder will your souls o'erpower.