Chor. Not to unwilling hearers hast thou uttered,
Prometheus, thy request,
And now with nimble foot abounding
My swiftly rushing car,
And the pure æther, path of birds of heaven,
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I will draw near this rough and rocky land,
For much do I desire
To hear this tale, full measure, of thy woes.
Enter Okeanos, on a car drawn by a winged gryphon