To the perfect end; but I—my heart shrinks back
From the harsh task to nail a kindred god[n3]
To this storm-battered crag. Yet dare I must.
Where Jove commands, whoso neglects rebels,
And pays the traitor’s fine. High-counselled son
Of right-decreeing Themis,[n4] I force myself
No less than thee, when to this friendless rock
With iron bonds I chain thee, where nor shape
Nor voice of wandering mortal shall relieve
Thy lonely watch; but the fierce-burning sun