In Tartarean pit, unfathomed,
Fettered with unyielding bonds!
Then nor god nor man had feasted
Eyes of triumph on my wrongs,
Nor I, thus swung in middle ether,[f8]
Moved the laughter of my foes.
STROPHE II.
Chorus.
Which of the gods hath heart so hard
To mock thy woes? Who will withhold
The fellow-feeling and the tear,