The winds carried the sound of his moans far off to the shore of the sea. The sea maidens, daughters of old Ocean, heard them and were moved to tearful pity. They hastened on the wings of the salt breeze like a swarm of birds to comfort and cheer him. Nay, more, old Ocean himself came from afar, and rising up from his watery abode, stationed himself near Prometheus to speak to him.
“I am grieved to the heart, dear Prometheus,” he said, “for all that thou hast to suffer. I am thy kin, and it breaks my heart to see thee like this. Even apart from our kinship there is no one whom I honor as much as thee. Tell me, is there any way in which I can help thee?”
Prometheus, hearing what Okeanos said, made reply: “What do my eyes behold, friend Okeanos? Hast thou come to see me in my misery? I fear me I have only bitter words in exchange for thy kindly greeting. See in what manner Zeus treats me, his friend, who hath assisted him to gain possession of the throne of the world!”
Okeanos felt the truth of his words, but thought it better to try to persuade Prometheus to submit to Zeus, and so he answered pleadingly: “Curb such overbearing speeches, dear Prometheus, and I will myself try to appease the anger of Zeus.” But Prometheus quickly replied: “I have done no evil that I know of, and I will not bow to tyranny and injustice.
“My fault is this: I loved mankind too well to let them lie helpless in stupidity and ignorance. I found them in a pitiable plight. They had eyes but could not see. They had ears but could not hear. Not one thing did they know until I taught them. I told them to observe the rising and the setting of the sun, moon, and stars. I taught them how to count, and write, and remember.
“I taught them to yoke oxen to their ploughs instead of dragging them themselves. And I showed them how to harness horses to the chariots likewise. I helped them to make boats with oars for the rivers, and ships winged with white sails to traverse the seas. I taught them the healing power of plants to relieve them in their sickness. From me they learned how to mine for silver and copper, and how to work them. Indeed, friend Okeanos, thou mayst well say that all the arts men know how to apply they have learned from Prometheus.”
Zeus sat uneasily on his throne, angry when he saw that the spirit of Prometheus was unbroken. “He still defies me, but I will conquer yet,” said the Thunderer; and he sent a cruel vulture to tear and eat his vitals every day. At night they grew again and he was healed. But each morning the vulture came and renewed his terrible feast.
Two thousand years the large hearted, man-loving Prometheus passed in suffering in the Caucasus. At length Herakles came that way in his wanderings, when he was trying to find his way to the Garden of the Hesperides. He broke the iron bands like egg shells and set Prometheus free.
To tell the truth, Prometheus was too wise for Zeus to have him as an enemy forever, for he knew one thing which Zeus did not—he knew the future. Zeus was aware that there were many important secrets concerning the future which he could learn from no one else. It is supposed that Zeus may have hoped to force Prometheus to yield up his secrets by these punishments, and that on finding out his mistake he slyly connived at his victim’s liberation because he could not afford to be unreconciled to him any longer.
Prometheus has been loved and honored through all the ages. On an island belonging to Greece the people built an altar to him at the foot of a burning mountain. Once a year they put out all their fires and sent a ship to Delos to bring a fresh light. They used this new flame for kindling again the fires they had extinguished.