# Prometheus Bound (Browning, 1833)/Prometheus Bound

PROMETHEUS BOUND.
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PERSONS OF THE DRAMA.
* Prometheus.
* Vulcan.
* Strength.
* Force.
* Oceanus.
* Hermes.
* Io.
* Chorus of sea-nymphs.
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PROMETHEUS BOUND.
Scene in European Scythia. Rocks facing the Euxine Sea.
Prometheus, Vulcan, Strength and Force.
Strength. We have attain'd the utmost bound of earth, The Scythian way, th' unpeopled wilderness; And now it fits thee, Vulcan, to perform The father's will; and this audacious god Fix to the lofty-browëd rocks, by links Infrangible of adamantine chains. Thy crown, the glory of constructive fire, Stole he, and gave to men; for which offence
'Tis just he pay to gods exacted vengeance; So may he learn t' admit Saturnius' sway, And make cessation from his love of man. Vul. O Strength and Force! for you, doth Jove's command Look to its end unhinder'd. But for me, To bind with forceful hands a kindred god Against this tempest-riven precipice, Is what I dare not: yet, necessity Maketh me dare—neglect of Jove were awful. Oh! of sagacious Themis, sagest son, Thee loath, I loath, with chains insoluble Shall fix against this desolated rock,— Where never voice nor form of mortal man Shall meet thee friend of man—where, 'stablished 'Neath the fierce sun, thy brow's white flower shall fade— Star-broider'd night enshadow thee well pleased, And day disperse the morning dews again!
But ever shall the present sense of woe Gnaw at thy heart; for no deliv'rer comes! Such fruit thou cullest from thy love of man! For thou a god, denying fear to gods, Gavest to mortals honor unbefit. For which things thou shalt guard this joyless rock, Erect, unslumb'ring, bending not the knee, And many wailings and unfruitful groans Shalt utter. For Jove's mind is obdurate, And ever cruel is a new-made king. Strength. Amen!—Why laggest thou with vain compassion? Why hat'st thou not a god who hateth gods— Who yielded up thy glory unto men? Vul. Strong is the tie of kindred and of friendship! Strength. I grant it. But how canst thou disobey The father? Doth not this affright thee more? Vul. Aye wert thou stern and full of hardihood. Strength. Because it booteth not, bewailing him;
Nor labour thou for what can profit nought. Vul.Oh hateful hateful art, learn'd by mine hands! Strength. Why hate it? For in simple sooth, thine art Is not the cause of any present ill. Vul. Would that another used it! Strength.Every thing Is full of sorrow, save to rule the gods:— For none is free, save Jove. Vul.I have known that; And can in nothing contradict thy words. Strength. Why then not hasten to encompass round This god with chains, lest Jove behold thee lagging? Vul. The manacles are here. Strength.Then, seizing him, On either side his hands, with nervous might Strike with the hammer,—fix him to the rocks. Vul.The work is done, and not imperfectly.
Strength. Strike with a stronger stroke, compress, relax not:— He can find ways where others find no ways. Vul. This arm is fix'd indissolubly. Strength.Now Bind fast the other—let the sophist learn He is less wise than Jove. Vul.Except Prometheus, None can upbraid me justly! Strength.Firmly fix Athwart his breast the pertinacious jaw Of adamantine wedge. Vul.Alas! alas! Prometheus, I am mourning o'er thy fate! Strength. Art thou a dastard? For the foes of Jove Mourn'st thou? Take heed, lest thou bewail thyself. Vul. A spectacle thou seest, sad to see. Strength. I see this god endure just punishment.
But fetter now his sides. Vul.Necessity Compelleth this; but urge not thou too much. Strength. Yea, I will urge, and iterate mine urging— Go down, and forcibly enchain his limbs. Vul. 'Tis done, and by no lengthen'd toil. Strength.And now Strongly the perforating shackles, strike— Strike thou—for he, whose work thou dost, is stern. Vul. Thy tongue speaks words as rugged as thy form. Strength. Be soft and tender thou, but me reproach not For the firm will and anger resolute. Vul. Depart we. Iron nets enfold his limbs. Strength. Here now insult! And having spoil'd the gods Of glories, bless man with them. Tell me how
Thy well-loved mortals can deliver thee From all these woes. The gods have named thee falsely Prometheus the Provider, who thyself Need'st a provider for escaping hence.
Prometheus alone.
And river founts, and dimples numberless Of oceanic waves—all-fost'ring earth, And, all-beholding sun, on thee I call, Behold me, what I bear—a god, from gods. Behold me, by what anguish worn, These eyes of mine shall weary turn Unto time's myriad years. So harsh a chain of suffering, Hath form'd for me heav'n's new-made king! Alas! alas! my tears Alike for present and for future flow!— Where lies the bound'ry of my mighty woe?
What do I say? all things, all future things, I view unclouded; nor can sorrow come Strange to my soul. It doth behove to bear Calmly what Fate ordaineth, knowing that Necessity hath force impugnable. Yet can I not be silent, or unsilent, Of these my woes. To these necessities, Because I gave to man a glorious gift, I have been yoked—because I stole away The ferule-treasured secret fount of fire, Teacher of every art, high help to mortals— For such sin I endure such punishment; Rock-fixed, in the desert air, in chains. Ah me! ah me! ah me! what sound. What viewless odour hovers round? From god or man, or half divine Being, who nears this rock of mine, This limit of the earth, to see My woes, or seek—whate'er it be?
View me a bound and sorrowing god, The foe of Jove, the hate of such As Jove's imperial courts have trod; Because I loved man too much. Ah me! ah me! what sound I hear Of coming birds! Air murm'ring sings, Beneath the soft light stroke of wings— And all society is fear.
Prometheus and Chorus.
Chorus.
Fear nothing. Lo! This friendly train On the fast-flashing oar of pinions, Draws nigh; but scarce such boon could gain From him who holdeth sea dominions. Me too the rapid winds have borne afar. Deep thro' our caves the clank of iron came— Forth from my cheek was struck the blush of shame And rush'd I shoonless on my wingëd car.
Prometheus.
Children of Tethys, who hath given birth To many, and involveth all the earth With an unsleeping sea! Daughters of old Oceanus, Behold, look on me, how constrained thus, By chains to this exalted rocky steep, Sad vigil I must keep.
Chorus.
A cloud is o'er mine eyes, A trembling cloud surcharged with many tears; When I would gaze where rock-constrained thou Hangest consumed by iron miseries— Because new gods th' Olympian hill obtaineth, And by new laws the son of Saturn reigneth— And past the mighty things of former years.
Prometheus.
Haïdes, the host of death, Into baseless Tartarus, He had hurl'd me shackled thus Cruelly, infrangibly! Then, neither god nor man could be Rejoicer o'er Prometheus' woes: Now, motion'd by each wind that blows, I gladden—wretched me!—my foes.
Chorus.
Who by thy fate unsadden'd? Who of the gods, save Jove? He, ever lending To wrath his soul unbending, Ruleth the heav'ns, nor e'er shall cease from ill, Until his heart be satiate, or until By fraud the sceptre's strength be wrested from his will.
Prometheus.
By fetter strong consumed I lie, The ruler of the blest shall need— To show that counsel new whereby He loseth honor, sov'reignty. And honey'd, suasive words shall be, Though charm'd, no spell to soften me; Nor iron threats shall move me e'er By fear this counsel to declare, Before he break my cruel chain. And pay the price of all this pain.
Chorus.
Dost yield, but speakest words too free— And fear doth vex and pierce my spirit thro'!
I fear the fate attending thee, Where thou shalt voyage ere thou see The shore of grief: for none can move The will, or melt the heart of Jove.
Prometheus.
For his sole justice, his own will. Yet shall he soft and tender be, Moved by this threaten'd ill; And calming his unconquerable wrath, He shall not hasten less than I, To concord and to amity. Cho. Remove the veil from all things, and narrate In what offences, Jove detecting thee, Imposed such cruel and dishon'ring woe. Instruct us, if th' instruction grieve thee not. Pro. Grievous to me to speak of what is past: Grievous, to speak not—each way miserable!—
What time the gods their primal wrath began, And 'mid their ranks arose the mutual strife, Some eager to thrust Saturn from his throne, That Jove forsooth should fill it; some averse, Resolved that Jove should never rule the gods— Did I by wisest counsel seek to move The Titans, children of the heav'ns and earth; But fail'd in power. For all my courteous guile, Contemning with inexorable mind, They thought to lord it, without toil, by force. Oft had my mother Themis, yea, and Gaia, (Albeit one, she beareth many names) Foretold to me what future was to come; That not by fortitude or force but fraud, The victors were to vanquish. Such decree When I unfolded in mine arguments, They deignëd not to view the whole; what time Meseem'd it best of every present ill, That having won my mother to my side,
I willing should assist the willing Jove— And by my counsel the Tartarean pit, Based in darkness, covers ancient Saturn, And with him his allies. The King of gods, Being by me so benefited, now Hath paid me back with this ill recompense; Because there lies inbred in royalty, A rank disease—distrustfulness of friends. But that which ye demand, the cause wherefrom He doth afflict me, I will render clear. What time he sate upon his father's throne, First, unto various deities he gave Gifts various, and arranged his government; But reck'd he nothing of unhappy man, Eager to rase his universal kind, And generate another; which desire None dared resist, save I: but I, with daring Interposition, rescued mortal man From sinking into hell, exterminate.
Wherefrom beneath this anguish am I bent. Grievous to suffer, piteous to behold; And I who pitied man, am deem'd myself Unmeet for pity; but am harp'd on thus By Jove's fell hand, dishonor'd spectacle! Cho. Oh, iron-hearted, formed from the rock, Is he, Prometheus, who lamenteth not Thy woes. I yearned, not to look on them, And, having look'd, mine heart was anguish'd. Pro.Yea; To friends I am a piteous spectacle. Cho. But didst thou not offend in more than this? Pro. I smote with blindness man's prophetic sight, Cho. What drug devising for their malady? Pro. Blind hopes I sent among them. Cho.Mighty help Thereby thou didst afford to men. Pro.Besides, I yielded them the gift of fire—
Cho.And now Th' ephemerals possess the red-eyed fire— Pro. By which they shall be learn'd in many arts. Cho. For such crimes doth the hand of Jove afflict, And loosen not the chain of chastisement? Is there prescribed no limit to thy woe? Pro. No limit—none; save what seems good to him. Cho. And how will it seem good? What hope remains? Seest thou not, thou hast sinn'd? To say, thou hast, Gives me no joy, and may increase thy grief: So let that pass, and seek out thy deliv'rance. Pro. Easy for him, whose foot is free from toils Of grief, to counsel and reproach the grieved! But all these things I knew. By mine own will— By mine own will, I sinn'd—and will confess— And, aiding mortals, met with woe myself. Indeed I thought not, by such chastisement,
Attenuate, against the lofty rocks, To guard this tenantless and lonely hill— Nathless bewail not o'er my present woes, But on the plain descending, what shall come, Attend, that ye may learn the perfect whole, Obey me, nymphs, obey me; labour with Him who is toiling now; for wand'ring Woe Sits at the feet of every one by turns.
Chorus.
Prometheus; and with lightsome feet, Leaving my quickly-motion'd seat, Leaving the holy air, the way of birds, Anon I reach this promontory. And yearn to hear thy woful story.
Prometheus, Chorus, and Oceanus.
Oceanus.
Prometheus, unto thee; My steed's wing'd course by counsel bending; Of bridle he is free. Behold, I sorrow in thy woe! I ween that mutual kindred so Impels me; but, without our line, The fate of none would I combine With blessing, more than thine. My faithfulness thy soul will know; No flatteries false my lips attend; Then, can I serve thee, troubled thus? Thou shalt not say thou hast a friend Firmer than Oceanus. Pro. Ha! what is this? Thou, too, of my distress
Comest spectator? Wherefore hast thou dared, Leaving the tides that bear thy name, the caves Rock-roof'd and self-create, to visit earth, The mother of this iron? Didst thou come To look upon my griefs, and grieve withal? Behold a spectacle!—me, friend of Jove— Me, the creator of his royalty— Beneath what torture from his hand I bow! Ocea. Prometheus, I behold, and fain would lend Thine ear my chiefest counselling, albeit Thou hast a subtle mind. Know thine own self, And change thy ways, since heav'n hath changed her king; For if thou thus eject stern arrowy words, Though far above thee the Saturnian throne, Jove may attend, and all his present wrath Beseem a very sport at chastisement. Unhappy god! what ire thou hast, expel, And seek an egress from these circling pangs.
For tho' perchance my words, an olden saw May seem, Prometheus, such the recompense Attending lofty speech! But thou, in nought Abased, to sorrow yieldest not, and fain Wouldst add unto thy present, future ill! Therefore bv me instruct, thou never more Wilt kick against the goad, seeing that Jove, Is cruel, and to none accountable. And now depart I from thee, and will strive, If aught I can, to work thy liberty. Calm thy roused soul, nor passion in thy speech! Hast thou not learned, who art learn'd in much, That ruin presses on the idle tongue? Pro. I honor thee, who uncompell'd, partak'st My present curse, and darest that to come. Now, rest—forget me!—thou wilt move not him: He is unmoving; rather heed thyself, Lest visiting my grief should stir his vengeance. Ocea. More subtle far thou art for others' weal,
Than thine: I witness it by deeds, not words. Me moved to act, thou shalt not backward draw— Because I glory—glory, that to me The hand of Jove shall grant thy freedom's boon. Pro. Truly I praise thee, and shall ever praise; For thou hast shrunk from nought of kindness. Yet, Toil not for me; since vainly thou wilt toil, Whate'er thou toilest, profiting me nought. Be calm, and save thyself: for not because I needs must sorrow thus, my spirit wills That others should be sorrowful like me. No, in good truth; upon my heart, the fate Of Atlas—of my brother, weighs,—who stands Westward, upon his shoulder balancing The column of the heav'n and earth; a burden For strength gigantic. I have also seen. And pitied, by superior force subdued, The earth-born tenant of Cilician caves, Th' embattled monster, him o' the hundred heads,
Vehement Typhon, who opposed the gods, Out-hissing slaughter from his horrid jaws. Forth from his eyes the fearful splendour glared, As to annihilate the throne of Jove; But him did Jove's unsleeping arrow find, The headlong thunderbolt out-breathing fire, And smote him from his boast majestical: For stricken to the very soul, his strength Was scorch'd and thunder-blasted from him. Now A useless and immeasurable form, Fie lies beside the oceanic strait, Compressed underneath Mount Ætna's roots; Upon whose highest summit Vulcan sits, Beating his iron; and from whence erupt Rivers of fire, that gnaw with savage jaws, The fair wide plains of fruitful Sicily. Such wrath doth Typhon bubble forth, with darts Hot, unapproachable, of fiery storm, Though turn'd to cinder by the bolt of Jove.
But thou possessest wisdom, nor dost need My teaching: by thy knowledge save thyself. For me, I quaff this cup of present fate, Until the soul of Jove take breath from vengeance. Ocea. Therefore, Prometheus, art thou ignorant That words do med'cine the disease of wrath? Pro. Yea; if the heart they opportunely soothe, And do not sear the tumours of the soul. Ocea. For him who wisely thinks and nobly acts, Seest thou inherent punishment? Instruct me. Pro. Labour superfluous—foolishness inane! Ocea. Yet, suffer me to faint 'neath this disease Of folly, since it profits that the wise Appear unwise. Pro.This will appear my sin. Ocea. In sooth, thy counsel drives me to mine home. Pro. Lest my bewailing drive thee into wrath. Ocea. His wrath, who newly sitteth on the seat Omnipotent?
Pro.Take heed, lest thou provoke Him. Ocea. O, Prometheus, thy calamity Shall be my teacher. Pro.Go; depart, preserve Thy present prudence. Ocea.Unto me forth rushing, Thou iteratest this desire: for now My flying courser beateth with his wings The wide expanse of æther, and well-pleased Would crouch within his oceanic cave.
Prometheus and Chorus.
Chorus.
Strophe 1.
Prometheus! From my tender eyes
A tear-distilling stream doth break, With humid fount to dew my cheek; Because Saturnius, cruel still, Ruling by his proper will. Doth the royal sceptre bear, Subversive of the gods who were.
Antistrophe 1.
Deeply sighing, doth lament Thy brethren's chastisement and thine, Unworthy of an ancient line. And mortals all, who find abode On holy Asia's neighb'ring sod, Sorrow with thee, who art lying In a sorrow meet for sighing:—
Strophe 2.
Virgins, who untrembling stand In war; and they of Scythia's band, Who for a home earth's limit take, Round about Mæotis' lake:—
Antistrophe 2.
They who 'habit in the town Lofty-pinnacled and near Caucasus—a race of fear, Thund'ring with the pointed spear.
Epode.
In adamantine grief by gods subdued;—
Atlas,—who with eterne surpassing might. Doth groan beneath the freight Of the supernal pole. For him the tides of ocean wailing roll, And earthly caves emit a deep'ning sigh; And hell's obscure recesses sound reply; And fountains, whence the limpid rivers flow, Murmur a pitying woe. Pro. Think not that indolence or arrogance Maketh me silent thus; I gnaw mine heart With thought, contemplating mine outraged form. Yet to these newly-crowned gods, what hand, Saving this hand, gave out the gifts of empire? Which things, I silent pass; for I would speak To you who own their knowledge. Dather hear What crimes I perpetrated touching man; How from his idiot state I made him wise And mind-possessive. Blaming him in nought, But making clear my gifts' beneficence,
I will describe them. In the olden time, Men seeing, saw in vain, and did not hear Hearing; but similar to shades of dreams, Long mingled all things in confusedness; Nor knew by tilëd roofs t' oppose the sun, Nor knew device of wood; but underground, Abode like sorry ants in sunless caves. To them, of winter shone no certain sign, Nor yet of flow'ry spring, nor fruitful summer; But all things did they void of sapiency— Until I show'd the rising of the orbs, And mystic setting. Yea; and I devised Numbers—high art!—and letters' composition, And memory, effector of all things, And mother of the Muses: I the first Join'd unto fitting yokes enslavëd beasts, Vicarious in the greatest toils, of man; I led rein-loving coursers to the chariot, The pride of gold-abounding luxury;
And none, save I, contrived the linen-wing'd, Sea-wand'ring ships, whereon the sailors ride. Now, I unhappy, who such arts devised For mortal man, myself have no device, Whereby I may escape my present woe. Cho. Thou hast endured unseemly punishment Madden'd by error; and, as leech unskill'd Who falleth sick, thou yieldest to despair, Nor findest 'mid thy drugs thy proper cure. Pro. More wilt thou wonder, having heard the rest, Touching what arts and manners I devised;— The greatest, this. Of old, were any sick, There was no help, nor esculent, nor liquid, Nor yet anointive; but men lay outworn For lack of drugs, till I declared to them The combinations of soft remedies, Whereby all sicknesses were warded off. And divination's many rules I fix'd, And first adjudged what dreams possess the mark
Of revelation; and I taught them omens Hard to distinguish; and I eke defined Signs by the way, and flight of crook-claw'd birds; And which are, by their nature, fortunate, Which contrary, and what the food of each; And how among them there are mutually Loves, and societies, and enmities; The lightness of the entrails, and what hue Possessing, they contribute joy to gods— The lungs' and liver's fair variety— And having burnt fat-cover'd limbs and loins, Toward an art complex'd I led the way, And render'd clear the fiery signs, erst dark. Enough of this! What lieth underneath The bosom of the earth, the helps of man, Gold, silver, iron, copper—who can say He track'd them ere my wisdom track'd them? None! I have sure knowledge—if the boaster's part He vainly choose not. Learn in brief the whole:—
All science came to mortals from Prometheus! Cho. Take heed, lest thou unfittingly assist Mortals, neglecting thy sad self. For me, I have good hope that thou, escaped from chains, Wilt put on strength, omnipotent as Jove's. Pro. Not yet—not so, doth Fate, the Perfecter, Perform these things; but having bow'd beneath Toils, griefs unnumber'd, thus I 'scape the chain. Far weaker than necessity is art. Cho. Who holds the helm of that necessity? Pro. The threefold Fates, and unforgetting Furies. Cho. Is Jove less absolute than these are? Pro.Yea; And therefore cannot 'scape what is ordain'd. Cho. What is ordain'd for Jove, except to rule? Pro. Thou mayst not hear; nor question me again. Cho. Is that which thou involv'st in mystery, Of sacred import?
Pro. Of my other words Be mindful; these, 'tis not the hour to speak But to veil closely; for, preserving these, 'Scape I the anguish and the fetter's shame.
Chorus.
Strophe 1.
Oppose his will to my desire! Nor e'er with sacrificial fire, Bull-consuming, sanctified, By my father's deathless tide, May I godward cease to move! Nor e'er my lips offend in pride! But may this counsel aye abide; And never from its source be dried.
Antistrophe 1.
With hopes unshadow'd o'er by doubt; The soul enriched all the while With joys that wear a golden smile! But Titan, shudd'ring I behold thee, What time a thousand woes enfold thee With macerating power; because Thou didst not tremble at Jove's laws; But gavest, with unbending mind, Too much weal to human kind.
Strophe 2.
Where is thy help, beloved, say? What help from men who last a day? And dost thou not the weakness see,
Slow, vision-like, by which is found The hood-wink'd race of mortals, bound? Man's counsels ne'er can rise above The purposed fixedness of Jove.
Antistrophe 2.
Viewing thy ruin'd fate: Unlike that song which waved its wings Upon my lips of late; Which sweetly round the baths I sung, Hymning thy nuptial hour, When, suasive with thy presents' power, Hermione thou wedd'st, our sister young.
Prometheus, Chorus, and Io.
Io.
The being that I look unto, Tempested in rock and chain? For what crime dost thou sustain Such chastisement? and, oh, declare Where have I hapless wander'd—where? Ah me! ah me! ah me! Again the gad-fly spurs me, wretched maid! Oh earth, avert the earth-born Argus' shade! I fear mine eyes should be On him, the thousand-eyed Herdsman, who walketh, looking craftily; Whom, albeit dead, the grave hath fail'd to hide; But, passing from the shades, who doggeth me, Making me wander famine-worn beside The sand-encircled sea:
While undertoned his waxen reed doth keep A tune engend'ring sleep. Oh woe! oh woe!
Where are, ye gods, my wand'rings wide directed?
Me, in what crime, thou Jove, what crime, detected, Yok'st thou to suff'ring, so,
And thus to goading terror dost thou doom me
Wretched and madden'd? Oh, with fire consume me,
Hide me with earth, to beasts my body fling: Spurn not my prayer, oh king!
Too many wand'rings on my strength have press'd,
Nor know I where I shall attain to rest. Cho. What saith the horned virgin, hearest thou? Pro. How can I hear not the fly-goaded maid,
The child of Inachus, who warm'd with love
Saturnius' breast; and now, by Juno's hate,
Is forced to tread the ever-length'ning ways?
Io.
Say to the sorrowing one—who canst thou be, Oh miserable thou, who dost acclaim Such true discourse to miserable me? Naming the Jove-impelled malady, Which goads with furious sting, my strength down-sweeping; And with the hungry scourges of whose leaping, Urged wildly on, I sought this path. Subdued by Juno's wily wrath? Of those acquaint with misery, Who, alas! are sad as I? But, now what suffering waits me, plainly show; And what, oh, what, the med'cine of my woe. Speak to the wand'ring maid, if aught thou know. Pro. And plainly will I speak whate'er thou wouldst;
Weaving no secret meaning, but in words Simple, as fits it to converse with friends. Thou seest Prometheus, who gave fire to mortals. Io. Oh universal help of mortal man— Sad Titan! wherefore dost thou suffer thus? Pro. I scarce have ceased bewailing o'er my woes. Io. And therefore wilt not grant this boon to me? Pro. Say what thou askest: thou mayst hear the whole. Io. Declare who 'gainst this rock hath prison'd thee. Pro. Jove's counsel, Vulcan's hand. Io.And for what crimes Hast thou such chastisement? Pro. Enough for thee What now I have declared. Io.Yea: besides, To me, unhappy maiden, show what time Shall be the limit of my wanderings. Pro. Better to learn not, than to learn these things.
Io. Conceal not from me that which I shall suffer. Pro. It is not that I grudge the boon. Io.Then, wherefore Delayest thou to tell me all? Pro.Not grudging. But that I fear to wring thine heart. Io. Be not More careful for me than is grateful to me. Pro. Since thou art eager, I will speak. Then, hear me. Cho. Nay; make me also sharer in the boon. First, we would fain inquire her malady, Herself narrating her consuming woes: And be what toils remain declared by thee. Pro. Io, 'tis thine t' attend these nymphs' request; The more, because they are thy father's sisters; Since to bewail and weep one's destiny, Where it is possible to draw a tear From those who hearken, is a well-paid labour.
Io. I know not why I should distrust you, nymphs; And all ye fain would learn, will I unfold In clearest speech: albeit, ev'n in speech, Touching the Jove-impelled tempesting, And the corruption of my human form, The cause which wing'd them to me, thrills my soul: For dreams nocturnal ever 'habiting Within my virgin chamber, me beguiled With honey'd words:—'Oh, blessed, blessed maid, Wherefore so long unwedded, when 'tis thine To meet with noblest spousals? since for thee Jove is consumed by an arrowy love, And yearns to win thee; maiden, spurn not thou The vows of Jove; but hence to Lerne's plain, Enrich'd with hocks and ox-stalls of thy sire, That so Saturnius' eye may quench its love.' Unhappy me! each night I was constrain'd By visions thus, until I dared narrate Unto my father the night-haunting dream.
He unto Pytho sent, and to Dodona's Sagacious prophets, that he hence might learn Whereby in act or speech to please the gods— Nathless his messengers return'd, announcing Various, and dark, and mystic oracles. At length, an unambiguous answer came To Inachus, which urged him, 'monished him, T' expel me from my home and native land, That so abandon'd, I might wander on To earth's extremest verge: if he refused, It threaten'd that a fire-eyed thunderbolt Should fall from Jove t' exterminate his race. Persuaded by the Loxian prophecies, He drove me forth, and barr'd me from my home He loath, me loath; but Jove's coercive bit Constrain'd him to the act. Immediately Perverted were my human form and mind; And, horned as ye see, and goaded on By pungent insect, with emadden'd leap
Unto Cenchrea's pleasant wave I rush'd, And Lerne's height. The herdsman born of earth, Argos, invincible of ire, pursued, Tracking my footsteps with his myriad eyes. Him, an unlook'd-for, instantaneous fate Deprived of life; but I, instinct with fury, Am driv'n, by scourge divine, from land to land. Thou hearest what is past. What is to come Of trouble, oh, declare, if aught thou can; Nor, pitying, flatter me with soothless words; For I would name til' ignoblest sin—deceit.
Chorus.
I thought not such discourse would pass— Such strange discourse—mine ear: Nor that such sights of grief and fear, So sad to view, and hard to bear,
Would chill, with double edge, ray spirit through. Fate! fate! I shudder, seeing Io's woe. Pro. Too soon thou wailest, and art full of fear: Restrain thy passion, till thou hear the rest. Cho. Speak, teach! There is a charm for those who grieve, In viewing without cloud their future grief. Pro. Your former boon ye did obtain from me Lightly; for ye desired to learn her woes, Herself narrating them. Now hear the rest— What future woe, there is necessity That this young maiden should endure from Juno. And, Io, let thy soul revolve ray words, That thou mayst learn where end thy wanderings. First, from this spot toward the orient sun Turning thy steps, traverse uncultured lands; And thou shalt reach the Scythian hordes who dwell On high, 'neath woven roofs, on wheelëd cars, Arm'd with far-darting bows: to whom approach not;
But to the sea-resounding rocky coast Bending thy footsteps, from their clime depart. Upon the left, abide the Chalybes, Workers in iron mines, of whom beware, Because ungentle they, nor bland to strangers: And thou shalt reach Hybristes, well-named stream; Which strive not thou to pass—for hard the passage— Or ere thou come to Caucasus, of hills The most exalt, and from whose pinnacle, The river pours its strength: and having clomb His star-encount'ring summit, journey thou Along the southward way, until thou reach The Amazonian squadrons, hating man, Who now Themiscyra inhabit, round Thermodon's stream, whereby is Salmydessus The iron jaw of ocean, merciless To sailors, and the stepmother of ships. They, with glad spirits, will conduct thee on: And in the lake's close portals thou wilt find
Cimmeria's isthmus, which it thee behoves To leave, and traverse the Mæotian strait: And ever among men a mighty fame Shall mark thy traversing, whence Bosphorus It shall be called: leaving Europe's plain, Thy feet shall stand on Asia's continent. And think ye that the tyrant of the gods Is obdurate alike in all things? He, A god, desiring union with this mortal, Hath smote her with the curse of wandering. Ah, maiden! thou hast met a cruel spouse; For all the words, which erewhile thou hast heard, Are not yet in their prologue. Io. Woe! woe! woe! Pro. Thou also dost acclaim and groan! How wilt thou, What time thou hearest thy remaining griefs? Io. Some grief remaining canst thou name to me? Pro. A tempest-troubled sea of fateful woe.
Io. Then what availeth me my life? Why not Hurl myself headlong from this rigid rock; That, dashing 'gainst the plain, I may be freed From all mine anguish? Better once to die, Than suffer miserably all my days. Pro. A heavy burden, wouldst thou find my pangs, To whom the Fates have not appointed death; For death had loosed the fetter and the woe: But now before my sight there lies no bound To agony—ere Jove from empire fall. Io. But can Jove ever from dominion fall? Pro. Thou wouldst rejoice, I ween, to see that sight. Io. Why should I not, who suffer ills from Jove? Pro. Then learn, that it is even so. Io.By whom Shall he be spoiled of his imperial sceptre? Pro. Himself will do it, by his counsel weak. Io. But how? Discover—if thou canst unharm'd.
Pro. A marriage union will he form, whereof He after shall repent. Io.Divine or human? If it be utterable, speak. Pro.And wherefore Should I determine which? It is not meet That these things should be spoken. Io.Shall he then Be from his throne uprooted by his spouse? Pro. Whose son shall be his sire's superior. Io. Is there no refuge for him, from this fate? Pro. No refuse, until I from fetter freed— Io. And who shall free thee, if Jove will it not? Pro. Fate hath appointed one from thee descended. Io. How say'st thou? Shall my son deliver thee? Pro. The third in generation after ten. Io. The prophecy is still obscure. Pro.Nor seek To learn thy proper woes.
Io.A benefit Having foreshown me, now despoil me not. Pro. Of two discourses, I will give thee one. Io. What two? Declare; and yield the choice to me. Pro. I yield it. Choose that I should clearly name Thy future woes, or my deliverer. Cho. Vouchsafe one grace to her, and one to me; Nor do dishonor to our mutual prayers; To her narrate her future wandering; To me, who shall deliver. This I yearn for. Pro. Since ye desire it, I will question not, Narrating all ye would. Io, to thee, Thy various wand'rings I will first unfold. Which in the book-memorial of thy mind Do thou inscribe. What time thy steps have pass'd The strait, the boundary of continents, Toward the fire-eyed, sun-track'd orient— ********
Daring the ocean's mighty roar, until Thou come unto Cisthenes' Gorgon plains, Where dwell the Phorcides, three ancient maids, Swan-form'd, possessive of one common eye, And single-tooth'd; on whom doth never gaze The rayed sun, nor yet the nightly moon. And near them are their winged sisters three, The Gorgons, serpent-hair'd and man-abhorr'd, Whom mortal cannot look upon and live; I warn thee against such: but hearken now Unto another dreary spectacle. Beware of Jove's sharp-mouth'd, unbarking dogs, The griffins; and the Arimaspian host, One-eyed, horse-governing, who dwell beside The gold-imbubbling wave of Pluto's stream: To whom approach not. To a distant clime Thou com'st, a dusky race, that sojourns near The fountain of the Sun, where Niger flows. Wind thou along her shores, until thou reach
Cleft ground, where from the hills of Byblinus, The Nile outpours his holy, pleasant wave. He will conduct thee to the Niiean land, Triangular, whereon a long abode Tate hath ordained for thy sons and thee. If aught I speak obscure, or aught perplex'd, Repeat thy question, make thy knowledge clear. Behold, I have more leisure than I covet. Cho. If thou can utter aught remaining still, Or aught omitted, of her wasting woes, Say on: but if the all be now reveal'd, Yield us the pray'd-for grace thou wottest of. Pro. Her ear hath heard her wand'ring's utmost bound; And that she eke may know she heard not vainly, I will declare her toils already past, Giving this witness to my prophecies. Words multitudinous I leave, and seek The goal from whence her wand'rings first began;
For thou didst wander to Molossian plains, Around sublime Dodona, where abide The seat and oracle of Jove Thesprotian; And, sign incredible! the prophet oaks, By whom, without enigma, lucidly, Hailëd thou wast as one about to be Jove's glorious bride—if thee that title charm! From thence impelled, thou didst rush along The sea-side path to Rhea's mighty bay, Whence thou wast driv'n with wand'rings retrograde; And time shall come, when that recess of sea, Know soothly, shall be named Ionian, Memorial unto all men of thy steps. To thee these words are signals of my mind, How it views more than what is visible: But unto you, and her, I will in common Declare the rest, pursuing the same track Of previous words. There is a town, Canobus, Earth's bourne, upon the mouth and banks of Nile.
There Jove will give thee back thy perfect mind, Laying upon thee in thy solitude, A hand unterrible; and namëd from That touch corrective, thou shalt bear a son To Jove, dark Epaphus, who fruit shall cull From every soil bedew'd by llowing Nile. Nathless, of generations after him The fifth in number, fifty maids, again To Argos shall return unwillingly, Flying the nuptials of their uncle's sons. They, passion'd in their souls, as hawks pursue Closely on doves, shall go to hunt a quarry They should not hunt—but Heav'n shall cross their will— And Græcia shall receive them, vanquishëd By woman war, night-guarded fortitude: For every husband, will a wife destroy. Bathing in blood her doubly-edgëd sword— Would that such nuptials graced mine enemies!
One only maiden, love will melt to spare Her spouse: she shall be blunted in her purpose; Of two things, choosing one; more glad to be Unfamed for courage than pollute with blood: Who, in that land, shall bear a royal race. Long speech is needful to narrate these things Clearly. Enough, that from sue!) seed shall spring The daring and the bow-distinguish'd, he Who shall be my deliv'rer; for e'en thus Mine ancient mother, Themis, prophesied: The how and wherefore, needeth lengthen'd speech To show, nor, learning, wouldst thou profit aught.
Io.
The gangrene and insanity Which striketh to my soul, are burning: The fiery sting is pricking me; My throbbing heart my breast is spurning,
And round and round mine eyes are wheeling, And from their course my steps are reeling, By frenzy's blast impell'd to motion: My tongue is all without a chain, And beat my turbid words in vain 'Gainst dreary Atè's ocean.
Prometheus and Chorus.
Chorus.
Strophe.
And spake it with his tongue; That happier far a marriage is, Our equals form'd among: That ne'er the poor should loving be To those corrupt with luxury, Nor yet to those of high degree.
Antistrophe.
The wedded spouse of Jove! And never may a bridegroom woo me. Of those who dwell above! Because I fear, beholding late Io's spouse-hating virgin state, Tortured by Juno with a wand'ring fate.
Epode.
The eyes of mightiest gods, which I can flee not, Their love upon me fling! Quenchless the strife, impassable the way! I know not what I should become; I see not How I should 'scape Saturnius' counselling. Pro. And yet, albeit absolute of mind, Jove shall wax weak. A marriage he prepares, T' accomplish which, shall hurl him power-extinct
From empire's seat: and thus shall Saturn's curse In every tittle be consummated, Which cursed he, falling from his ancient throne. To Jove no refuge from adversity Can any god reveal, excepting me: I know the refuge, and the means. And now Let him reign on with boldness, confident In the supernal roar, and brandishing In both his hands the dart of fiery breath. Naught shall avail him that he should not fall— Fall shamëd, an intolerable fall. For he himself against himself prepares A foe, a portent irresistible— Devising lire t' outflash the lightning fire, And mighty sound the thunder to outroar, And shatt'ring old Neptunius' trident spear, That oceanic plague, which shaketh earth! Yea! stricken by this evil, Jove shall learn What diff'rence lies between a king and slave.
Cho. In sooth, thou threat'nest Jove with what thou wouldst. Pro. With what I would, and also what will be. Cho. And must we look for one to master Jove? Pro. These chains weigh lighter than his future grief. Cho. Dost thou not fear, such daring words ejecting? Pro. What should I fear, who cannot die? Cho.But he Can visit thee with woe more dread than death. Pro. Whate'er can be accomplish'd, I foreknow. Cho. Wise are the worshippers of Adrastia. Pro. Fear, worship, flatter—whosoever reigns! To me your reigning Jove is less than naught. Let him act on, reign on, for a brief time, E'en as he will: he will not rule us long. But, lo! I see the errand-boy of Jove,— The newly-crowned tyrant's servile drudge: Doubtless he comes, announcing something new.
Prometheus, Chorus, and Hermes.
Her. Thee, sophist, who dost pass in bitterness
Thy bitter woes; thee, sinner ’gainst the gods,
And honorer of men, and thief of fire;
Thee do I hail ! Our Sire commandeth thee
To say what marriage moves thy glorying,
By which he shall be hurl’d from empire’s seat:
And this, in naught obscurely, but in all
Clearly reveal; nor cast before me, Titan,
Thy double paths. Thou mayst perceive that Jove
Is not appeasëd by such policy.
Pro. Thy words are dignified, and full of wisdom,
As doth befit the menial of the gods.
New gods, ye newly reign, and think forsooth
T’ inhabit citadels impregnable.
Have I not seen two tyrants hurlëd thence?
Yea ! and the third, the now King, I shall see,
Disgracefully and quickly. Seem I not
To quail and tremble 'neath the modern gods? Far be it from my spirit! But for thee, Along the way thou earnest hasten back; For naught which thou demandest shalt thou hear. Her. And yet, of old, by such audacities, Into this woe thou didst impel thyself. Pro. I would not barter—thou mayst learn that from me— My state of woe for thine of servitude. Better, I ween, to serve this rock, than be The faithful messenger of father Jove. Thus unto scoffers we retort their scoffs. Her. Thou seem'st to glory in this state of thine. Pro. I glory! Would that I could see my foes So glorying! and 'mong them I name thee. Her. Me also dost thou inculpate in aught Of thy misfortunes? Pro.In one word, I hate The universal gods, who wrongfully,
For all my kindness, paid me back unkindness. Her. I hear thee raging in a mighty madness. Pro. If it be madness to abhor my foes, May I be mad! Her.If thou wert prosperous, Thou wouldst not be endurable. Pro. Alas! Her. Jove knoweth not that word. Pro. Maturing Time Teacheth all things. Her.Yet thou hast learn'd no wisdom. Pro. None—since I commune with a slave like thee. Her. Of all our Sire demands, thou utt'rest nought. Pro. In very sooth, I owe him gratitude! Her. Thou tauntest me, as if I were a child. Pro. No child thou art, but weaker than a child, If thou expect to gather aught from me. Nor is there chast'ning, nor device, whereby Jove shall constrain me to reveal these things,
Or ere he loosen my pernicious chains. Then let the torrid flame be headlong hurl'd: With white-wing'd snows and subterranean thunders, Let him commingle and astonish all. Nothing shall bend me, to declare by whom He will be hurled from dominion. Her. See now, if these things will avail thee aught. Pro. They have been all foreseen, precounsellëd. Her. Endure, vain Titan, O, at last, endure To turn a prudent brow on present pain. Pro. In vain thou chafest me with exhortation, As waves the rock. Admit not in thy thought That I, fear-struck by Jove, shall prove a woman, And supplicate him, loathëd as he is, With feminine upliftings of mine hands, To free me from these chains. Far be it from me! Her. It seems that I have spoken much and vainly; For nothing art thou soften'd or appeased By prayers of mine; but, gnawing at the bit,
E'en as a new-yoked courser, strugglest thou, And wariest 'gainst the rein; and gath'rest strength From thy weak sophisms. But 'mong th' unwise, Weaker than nothing is self-will, self-taught. Lo! if thou be unmovëd by my words, What tempest and inevitable wave Of evil will o'erwhelm thee! First, our Sire Will cleave with thunder, and with bolted flame This pinnacle of rock, and hide thy form; And there its stony arms shall rivet thee. Having accomplish'd a long lapse of time, Thou shalt revisit light; and Jove's wing'd dog, Sanguineous, the ferocious eagle, cow'ring All day, an uninvited banqueter, The ragged garment of thy form shall rend, And make his feast upon thy dusky liver. Nor any issue to such woe expect, Or ere some god, vicarious in thy pangs, Appear, and visit unillumined hell,
And the Tartarean depth caliginous. Therefore take counsel: this is not a boast, Vainly devised, but actually denounced. The lips of Jove are impotent to lie, And consummation waiteth on the word. Weigh well and ponder: thou shouldst not esteem Self-will a better guide than prudent counsel. Cho. Hermes appears to us to argue well: For he exhorts thee to deliver up Self-willedness, and seek for prudent counsel. Yield thou: the error of the wise is shame.
Prometheus.
To me, foreknowing all. For those who hate, to injure those who hate, Not strangely doth befal. Then let the shaggy lightning be
With double sharpness cast on me!
Let air be lacerate with thunder, And with the savage wind's convulsion; And earth's foundations rooted under, Shudder to the blast's impulsion; And let the waters of the deep Their foam with dreadful roaring heap Along the planets' heav'nly way; And let him hurl my body low To Tartarus, imped'd to go By eddies strong of fated woe! Yet me he hath not power to slay.
Hermes.
From those of madness-stricken brain: For what of madness seems not his? And if indeed he joy in this, Why should he loosen frenzy's chain? But ye, who in the Titan's pain
Bind communion griefs, with speed From this region recede, Lest the thunder's roaring be Your blaster into idiocy.
Chorus.
Whereby thou mayst persuade me aught For this, by thy perversion, lies A thing repugnant to my thought. Wherefore dost thou counsel me To work out such iniquity? It is my will to share his fate: For traitors I have learn'd to hate— Nor any sin our being bears, More hateful to my soul than theirs.
Hermes.
Nor, hunted by the dogs of woe, Accuse your fortunes, and maintain Jove sent you unexpected pain. Yourselves have done it. Knowingly, From guile and sudden influence free, Through your own folly have ye met The toils of Ate's mighty net.
Prometheus.
From her stillness Earth is thrust! And growls the thunder's echoed roar; And glares the lightning's eddied fire; And the whirlwinds wheel the dust; And blasts of every wind outleap, Each to each with confluent ire; And air is mingled with the deep.
Such fearful curses visibly Jove's right-hand impelleth hither. O, my mother's pride!—O, æther! To all light-rolling; dost thou see How I suffer wrongfully?