SECOND PART

SECOND PARTReenter from the palaceInachus,withArgeiaandIo.INACHUS.Thatbut a small and easy thing now seems,Which from my house when I came forth at noonA dream was and beyond the reach of man.’Tis now a fancy of the will, a word,Liberty’s lightest prize. Yet still as oneWho loiters on the threshold of delight,Delaying pleasure for the love of pleasure,I dally—Come, Argeia, and share my triumph!And set our daughter by thee; though her eyesAre young, there are no eyes this day so youngAs shall forget this day—while one thing moreI ask of thee; this evil, will it light851On me or on my house or on mankind?Pr.Scarce on mankind, O Inachus, for ZeusA second time failing will not againMeasure his spite against their better fate.And now the terror, which awhile o’er EarthIts black wings spread, shall up to Heaven ascendAnd gnaw the tyrant’s heart: for there is whisperedA word gone forth to scare the mighty gods;How one must soon be born, and born of men,860Who shall drive out their impious host from heaven,And from their skyey dwellings rule mankindIn truth and love. So scarce on man will fallThis evil, nay, nor on thyself, O king;Thy name shall live an honoured name in Greece.In.Then on my house ’twill be. Know’st thou no more?Pr.Know I no more? Ay, if my purpose fail’Tis not for lack of knowing: if I suffer,’Tis not that poisonous fear hath slurred her task,Or let brave resolution walk unarmed.870My ears are callous to the threats of Zeus,The direful penalties his oath hath laidOn every good that I in heart and handAm sworn to accomplish, and for all his threats,Lest their accomplishment should outrun mine,Am bound the more. Nay, nor his evil minions,Nor force, nor strength, shall bend me to his will.ARGEIA.Alas, alas, what heavy words are these,That in the place of joy forbid your tongue,That cloud and change his face, while desperate sorrow880Sighs in his heart? I came to share a triumph:All is dismay and terror. What is this?In.True, wife, I spake of triumph, and I told theeThe winter-withering hope of my whole lifeHas flower’d to-day in amaranth: what the hopeThou knowest, who hast shared; but the conditionI told thee not and thou hast heard: this prophet,Who comes to bring us fire, hath said that ZeusWills not the gift he brings, and will be wrothWith us that take it.Ar.O doleful change, I cameIn pious purpose, nay, I heard within891The hymn to glorious Zeus: I rose and said,The mighty god now bends, he thrusts asideHis heavenly supplicants to hear the prayerOf Inachus his servant; let him hear.O let him turn away now lest he hear.Nay, frown not on me; though a woman’s voiceThat counsels is but heard impatiently,Yet by thy love, and by the sons I bare thee,By this our daughter, our last ripening fruit,900By our long happiness and hope of more,Hear me and let me speak.In.Well, wife, speak on.Ar.Thy voice forbids more than thy words invite:Yet say whence comes this stranger. Know’st thou not?Yet whencesoe’er, if he but wish us well,He will not bound his kindness in a day.Do nought in haste. Send now to SicyonAnd fetch thy son Phorôneus, for his stakeIn this is more than thine, and he is wise.’Twere well Phorôneus and Ægialeus910Were both here: maybe they would both refuseThe strange conditions which this stranger brings.Were we not happy too before he came?Doth he not offer us unhappiness?Bid him depart, and at some other time,When you have well considered, then return.In.’Tis his conditions that we now shall hear.Ar.O hide them yet! Are there not tales enoughOf what the wrathful gods have wrought on men?Nay, ’twas this very fire thou now would’st take,Which vain Salmoneus, son of Æolus,921Made boast to have, and from his rattling carThrew up at heaven to mock the lightning. HimThe thunderer stayed not to deride, but sentOne blinding fork, that in the vacant skyShook like a serpent’s tongue, which is but seenIn memory, and he was not, or for burialRode with the ashes of his royal cityUpon the whirlwind of the riven air.And after him his brother Athamas,King of Orchomenos, in frenzy fellFor Hera’s wrath, and raving killed his son;And would have killed fair Ino, but that she fledInto the sea, preferring there to woo934The choking waters, rather than that the armWhich had so oft embraced should do her wrong.For which old crimes the gods yet unappeasedDemand a sacrifice, and the king’s sonDreads the priest’s knife, and all the city mourns.Or shall I say what shameful fury it wasWith which Poseidon smote Pasiphaë,But for neglect of a recorded vow:Or how Actæon fared of ArtemisWhen he surprised her, most himself surprised:And even while he looked his boasted bowFell from his hands, and through his veins there ranA strange oblivious trouble, darkening senseTill he knew nothing but a hideous fearWhich bade him fly, and faster, as behindHe heard his hounds give tongue, that through the wood950Were following, closing, caught him and tore him down.And many more thus perished in their prime;Lycaon and his fifty sons, whom ZeusIn their own house spied on, and unawaresWatching at hand, from his disguise arose,And overset the table where they satAround their impious feast and slew them all:Alcyonè and Ceyx, queen and king,Who for their arrogance were changed to birds:And Cadmus now a serpent, once a king:960And saddest Niobe, whom not the loveOf Leto aught availed, when once her boastWent out, though all her crime was too much prideOf heaven’s most precious gift, her children fair.Six daughters had she, and six stalwart sons;But Leto bade her two destroy the twelve.And somewhere now, among lone mountain rocksOn Sipylus, where couch the nymphs at nightWho dance all day by Achelous’ stream,The once proud mother lies, herself a rock,970And in cold breast broods o’er the goddess’ wrong.In.Now hush thy fear. See how thou tremblest still.Or if thou fear, fear passion; for the freshesOf tenderness and motherly love will drownThe eye of judgment: yet, since even excessOf the soft quality fits woman well,I praise thee; nor would ask thee less to aidWith counsel, than in love to share my choice.Tho’ weak thy hands to poise, thine eye may markThis balance, how the good of all outweighs980The good of one or two, though these be us.Let not reluctance shame the sacrificeWhich in another thou wert first to praise.Ar.Alas for me, for thee and for our children,Who, being our being, having all our having,If they fare ill, our pride lies in the dust.In.O deem not a man’s children are but thoseOut of his loins engendered—our spirit’s loveHath such prolific consequence, that VirtueCometh of ancestry more pure than blood,990And counts her seed as sand upon the shore.Happy is he whose body’s sons proclaimTheir father’s honour, but more blest to whomThe world is dutiful, whose children springOut of all nations, and whose pride the proudRise to regenerate when they call him sire.Ar.Thus, husband, ever have I bought and buyNobleness cheaply being linked with thee.Forgive my weakness; see, I now am bold;Tell me the worst, I’ll hear and wish ’twere more.In.Retire—thy tears perchance may stir again.Ar.Nay, I am full of wonder and would hear.Pr.Bid me not tell if ye have fear to hear;But have no fear. Knowledge of future things1004Can nothing change man’s spirit: and though he seemTo aim his passion darkly, like a shaftShot toward some fearful sound in thickest night,He hath an owl’s eye, and must blink at day.The springs of memory, that feed alikeHis thought and action, draw from furthest timeTheir constant source, and hardly brook constraintOf actual circumstance, far less attendOn glassed futurity; nay, death itself,His fate unquestioned, his foretasted pain,The certainty foreknown of things unknown,Cannot discourage his habitual being1016In its appointed motions, to make waverHis eager hand, nor loosen the desireOf the most feeble melancholy heartEven from the unhopefullest of all her dreams.In.Since then I long to know, now something sayOf what will come to mine when I am gone.Pr.And let the maid too hear, for ’tis of herI speak, to tell her whither she should turnThe day ye drive her forth from hearth and home.In.What sayst thou? drive her out? and we? from home?1026Banish the comfort of our eyes? Nay ratherBelieve that these obedient hands will tearThe heart out of my breast, ere it do this.Pr. When her wild cries arouse the house at night,And, running to her bed, ye see her set1031Upright in trancèd sleep, her starting hairWith deathly sweat bedewed, in horror shaking,Her eyeballs fixed upon the unbodied dark,Through which a draping mist of luminous gloomDrifts from her couch away,—when, if asleep,She walks as if awake, and if awakeDreams, and as one who nothing hears or sees,Lives in a sick and frantic mood, whose causeShe understands not or is loth to tell—Ar.Ah, ah, my child, my child!—Dost thou feel aught?1041Speak to me—nay, ’tis nothing—hearken not.Pr.Ye then distraught with sorrow, neither knowingWhether to save were best or lose, will seekApollo’s oracle.In.And what the answer?Will it discover nought to avert this sorrow?Pr.Or else thy whole race perish root and branch.In.Alas! alas!Pr.Yet shall she live though lost; from human formChanged, that thou wilt not know thy daughter more.In.Woe, woe! my thought was praying for her death.1051Pr.In Hera’s temple shall her prison beAt high Mycenæ, till from heaven be sentHermes, with song to soothe and sword to slayThe beast whose hundred eyes devour the door.In.Enough, enough is told, unless indeed,The beast once slain, thou canst restore our child.Pr.Nay, with her freedom will her wanderingsBegin. Come hither, child—nay, let her come:What words remain to speak will not offend her,And shall in memory quicken, when she looksTo learn where she should go;—for go she must,Stung by the venomous fly, whose angry flightShe still will hear about her, till she come1064To lay her sevenfold-carried burden downUpon the Æthiop shore where he shall reign.In.But say—say first, what form—Pr.In snow-white hideOf those that feel the goad and wear the yoke.In.Round-hoofed, or such as tread with cloven foot?Pr.Wide-horned, large-eyed, broad-fronted, and the feet1070Cloven which carry her to her far goal.In.Will that of all these evils be the term?Pr.Ay, but the journey first which she must learn.Hear now, my child; the day when thou art free,Leaving the lion-gate, descend and strikeThe Trêtan road to Nemea, skirting wideThe unhunted forest o’er the watered plainTo walled Cleônæ, whence the traversed streamTo Corinth guides: there enter not, but passTo narrow Isthmus, where Poseidon won1080A country from Apollo, and through the townOf Crommyon, till along the robber’s roadPacing, thy left eye meet the westering sunO’er Geraneia, and thou reach the hillOf Megara, where Car thy brother’s babeIn time shall rule; next past Eleusis climbStony Panactum and the pine-clad slopesOf Phyle; shun the left-hand way, and keepThe rocks; the second day thy feet shall treadThe plains of Græa, whence the roadway servesAulis and Mycalessus to the point1091Of vext Euripus: fear not then the stream,Nor scenting think to taste, but plunging inBreast its salt current to the further shore.For on this island mayst thou lose awhileThy maddening pest, and rest and pasture find,And from the heafs of bold Macistus seeThe country left and sought: but when thou feelThy torment urge, move down, recross the flood,And west by Harma’s fencèd gap arriveAt seven-gated Thebes: thy friendly goddessOngan Athenè has her seat without.1102Chor.Now if she may not stay thy toilsome destined steps,I pray that she may slay for thee the maddening fly.Pr.Keep not her sanctuary long, but seekBœotian Ascra, where the Muses’ fount,Famed Aganippè, wells: OcaleaPass, and Tilphusa’s northern steeps descendBy Alalcomenæ, the goddess’ town.Guard now the lake’s low shore, till thou have crossedHyrcana and Cephissus, the last streams1111Which feed its reedy pools, when thou shalt comeBetween two mountains that enclose the wayBy peakèd Abæ to Hyampolis.The right-hand path that thither parts the valeOpes to Cyrtonè and the Locrian lands;Toward Elateia thou, where o’er the marshA path with stones is laid; and thence beyondTo Thronium, Tarphè, and Thermopylæ,Where rocky Lamia views the Maliac gulf.Chor.If further she should go, will she not seeThat other Argos, the Dodonian land?1122Pr.Crossing the Phthian hills thou next shalt reachPharsalus, and Olympus’ peakèd snowsShall guide thee o’er the green Pelasgic plainsFor many a day, but to Argissa comeLet old Peneius thy slow pilot beThrough Tempè, till they turn upon his leftCrowning the wooded slopes with splendours bare.Thence issuing forth on the Pierian shoreNorthward of Ossa thou shalt touch the landsOf Macedon.Chor.Alas, we wish thee speed,1132But bid thee here farewell; for out of GreeceThou goest ’mongst the folk whose chattering speechIs like the voice of birds, nor home againWilt thou return.Pr.Thy way along the coastLies till it southward turn, when thou shalt seekWhere wide on Strymon’s plain the hindered floodSpreads like a lake; thy course to his opposeAnd face him to the mountain whence he comes:Which doubled, Thrace receives thee: barbarous names1141Of mountain, town and river, and a peopleStrange to thine eyes and ears, the Agathyrsi,Of pictured skins, who owe no marriage law,And o’er whose gay-spun garments sprent with goldTheir hanging hair is blue. Their torrent swimThat measures Europe in two parts, and goEastward along the sea, to mount the landsBeyond man’s dwelling, and the rising steepsThat face the sun untrodden and unnamed.—1150Know to earth’s verge remote thou then art come,The Scythian tract and wilderness forlorn,Through whose rude rocks and frosty silencesNo path shall guide thee then, nor my words now.There as thou toilest o’er the treacherous snows,A sound then thou shalt hear to stop thy breath,And prick thy trembling ears; a far-off cry,Whose throat seems the white mountain and its passionThe woe of earth. Flee not, nor turn not back:Let thine ears drink and guide thine eyes to seeThat sight whose terrors shall assuage thy terror,Whose pain shall kill thy pain. Stretched on the rock,Naked to scorching sun, to pinching frost,1163To wind and storm and beaks of wingèd fiendsFrom year to year he lies. Refrain to askHis name and crime—nay, haply when thou see himThou wilt remember—’tis thy tyrant’s foe,Man’s friend, who pays his chosen penalty.Draw near, my child, for he will know thy need,And point from land to land thy further path.ChorusO miserable man, hear now the worst.O weak and tearful race,Born to unhappiness, see now thy cause1173Doomed and accurst!It surely were enough, the bad and goodTogether mingled, against chance and illTo strive, and prospering by turns,Now these, now those, now folly and now skill,Alike by means well understoodOr ’gainst all likelihood;Loveliness slaving to the unlovely willThat overrides the right and laughs at law.But always all in awe1183And imminent dread:Because there is no mischief thought or said,Imaginable or unguessed,But it may come to be; nor home of rest,Nor hour secure: but anywhere,At any moment; in the air,Or on the earth or sea,Or in the fairAnd tender body itself it lurks, creeps in,Or seizes suddenly,1193Torturing, burning, withering, devouring,Shaking, destroying; till tormented lifeSides with the slayer, not to be,And from the cruel strifeFalls to fate overpowering.Or if some patient heart,In toilsome steps of duty tread apart,1200Thinking to win her peace within herself,And thus awhile succeed:She must see others bleed,At others’ misery moan,And learn the common suffering is her own,From which it is no freedom to be freed:Nay, Nature, her best nurse,Is tender but to breed a finer sense,Which she may easier wound, with smart the worseAnd torture more intense.1210And no strength for thee but the thought of duty,Nor any solace but the love of beauty.O Right’s toil unrewarded!O Love’s prize unaccorded!I say this might suffice,O tearful and unstableAnd miserable man,Were’t but from day to dayThy miserable lot,This might suffice, I say,1220To term thee miserable.But thou of all thine ills too must take thought,Must grow familiar till no curse astound thee,With tears recall the past,With tears the times forecast;With tears, with tears thou hastThe scapeless net spread in thy sight around thee.How then support thy fate,O miserable man, if this befall,That he who loves thee and would aid thee, daringTo raise an arm for thy deliverance,1231Must for his courage suffer worse than all?In.Bravest deliverer, for thy prophecyHas torn the veil which hid thee from my eyes,If thyself art that spirit, of whom some thingsWere darkly spoken,—nor can I doubt thou art,Being that the heaven its fire withholds not from theeNor time his secrets,—tell me now thy name,That I may praise thee rightly; and my lateUnwitting words pardon thou, and these who stillIn blinded wonder kneel not to thy love.1241Pr.Speak not of love. See, I am moved with hate,And fiercest anger, which will sometimes spurThe heart to extremity, till it forgetThat there is any joy save furious war.Nay, were there now another deed to do,Which more could hurt our enemy than this,Which here I stand to venture, here would I leave theeConspiring at his altar, and fly offTo plunge the branding terror in his soul.But now the rising passion of my will1251Already jars his reaching sense, alreadyFrom heaven he bids his minion Hermes forthTo bring his only rebel to his feet.Therefore no more delay, the time is short.In.I take, I take. ’Tis but for thee to give.Pr.O heavenly fire, life’s life, the eye of day,Whose nimble waves upon the starry nightOf boundless ether love to play,Carrying commands to every gliding spriteTo feed all things with colour, from the rayOf thy bright-glancing, white1162And silver-spinning light:Unweaving its thin tissue for the bowOf Iris, separating countless huesOf various splendour for the grateful flowersTo crown the hasting hours,Changing their special garlands as they choose.O spirit of rage and might,Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,And bid earth’s stubborn metals flow like oil,Her porphyrous heart-veins boil;1272Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;Let now this flame, which did to life awakenBeyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,And thence by me was taken,And in this reed was borne,A smothered theft and gift to man below,Here with my breath revive,Restore thy lapsèd realm, and be the sireOf many an earthly fire.1281O flame, flame bright and live,Appear upon the altar as I blow.Chor.’Twas in the marish reed.See to his mouth he sets its hollow fluteAnd breathes therein with heed,As one who from a pipe with breathings muteWill music’s voice evoke.—See, the curl of a cloud.In.The smoke, the smoke!1290Semichorus.Thin clouds mounting higher.In.’Tis smoke, the smoke of fire.Semichorus.Thick they come and thicker,Quick arise and quicker,Higher still and higher.Their wreaths the wood enfold.—I see a spot of gold.They spring from a spot of gold,Red gold, deep amongThe leaves: a golden tongue.1300O behold, behold,Dancing tongues of gold,That leaping aloft flicker,Higher still and higher.In.’Tis fire, the flame of fire!Semichorus.The blue smoke overheadIs turned to angry red.The fire, the fire, it stirs.Hark, a crackling sound,As when all around1310Ripened pods of furzeSplit in the parching sunTheir dry caps one by one,And shed their seeds on the ground.—Ah! what clouds arise.Away! O come away.The wind-wafted smoke,Blowing all astray,[Prometheus, afterwriting his nameon the altar, goesout unobserved.]Blinds and pricks my eyes.Ah! I choke, I choke.—All the midst is rent:See the twigs are allBy the flaming spentWhite and gold, and fall.How they writhe, resist,Blacken, flake, and twist,Snap in gold and fall.—See the stars that mount,Momentary brightFlitting specks of light1330More than eye can count.Insects of the air,As in summer nightShow a fire in flyingFlickering here and there,Waving past and dying.—Look, a common coneOf the mountain pineSolid gold is grown;Till its scales outshine,1340Standing each aloneIn the spiral rowsOf their fair design,All the brightest showsOf the sun’s decline.—Hark, there came a hiss,Like a startled snakeSliding through the brake.Oh, and what is this?Smaller flames that flee1350Sidelong from the tree,Hark, they hiss, they hiss.—How the gay flames flicker,Spurting, dancing, leapingQuicker yet and quicker,Higher yet and higher,—Flaming, flaring, fuming,Cracking, crackling, creeping,Hissing and consuming:Mighty is the fire.1360In.Stay, stay, cease your rejoicings. Where is he,The prophet,—nay, what say I,—the god, the giver?Chor.He is not here—he is gone.In.Search, search around.Search all, search well.Chor.He is gone,—he is not here.In.The palace gate lies open: go, Argeia,Maybe he went within: go seek him there.[Exit Ar.Look down the sea road, down the country road:Follow him if ye see him.Chor.He is not there.In.Strain, strain your eyes: look well: search everywhere.Look townwards—is he there?Part of Chorus returning.He is not there.—Other part returning.He is not there.Ar. re-entering.He is not there.1371Chor.O see!Chor.See where?Chor.See on the altar—see!Chor.What see ye on the altar?Chor.Here in frontWords newly writ.Chor.What words?Chor.A name—In.Ay true—There is the name. How like a child was I,That I must wait till these dumb letters gaveThe shape and soul to knowledge: when the godStood here so self-revealed to ears and eyesThat, ’tis a god I said, yet wavering still,Doubting what god,—and now, who else but he?I knew him, yet not well; I knew him not:Prometheus—ay, Prometheus. Know ye, my children,1382This name we see was writ by him we seek.’Tis his own name, his own heart-stirring name,Feared and revered among the immortal gods;Divine Prometheus: see how here the largeCadmeian characters run, scoring outThe hated title of his ancient foe,—To Zeus ’twas made,—and now ’tis to Prometheus—Writ with the charrèd reed—theft upon theft.He hath stolen from Zeus his altar, and with his fireHath lit our sacrifice unto himself.1392Ió Prometheus, friend and firegiver,For good or ill thy thefts and gifts are ours.We worshipped thee unknowing.Chor.But now where is he?In.No need to search—we shall not see him more.We look in vain. The high gods when they choosePut on and off the solid visible shapeWhich more deceives our hasty sense, than whenSeeing them not we judge they stand aloof.And he, he now is gone; his work is done:’Tis ours to see it be not done in vain.1402Chor.What is to do? speak, bid, command, we fly.In.Go some and fetch more wood to feed the fire;And some into the city to proclaimThat fire is ours: and send out messengersTo Corinth, Sicyon, Megara and AthensAnd to Mycenæ, telling we have fire:And bid that in the temples they prepareTheir altars, and send hither careful menTo learn of me what things the time requires.[Exit part of Chorus.The rest remain to end our feast; and nowSeeing this altar is no more to Zeus,1413But shall for ever be with smouldering heatFed for the god who first set fire thereon,Change ye your hymns, which in the praise of ZeusYe came to sing, and change the prayer for fireWhich ye were wont to raise, to high thanksgiving,Praising aloud the giver and his gift.Part of Chorus.Now our happy feast hath ending,While the sun in heaven descendingSees us gathered round a lightBorn to cheer his vacant night.1423Praising him to-day who cameBearing far his heavenly flame:Came to crown our king’s desireWith his gift of golden fire.Semichorus.My heart, my heart is freed.Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow,A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed.It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go.I have no fear: I praise distinguishing duly:I praise the love that I love and I worship truly.Goodness I praise, not might,Nor more will I speak of wrong,1435But of lovingkindness and right;And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song.I praise him whom I have seen:As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth,Of gentle and lovely mien,With the step and the eyes of truth,As a god,—O were I a god, but thus to be man!As a god, I set him aboveThe rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love,The words of his mouth rare and precious,His eyes’ glance and the smile of his lips are love.He is the one1447Alone of all the gods,Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son,Who hates the wrongs they have done.He is the one I adore.For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,—And he promised us more and more,—For what may we not hope?ODE

Reenter from the palaceInachus,withArgeiaandIo.

INACHUS.

Thatbut a small and easy thing now seems,Which from my house when I came forth at noonA dream was and beyond the reach of man.’Tis now a fancy of the will, a word,Liberty’s lightest prize. Yet still as oneWho loiters on the threshold of delight,Delaying pleasure for the love of pleasure,I dally—Come, Argeia, and share my triumph!And set our daughter by thee; though her eyesAre young, there are no eyes this day so youngAs shall forget this day—while one thing moreI ask of thee; this evil, will it light851On me or on my house or on mankind?Pr.Scarce on mankind, O Inachus, for ZeusA second time failing will not againMeasure his spite against their better fate.And now the terror, which awhile o’er EarthIts black wings spread, shall up to Heaven ascendAnd gnaw the tyrant’s heart: for there is whisperedA word gone forth to scare the mighty gods;How one must soon be born, and born of men,860Who shall drive out their impious host from heaven,And from their skyey dwellings rule mankindIn truth and love. So scarce on man will fallThis evil, nay, nor on thyself, O king;Thy name shall live an honoured name in Greece.In.Then on my house ’twill be. Know’st thou no more?Pr.Know I no more? Ay, if my purpose fail’Tis not for lack of knowing: if I suffer,’Tis not that poisonous fear hath slurred her task,Or let brave resolution walk unarmed.870My ears are callous to the threats of Zeus,The direful penalties his oath hath laidOn every good that I in heart and handAm sworn to accomplish, and for all his threats,Lest their accomplishment should outrun mine,Am bound the more. Nay, nor his evil minions,Nor force, nor strength, shall bend me to his will.

Thatbut a small and easy thing now seems,

Which from my house when I came forth at noon

A dream was and beyond the reach of man.

’Tis now a fancy of the will, a word,

Liberty’s lightest prize. Yet still as one

Who loiters on the threshold of delight,

Delaying pleasure for the love of pleasure,

I dally—Come, Argeia, and share my triumph!

And set our daughter by thee; though her eyes

Are young, there are no eyes this day so young

As shall forget this day—while one thing more

I ask of thee; this evil, will it light851

On me or on my house or on mankind?

Pr.Scarce on mankind, O Inachus, for ZeusA second time failing will not againMeasure his spite against their better fate.And now the terror, which awhile o’er EarthIts black wings spread, shall up to Heaven ascendAnd gnaw the tyrant’s heart: for there is whisperedA word gone forth to scare the mighty gods;How one must soon be born, and born of men,860Who shall drive out their impious host from heaven,And from their skyey dwellings rule mankindIn truth and love. So scarce on man will fallThis evil, nay, nor on thyself, O king;Thy name shall live an honoured name in Greece.

Pr.Scarce on mankind, O Inachus, for Zeus

A second time failing will not again

Measure his spite against their better fate.

And now the terror, which awhile o’er Earth

Its black wings spread, shall up to Heaven ascend

And gnaw the tyrant’s heart: for there is whispered

A word gone forth to scare the mighty gods;

How one must soon be born, and born of men,860

Who shall drive out their impious host from heaven,

And from their skyey dwellings rule mankind

In truth and love. So scarce on man will fall

This evil, nay, nor on thyself, O king;

Thy name shall live an honoured name in Greece.

In.Then on my house ’twill be. Know’st thou no more?

Pr.Know I no more? Ay, if my purpose fail’Tis not for lack of knowing: if I suffer,’Tis not that poisonous fear hath slurred her task,Or let brave resolution walk unarmed.870My ears are callous to the threats of Zeus,The direful penalties his oath hath laidOn every good that I in heart and handAm sworn to accomplish, and for all his threats,Lest their accomplishment should outrun mine,Am bound the more. Nay, nor his evil minions,Nor force, nor strength, shall bend me to his will.

Pr.Know I no more? Ay, if my purpose fail

’Tis not for lack of knowing: if I suffer,

’Tis not that poisonous fear hath slurred her task,

Or let brave resolution walk unarmed.870

My ears are callous to the threats of Zeus,

The direful penalties his oath hath laid

On every good that I in heart and hand

Am sworn to accomplish, and for all his threats,

Lest their accomplishment should outrun mine,

Am bound the more. Nay, nor his evil minions,

Nor force, nor strength, shall bend me to his will.

ARGEIA.

Alas, alas, what heavy words are these,That in the place of joy forbid your tongue,That cloud and change his face, while desperate sorrow880Sighs in his heart? I came to share a triumph:All is dismay and terror. What is this?In.True, wife, I spake of triumph, and I told theeThe winter-withering hope of my whole lifeHas flower’d to-day in amaranth: what the hopeThou knowest, who hast shared; but the conditionI told thee not and thou hast heard: this prophet,Who comes to bring us fire, hath said that ZeusWills not the gift he brings, and will be wrothWith us that take it.Ar.O doleful change, I cameIn pious purpose, nay, I heard within891The hymn to glorious Zeus: I rose and said,The mighty god now bends, he thrusts asideHis heavenly supplicants to hear the prayerOf Inachus his servant; let him hear.O let him turn away now lest he hear.Nay, frown not on me; though a woman’s voiceThat counsels is but heard impatiently,Yet by thy love, and by the sons I bare thee,By this our daughter, our last ripening fruit,900By our long happiness and hope of more,Hear me and let me speak.In.Well, wife, speak on.Ar.Thy voice forbids more than thy words invite:Yet say whence comes this stranger. Know’st thou not?Yet whencesoe’er, if he but wish us well,He will not bound his kindness in a day.Do nought in haste. Send now to SicyonAnd fetch thy son Phorôneus, for his stakeIn this is more than thine, and he is wise.’Twere well Phorôneus and Ægialeus910Were both here: maybe they would both refuseThe strange conditions which this stranger brings.Were we not happy too before he came?Doth he not offer us unhappiness?Bid him depart, and at some other time,When you have well considered, then return.In.’Tis his conditions that we now shall hear.Ar.O hide them yet! Are there not tales enoughOf what the wrathful gods have wrought on men?Nay, ’twas this very fire thou now would’st take,Which vain Salmoneus, son of Æolus,921Made boast to have, and from his rattling carThrew up at heaven to mock the lightning. HimThe thunderer stayed not to deride, but sentOne blinding fork, that in the vacant skyShook like a serpent’s tongue, which is but seenIn memory, and he was not, or for burialRode with the ashes of his royal cityUpon the whirlwind of the riven air.And after him his brother Athamas,King of Orchomenos, in frenzy fellFor Hera’s wrath, and raving killed his son;And would have killed fair Ino, but that she fledInto the sea, preferring there to woo934The choking waters, rather than that the armWhich had so oft embraced should do her wrong.For which old crimes the gods yet unappeasedDemand a sacrifice, and the king’s sonDreads the priest’s knife, and all the city mourns.Or shall I say what shameful fury it wasWith which Poseidon smote Pasiphaë,But for neglect of a recorded vow:Or how Actæon fared of ArtemisWhen he surprised her, most himself surprised:And even while he looked his boasted bowFell from his hands, and through his veins there ranA strange oblivious trouble, darkening senseTill he knew nothing but a hideous fearWhich bade him fly, and faster, as behindHe heard his hounds give tongue, that through the wood950Were following, closing, caught him and tore him down.And many more thus perished in their prime;Lycaon and his fifty sons, whom ZeusIn their own house spied on, and unawaresWatching at hand, from his disguise arose,And overset the table where they satAround their impious feast and slew them all:Alcyonè and Ceyx, queen and king,Who for their arrogance were changed to birds:And Cadmus now a serpent, once a king:960And saddest Niobe, whom not the loveOf Leto aught availed, when once her boastWent out, though all her crime was too much prideOf heaven’s most precious gift, her children fair.Six daughters had she, and six stalwart sons;But Leto bade her two destroy the twelve.And somewhere now, among lone mountain rocksOn Sipylus, where couch the nymphs at nightWho dance all day by Achelous’ stream,The once proud mother lies, herself a rock,970And in cold breast broods o’er the goddess’ wrong.In.Now hush thy fear. See how thou tremblest still.Or if thou fear, fear passion; for the freshesOf tenderness and motherly love will drownThe eye of judgment: yet, since even excessOf the soft quality fits woman well,I praise thee; nor would ask thee less to aidWith counsel, than in love to share my choice.Tho’ weak thy hands to poise, thine eye may markThis balance, how the good of all outweighs980The good of one or two, though these be us.Let not reluctance shame the sacrificeWhich in another thou wert first to praise.Ar.Alas for me, for thee and for our children,Who, being our being, having all our having,If they fare ill, our pride lies in the dust.In.O deem not a man’s children are but thoseOut of his loins engendered—our spirit’s loveHath such prolific consequence, that VirtueCometh of ancestry more pure than blood,990And counts her seed as sand upon the shore.Happy is he whose body’s sons proclaimTheir father’s honour, but more blest to whomThe world is dutiful, whose children springOut of all nations, and whose pride the proudRise to regenerate when they call him sire.Ar.Thus, husband, ever have I bought and buyNobleness cheaply being linked with thee.Forgive my weakness; see, I now am bold;Tell me the worst, I’ll hear and wish ’twere more.In.Retire—thy tears perchance may stir again.Ar.Nay, I am full of wonder and would hear.Pr.Bid me not tell if ye have fear to hear;But have no fear. Knowledge of future things1004Can nothing change man’s spirit: and though he seemTo aim his passion darkly, like a shaftShot toward some fearful sound in thickest night,He hath an owl’s eye, and must blink at day.The springs of memory, that feed alikeHis thought and action, draw from furthest timeTheir constant source, and hardly brook constraintOf actual circumstance, far less attendOn glassed futurity; nay, death itself,His fate unquestioned, his foretasted pain,The certainty foreknown of things unknown,Cannot discourage his habitual being1016In its appointed motions, to make waverHis eager hand, nor loosen the desireOf the most feeble melancholy heartEven from the unhopefullest of all her dreams.In.Since then I long to know, now something sayOf what will come to mine when I am gone.Pr.And let the maid too hear, for ’tis of herI speak, to tell her whither she should turnThe day ye drive her forth from hearth and home.In.What sayst thou? drive her out? and we? from home?1026Banish the comfort of our eyes? Nay ratherBelieve that these obedient hands will tearThe heart out of my breast, ere it do this.Pr. When her wild cries arouse the house at night,And, running to her bed, ye see her set1031Upright in trancèd sleep, her starting hairWith deathly sweat bedewed, in horror shaking,Her eyeballs fixed upon the unbodied dark,Through which a draping mist of luminous gloomDrifts from her couch away,—when, if asleep,She walks as if awake, and if awakeDreams, and as one who nothing hears or sees,Lives in a sick and frantic mood, whose causeShe understands not or is loth to tell—Ar.Ah, ah, my child, my child!—Dost thou feel aught?1041Speak to me—nay, ’tis nothing—hearken not.Pr.Ye then distraught with sorrow, neither knowingWhether to save were best or lose, will seekApollo’s oracle.In.And what the answer?Will it discover nought to avert this sorrow?Pr.Or else thy whole race perish root and branch.In.Alas! alas!Pr.Yet shall she live though lost; from human formChanged, that thou wilt not know thy daughter more.In.Woe, woe! my thought was praying for her death.1051

Alas, alas, what heavy words are these,

That in the place of joy forbid your tongue,

That cloud and change his face, while desperate sorrow880

Sighs in his heart? I came to share a triumph:

All is dismay and terror. What is this?

In.True, wife, I spake of triumph, and I told theeThe winter-withering hope of my whole lifeHas flower’d to-day in amaranth: what the hopeThou knowest, who hast shared; but the conditionI told thee not and thou hast heard: this prophet,Who comes to bring us fire, hath said that ZeusWills not the gift he brings, and will be wrothWith us that take it.

In.True, wife, I spake of triumph, and I told thee

The winter-withering hope of my whole life

Has flower’d to-day in amaranth: what the hope

Thou knowest, who hast shared; but the condition

I told thee not and thou hast heard: this prophet,

Who comes to bring us fire, hath said that Zeus

Wills not the gift he brings, and will be wroth

With us that take it.

Ar.O doleful change, I cameIn pious purpose, nay, I heard within891The hymn to glorious Zeus: I rose and said,The mighty god now bends, he thrusts asideHis heavenly supplicants to hear the prayerOf Inachus his servant; let him hear.O let him turn away now lest he hear.Nay, frown not on me; though a woman’s voiceThat counsels is but heard impatiently,Yet by thy love, and by the sons I bare thee,By this our daughter, our last ripening fruit,900By our long happiness and hope of more,Hear me and let me speak.

Ar.O doleful change, I came

In pious purpose, nay, I heard within891

The hymn to glorious Zeus: I rose and said,

The mighty god now bends, he thrusts aside

His heavenly supplicants to hear the prayer

Of Inachus his servant; let him hear.

O let him turn away now lest he hear.

Nay, frown not on me; though a woman’s voice

That counsels is but heard impatiently,

Yet by thy love, and by the sons I bare thee,

By this our daughter, our last ripening fruit,900

By our long happiness and hope of more,

Hear me and let me speak.

In.Well, wife, speak on.

Ar.Thy voice forbids more than thy words invite:Yet say whence comes this stranger. Know’st thou not?Yet whencesoe’er, if he but wish us well,He will not bound his kindness in a day.Do nought in haste. Send now to SicyonAnd fetch thy son Phorôneus, for his stakeIn this is more than thine, and he is wise.’Twere well Phorôneus and Ægialeus910Were both here: maybe they would both refuseThe strange conditions which this stranger brings.Were we not happy too before he came?Doth he not offer us unhappiness?Bid him depart, and at some other time,When you have well considered, then return.

Ar.Thy voice forbids more than thy words invite:

Yet say whence comes this stranger. Know’st thou not?

Yet whencesoe’er, if he but wish us well,

He will not bound his kindness in a day.

Do nought in haste. Send now to Sicyon

And fetch thy son Phorôneus, for his stake

In this is more than thine, and he is wise.

’Twere well Phorôneus and Ægialeus910

Were both here: maybe they would both refuse

The strange conditions which this stranger brings.

Were we not happy too before he came?

Doth he not offer us unhappiness?

Bid him depart, and at some other time,

When you have well considered, then return.

In.’Tis his conditions that we now shall hear.

Ar.O hide them yet! Are there not tales enoughOf what the wrathful gods have wrought on men?Nay, ’twas this very fire thou now would’st take,Which vain Salmoneus, son of Æolus,921Made boast to have, and from his rattling carThrew up at heaven to mock the lightning. HimThe thunderer stayed not to deride, but sentOne blinding fork, that in the vacant skyShook like a serpent’s tongue, which is but seenIn memory, and he was not, or for burialRode with the ashes of his royal cityUpon the whirlwind of the riven air.And after him his brother Athamas,King of Orchomenos, in frenzy fellFor Hera’s wrath, and raving killed his son;And would have killed fair Ino, but that she fledInto the sea, preferring there to woo934The choking waters, rather than that the armWhich had so oft embraced should do her wrong.For which old crimes the gods yet unappeasedDemand a sacrifice, and the king’s sonDreads the priest’s knife, and all the city mourns.Or shall I say what shameful fury it wasWith which Poseidon smote Pasiphaë,But for neglect of a recorded vow:Or how Actæon fared of ArtemisWhen he surprised her, most himself surprised:And even while he looked his boasted bowFell from his hands, and through his veins there ranA strange oblivious trouble, darkening senseTill he knew nothing but a hideous fearWhich bade him fly, and faster, as behindHe heard his hounds give tongue, that through the wood950Were following, closing, caught him and tore him down.And many more thus perished in their prime;Lycaon and his fifty sons, whom ZeusIn their own house spied on, and unawaresWatching at hand, from his disguise arose,And overset the table where they satAround their impious feast and slew them all:Alcyonè and Ceyx, queen and king,Who for their arrogance were changed to birds:And Cadmus now a serpent, once a king:960And saddest Niobe, whom not the loveOf Leto aught availed, when once her boastWent out, though all her crime was too much prideOf heaven’s most precious gift, her children fair.Six daughters had she, and six stalwart sons;But Leto bade her two destroy the twelve.And somewhere now, among lone mountain rocksOn Sipylus, where couch the nymphs at nightWho dance all day by Achelous’ stream,The once proud mother lies, herself a rock,970And in cold breast broods o’er the goddess’ wrong.

Ar.O hide them yet! Are there not tales enough

Of what the wrathful gods have wrought on men?

Nay, ’twas this very fire thou now would’st take,

Which vain Salmoneus, son of Æolus,921

Made boast to have, and from his rattling car

Threw up at heaven to mock the lightning. Him

The thunderer stayed not to deride, but sent

One blinding fork, that in the vacant sky

Shook like a serpent’s tongue, which is but seen

In memory, and he was not, or for burial

Rode with the ashes of his royal city

Upon the whirlwind of the riven air.

And after him his brother Athamas,

King of Orchomenos, in frenzy fell

For Hera’s wrath, and raving killed his son;

And would have killed fair Ino, but that she fled

Into the sea, preferring there to woo934

The choking waters, rather than that the arm

Which had so oft embraced should do her wrong.

For which old crimes the gods yet unappeased

Demand a sacrifice, and the king’s son

Dreads the priest’s knife, and all the city mourns.

Or shall I say what shameful fury it was

With which Poseidon smote Pasiphaë,

But for neglect of a recorded vow:

Or how Actæon fared of Artemis

When he surprised her, most himself surprised:

And even while he looked his boasted bow

Fell from his hands, and through his veins there ran

A strange oblivious trouble, darkening sense

Till he knew nothing but a hideous fear

Which bade him fly, and faster, as behind

He heard his hounds give tongue, that through the wood950

Were following, closing, caught him and tore him down.

And many more thus perished in their prime;

Lycaon and his fifty sons, whom Zeus

In their own house spied on, and unawares

Watching at hand, from his disguise arose,

And overset the table where they sat

Around their impious feast and slew them all:

Alcyonè and Ceyx, queen and king,

Who for their arrogance were changed to birds:

And Cadmus now a serpent, once a king:960

And saddest Niobe, whom not the love

Of Leto aught availed, when once her boast

Went out, though all her crime was too much pride

Of heaven’s most precious gift, her children fair.

Six daughters had she, and six stalwart sons;

But Leto bade her two destroy the twelve.

And somewhere now, among lone mountain rocks

On Sipylus, where couch the nymphs at night

Who dance all day by Achelous’ stream,

The once proud mother lies, herself a rock,970

And in cold breast broods o’er the goddess’ wrong.

In.Now hush thy fear. See how thou tremblest still.Or if thou fear, fear passion; for the freshesOf tenderness and motherly love will drownThe eye of judgment: yet, since even excessOf the soft quality fits woman well,I praise thee; nor would ask thee less to aidWith counsel, than in love to share my choice.Tho’ weak thy hands to poise, thine eye may markThis balance, how the good of all outweighs980The good of one or two, though these be us.Let not reluctance shame the sacrificeWhich in another thou wert first to praise.

In.Now hush thy fear. See how thou tremblest still.

Or if thou fear, fear passion; for the freshes

Of tenderness and motherly love will drown

The eye of judgment: yet, since even excess

Of the soft quality fits woman well,

I praise thee; nor would ask thee less to aid

With counsel, than in love to share my choice.

Tho’ weak thy hands to poise, thine eye may mark

This balance, how the good of all outweighs980

The good of one or two, though these be us.

Let not reluctance shame the sacrifice

Which in another thou wert first to praise.

Ar.Alas for me, for thee and for our children,Who, being our being, having all our having,If they fare ill, our pride lies in the dust.

Ar.Alas for me, for thee and for our children,

Who, being our being, having all our having,

If they fare ill, our pride lies in the dust.

In.O deem not a man’s children are but thoseOut of his loins engendered—our spirit’s loveHath such prolific consequence, that VirtueCometh of ancestry more pure than blood,990And counts her seed as sand upon the shore.Happy is he whose body’s sons proclaimTheir father’s honour, but more blest to whomThe world is dutiful, whose children springOut of all nations, and whose pride the proudRise to regenerate when they call him sire.

In.O deem not a man’s children are but those

Out of his loins engendered—our spirit’s love

Hath such prolific consequence, that Virtue

Cometh of ancestry more pure than blood,990

And counts her seed as sand upon the shore.

Happy is he whose body’s sons proclaim

Their father’s honour, but more blest to whom

The world is dutiful, whose children spring

Out of all nations, and whose pride the proud

Rise to regenerate when they call him sire.

Ar.Thus, husband, ever have I bought and buyNobleness cheaply being linked with thee.Forgive my weakness; see, I now am bold;Tell me the worst, I’ll hear and wish ’twere more.

Ar.Thus, husband, ever have I bought and buy

Nobleness cheaply being linked with thee.

Forgive my weakness; see, I now am bold;

Tell me the worst, I’ll hear and wish ’twere more.

In.Retire—thy tears perchance may stir again.

Ar.Nay, I am full of wonder and would hear.

Pr.Bid me not tell if ye have fear to hear;But have no fear. Knowledge of future things1004Can nothing change man’s spirit: and though he seemTo aim his passion darkly, like a shaftShot toward some fearful sound in thickest night,He hath an owl’s eye, and must blink at day.The springs of memory, that feed alikeHis thought and action, draw from furthest timeTheir constant source, and hardly brook constraintOf actual circumstance, far less attendOn glassed futurity; nay, death itself,His fate unquestioned, his foretasted pain,The certainty foreknown of things unknown,Cannot discourage his habitual being1016In its appointed motions, to make waverHis eager hand, nor loosen the desireOf the most feeble melancholy heartEven from the unhopefullest of all her dreams.

Pr.Bid me not tell if ye have fear to hear;

But have no fear. Knowledge of future things1004

Can nothing change man’s spirit: and though he seem

To aim his passion darkly, like a shaft

Shot toward some fearful sound in thickest night,

He hath an owl’s eye, and must blink at day.

The springs of memory, that feed alike

His thought and action, draw from furthest time

Their constant source, and hardly brook constraint

Of actual circumstance, far less attend

On glassed futurity; nay, death itself,

His fate unquestioned, his foretasted pain,

The certainty foreknown of things unknown,

Cannot discourage his habitual being1016

In its appointed motions, to make waver

His eager hand, nor loosen the desire

Of the most feeble melancholy heart

Even from the unhopefullest of all her dreams.

In.Since then I long to know, now something sayOf what will come to mine when I am gone.

In.Since then I long to know, now something say

Of what will come to mine when I am gone.

Pr.And let the maid too hear, for ’tis of herI speak, to tell her whither she should turnThe day ye drive her forth from hearth and home.

Pr.And let the maid too hear, for ’tis of her

I speak, to tell her whither she should turn

The day ye drive her forth from hearth and home.

In.What sayst thou? drive her out? and we? from home?1026Banish the comfort of our eyes? Nay ratherBelieve that these obedient hands will tearThe heart out of my breast, ere it do this.

In.What sayst thou? drive her out? and we? from home?1026

Banish the comfort of our eyes? Nay rather

Believe that these obedient hands will tear

The heart out of my breast, ere it do this.

Pr. When her wild cries arouse the house at night,And, running to her bed, ye see her set1031Upright in trancèd sleep, her starting hairWith deathly sweat bedewed, in horror shaking,Her eyeballs fixed upon the unbodied dark,Through which a draping mist of luminous gloomDrifts from her couch away,—when, if asleep,She walks as if awake, and if awakeDreams, and as one who nothing hears or sees,Lives in a sick and frantic mood, whose causeShe understands not or is loth to tell—

Pr. When her wild cries arouse the house at night,

And, running to her bed, ye see her set1031

Upright in trancèd sleep, her starting hair

With deathly sweat bedewed, in horror shaking,

Her eyeballs fixed upon the unbodied dark,

Through which a draping mist of luminous gloom

Drifts from her couch away,—when, if asleep,

She walks as if awake, and if awake

Dreams, and as one who nothing hears or sees,

Lives in a sick and frantic mood, whose cause

She understands not or is loth to tell—

Ar.Ah, ah, my child, my child!—Dost thou feel aught?1041Speak to me—nay, ’tis nothing—hearken not.

Ar.Ah, ah, my child, my child!—Dost thou feel aught?1041

Speak to me—nay, ’tis nothing—hearken not.

Pr.Ye then distraught with sorrow, neither knowingWhether to save were best or lose, will seekApollo’s oracle.

Pr.Ye then distraught with sorrow, neither knowing

Whether to save were best or lose, will seek

Apollo’s oracle.

In.And what the answer?Will it discover nought to avert this sorrow?

In.And what the answer?

Will it discover nought to avert this sorrow?

Pr.Or else thy whole race perish root and branch.

In.Alas! alas!

Pr.Yet shall she live though lost; from human formChanged, that thou wilt not know thy daughter more.

Pr.Yet shall she live though lost; from human form

Changed, that thou wilt not know thy daughter more.

In.Woe, woe! my thought was praying for her death.1051

Pr.In Hera’s temple shall her prison beAt high Mycenæ, till from heaven be sentHermes, with song to soothe and sword to slayThe beast whose hundred eyes devour the door.In.Enough, enough is told, unless indeed,The beast once slain, thou canst restore our child.Pr.Nay, with her freedom will her wanderingsBegin. Come hither, child—nay, let her come:What words remain to speak will not offend her,And shall in memory quicken, when she looksTo learn where she should go;—for go she must,Stung by the venomous fly, whose angry flightShe still will hear about her, till she come1064To lay her sevenfold-carried burden downUpon the Æthiop shore where he shall reign.In.But say—say first, what form—Pr.In snow-white hideOf those that feel the goad and wear the yoke.In.Round-hoofed, or such as tread with cloven foot?Pr.Wide-horned, large-eyed, broad-fronted, and the feet1070Cloven which carry her to her far goal.In.Will that of all these evils be the term?Pr.Ay, but the journey first which she must learn.Hear now, my child; the day when thou art free,Leaving the lion-gate, descend and strikeThe Trêtan road to Nemea, skirting wideThe unhunted forest o’er the watered plainTo walled Cleônæ, whence the traversed streamTo Corinth guides: there enter not, but passTo narrow Isthmus, where Poseidon won1080A country from Apollo, and through the townOf Crommyon, till along the robber’s roadPacing, thy left eye meet the westering sunO’er Geraneia, and thou reach the hillOf Megara, where Car thy brother’s babeIn time shall rule; next past Eleusis climbStony Panactum and the pine-clad slopesOf Phyle; shun the left-hand way, and keepThe rocks; the second day thy feet shall treadThe plains of Græa, whence the roadway servesAulis and Mycalessus to the point1091Of vext Euripus: fear not then the stream,Nor scenting think to taste, but plunging inBreast its salt current to the further shore.For on this island mayst thou lose awhileThy maddening pest, and rest and pasture find,And from the heafs of bold Macistus seeThe country left and sought: but when thou feelThy torment urge, move down, recross the flood,And west by Harma’s fencèd gap arriveAt seven-gated Thebes: thy friendly goddessOngan Athenè has her seat without.1102Chor.Now if she may not stay thy toilsome destined steps,I pray that she may slay for thee the maddening fly.Pr.Keep not her sanctuary long, but seekBœotian Ascra, where the Muses’ fount,Famed Aganippè, wells: OcaleaPass, and Tilphusa’s northern steeps descendBy Alalcomenæ, the goddess’ town.Guard now the lake’s low shore, till thou have crossedHyrcana and Cephissus, the last streams1111Which feed its reedy pools, when thou shalt comeBetween two mountains that enclose the wayBy peakèd Abæ to Hyampolis.The right-hand path that thither parts the valeOpes to Cyrtonè and the Locrian lands;Toward Elateia thou, where o’er the marshA path with stones is laid; and thence beyondTo Thronium, Tarphè, and Thermopylæ,Where rocky Lamia views the Maliac gulf.Chor.If further she should go, will she not seeThat other Argos, the Dodonian land?1122Pr.Crossing the Phthian hills thou next shalt reachPharsalus, and Olympus’ peakèd snowsShall guide thee o’er the green Pelasgic plainsFor many a day, but to Argissa comeLet old Peneius thy slow pilot beThrough Tempè, till they turn upon his leftCrowning the wooded slopes with splendours bare.Thence issuing forth on the Pierian shoreNorthward of Ossa thou shalt touch the landsOf Macedon.Chor.Alas, we wish thee speed,1132But bid thee here farewell; for out of GreeceThou goest ’mongst the folk whose chattering speechIs like the voice of birds, nor home againWilt thou return.Pr.Thy way along the coastLies till it southward turn, when thou shalt seekWhere wide on Strymon’s plain the hindered floodSpreads like a lake; thy course to his opposeAnd face him to the mountain whence he comes:Which doubled, Thrace receives thee: barbarous names1141Of mountain, town and river, and a peopleStrange to thine eyes and ears, the Agathyrsi,Of pictured skins, who owe no marriage law,And o’er whose gay-spun garments sprent with goldTheir hanging hair is blue. Their torrent swimThat measures Europe in two parts, and goEastward along the sea, to mount the landsBeyond man’s dwelling, and the rising steepsThat face the sun untrodden and unnamed.—1150Know to earth’s verge remote thou then art come,The Scythian tract and wilderness forlorn,Through whose rude rocks and frosty silencesNo path shall guide thee then, nor my words now.There as thou toilest o’er the treacherous snows,A sound then thou shalt hear to stop thy breath,And prick thy trembling ears; a far-off cry,Whose throat seems the white mountain and its passionThe woe of earth. Flee not, nor turn not back:Let thine ears drink and guide thine eyes to seeThat sight whose terrors shall assuage thy terror,Whose pain shall kill thy pain. Stretched on the rock,Naked to scorching sun, to pinching frost,1163To wind and storm and beaks of wingèd fiendsFrom year to year he lies. Refrain to askHis name and crime—nay, haply when thou see himThou wilt remember—’tis thy tyrant’s foe,Man’s friend, who pays his chosen penalty.Draw near, my child, for he will know thy need,And point from land to land thy further path.

Pr.In Hera’s temple shall her prison beAt high Mycenæ, till from heaven be sentHermes, with song to soothe and sword to slayThe beast whose hundred eyes devour the door.

Pr.In Hera’s temple shall her prison be

At high Mycenæ, till from heaven be sent

Hermes, with song to soothe and sword to slay

The beast whose hundred eyes devour the door.

In.Enough, enough is told, unless indeed,The beast once slain, thou canst restore our child.

In.Enough, enough is told, unless indeed,

The beast once slain, thou canst restore our child.

Pr.Nay, with her freedom will her wanderingsBegin. Come hither, child—nay, let her come:What words remain to speak will not offend her,And shall in memory quicken, when she looksTo learn where she should go;—for go she must,Stung by the venomous fly, whose angry flightShe still will hear about her, till she come1064To lay her sevenfold-carried burden downUpon the Æthiop shore where he shall reign.

Pr.Nay, with her freedom will her wanderings

Begin. Come hither, child—nay, let her come:

What words remain to speak will not offend her,

And shall in memory quicken, when she looks

To learn where she should go;—for go she must,

Stung by the venomous fly, whose angry flight

She still will hear about her, till she come1064

To lay her sevenfold-carried burden down

Upon the Æthiop shore where he shall reign.

In.But say—say first, what form—

Pr.In snow-white hideOf those that feel the goad and wear the yoke.

Pr.In snow-white hide

Of those that feel the goad and wear the yoke.

In.Round-hoofed, or such as tread with cloven foot?

Pr.Wide-horned, large-eyed, broad-fronted, and the feet1070Cloven which carry her to her far goal.

Pr.Wide-horned, large-eyed, broad-fronted, and the feet1070

Cloven which carry her to her far goal.

In.Will that of all these evils be the term?

Pr.Ay, but the journey first which she must learn.Hear now, my child; the day when thou art free,Leaving the lion-gate, descend and strikeThe Trêtan road to Nemea, skirting wideThe unhunted forest o’er the watered plainTo walled Cleônæ, whence the traversed streamTo Corinth guides: there enter not, but passTo narrow Isthmus, where Poseidon won1080A country from Apollo, and through the townOf Crommyon, till along the robber’s roadPacing, thy left eye meet the westering sunO’er Geraneia, and thou reach the hillOf Megara, where Car thy brother’s babeIn time shall rule; next past Eleusis climbStony Panactum and the pine-clad slopesOf Phyle; shun the left-hand way, and keepThe rocks; the second day thy feet shall treadThe plains of Græa, whence the roadway servesAulis and Mycalessus to the point1091Of vext Euripus: fear not then the stream,Nor scenting think to taste, but plunging inBreast its salt current to the further shore.For on this island mayst thou lose awhileThy maddening pest, and rest and pasture find,And from the heafs of bold Macistus seeThe country left and sought: but when thou feelThy torment urge, move down, recross the flood,And west by Harma’s fencèd gap arriveAt seven-gated Thebes: thy friendly goddessOngan Athenè has her seat without.1102

Pr.Ay, but the journey first which she must learn.

Hear now, my child; the day when thou art free,

Leaving the lion-gate, descend and strike

The Trêtan road to Nemea, skirting wide

The unhunted forest o’er the watered plain

To walled Cleônæ, whence the traversed stream

To Corinth guides: there enter not, but pass

To narrow Isthmus, where Poseidon won1080

A country from Apollo, and through the town

Of Crommyon, till along the robber’s road

Pacing, thy left eye meet the westering sun

O’er Geraneia, and thou reach the hill

Of Megara, where Car thy brother’s babe

In time shall rule; next past Eleusis climb

Stony Panactum and the pine-clad slopes

Of Phyle; shun the left-hand way, and keep

The rocks; the second day thy feet shall tread

The plains of Græa, whence the roadway serves

Aulis and Mycalessus to the point1091

Of vext Euripus: fear not then the stream,

Nor scenting think to taste, but plunging in

Breast its salt current to the further shore.

For on this island mayst thou lose awhile

Thy maddening pest, and rest and pasture find,

And from the heafs of bold Macistus see

The country left and sought: but when thou feel

Thy torment urge, move down, recross the flood,

And west by Harma’s fencèd gap arrive

At seven-gated Thebes: thy friendly goddess

Ongan Athenè has her seat without.1102

Chor.Now if she may not stay thy toilsome destined steps,I pray that she may slay for thee the maddening fly.

Chor.Now if she may not stay thy toilsome destined steps,

I pray that she may slay for thee the maddening fly.

Pr.Keep not her sanctuary long, but seekBœotian Ascra, where the Muses’ fount,Famed Aganippè, wells: OcaleaPass, and Tilphusa’s northern steeps descendBy Alalcomenæ, the goddess’ town.Guard now the lake’s low shore, till thou have crossedHyrcana and Cephissus, the last streams1111Which feed its reedy pools, when thou shalt comeBetween two mountains that enclose the wayBy peakèd Abæ to Hyampolis.The right-hand path that thither parts the valeOpes to Cyrtonè and the Locrian lands;Toward Elateia thou, where o’er the marshA path with stones is laid; and thence beyondTo Thronium, Tarphè, and Thermopylæ,Where rocky Lamia views the Maliac gulf.

Pr.Keep not her sanctuary long, but seek

Bœotian Ascra, where the Muses’ fount,

Famed Aganippè, wells: Ocalea

Pass, and Tilphusa’s northern steeps descend

By Alalcomenæ, the goddess’ town.

Guard now the lake’s low shore, till thou have crossed

Hyrcana and Cephissus, the last streams1111

Which feed its reedy pools, when thou shalt come

Between two mountains that enclose the way

By peakèd Abæ to Hyampolis.

The right-hand path that thither parts the vale

Opes to Cyrtonè and the Locrian lands;

Toward Elateia thou, where o’er the marsh

A path with stones is laid; and thence beyond

To Thronium, Tarphè, and Thermopylæ,

Where rocky Lamia views the Maliac gulf.

Chor.If further she should go, will she not seeThat other Argos, the Dodonian land?1122

Chor.If further she should go, will she not see

That other Argos, the Dodonian land?1122

Pr.Crossing the Phthian hills thou next shalt reachPharsalus, and Olympus’ peakèd snowsShall guide thee o’er the green Pelasgic plainsFor many a day, but to Argissa comeLet old Peneius thy slow pilot beThrough Tempè, till they turn upon his leftCrowning the wooded slopes with splendours bare.Thence issuing forth on the Pierian shoreNorthward of Ossa thou shalt touch the landsOf Macedon.

Pr.Crossing the Phthian hills thou next shalt reach

Pharsalus, and Olympus’ peakèd snows

Shall guide thee o’er the green Pelasgic plains

For many a day, but to Argissa come

Let old Peneius thy slow pilot be

Through Tempè, till they turn upon his left

Crowning the wooded slopes with splendours bare.

Thence issuing forth on the Pierian shore

Northward of Ossa thou shalt touch the lands

Of Macedon.

Chor.Alas, we wish thee speed,1132But bid thee here farewell; for out of GreeceThou goest ’mongst the folk whose chattering speechIs like the voice of birds, nor home againWilt thou return.

Chor.Alas, we wish thee speed,1132

But bid thee here farewell; for out of Greece

Thou goest ’mongst the folk whose chattering speech

Is like the voice of birds, nor home again

Wilt thou return.

Pr.Thy way along the coastLies till it southward turn, when thou shalt seekWhere wide on Strymon’s plain the hindered floodSpreads like a lake; thy course to his opposeAnd face him to the mountain whence he comes:Which doubled, Thrace receives thee: barbarous names1141Of mountain, town and river, and a peopleStrange to thine eyes and ears, the Agathyrsi,Of pictured skins, who owe no marriage law,And o’er whose gay-spun garments sprent with goldTheir hanging hair is blue. Their torrent swimThat measures Europe in two parts, and goEastward along the sea, to mount the landsBeyond man’s dwelling, and the rising steepsThat face the sun untrodden and unnamed.—1150Know to earth’s verge remote thou then art come,The Scythian tract and wilderness forlorn,Through whose rude rocks and frosty silencesNo path shall guide thee then, nor my words now.There as thou toilest o’er the treacherous snows,A sound then thou shalt hear to stop thy breath,And prick thy trembling ears; a far-off cry,Whose throat seems the white mountain and its passionThe woe of earth. Flee not, nor turn not back:Let thine ears drink and guide thine eyes to seeThat sight whose terrors shall assuage thy terror,Whose pain shall kill thy pain. Stretched on the rock,Naked to scorching sun, to pinching frost,1163To wind and storm and beaks of wingèd fiendsFrom year to year he lies. Refrain to askHis name and crime—nay, haply when thou see himThou wilt remember—’tis thy tyrant’s foe,Man’s friend, who pays his chosen penalty.Draw near, my child, for he will know thy need,And point from land to land thy further path.

Pr.Thy way along the coast

Lies till it southward turn, when thou shalt seek

Where wide on Strymon’s plain the hindered flood

Spreads like a lake; thy course to his oppose

And face him to the mountain whence he comes:

Which doubled, Thrace receives thee: barbarous names1141

Of mountain, town and river, and a people

Strange to thine eyes and ears, the Agathyrsi,

Of pictured skins, who owe no marriage law,

And o’er whose gay-spun garments sprent with gold

Their hanging hair is blue. Their torrent swim

That measures Europe in two parts, and go

Eastward along the sea, to mount the lands

Beyond man’s dwelling, and the rising steeps

That face the sun untrodden and unnamed.—1150

Know to earth’s verge remote thou then art come,

The Scythian tract and wilderness forlorn,

Through whose rude rocks and frosty silences

No path shall guide thee then, nor my words now.

There as thou toilest o’er the treacherous snows,

A sound then thou shalt hear to stop thy breath,

And prick thy trembling ears; a far-off cry,

Whose throat seems the white mountain and its passion

The woe of earth. Flee not, nor turn not back:

Let thine ears drink and guide thine eyes to see

That sight whose terrors shall assuage thy terror,

Whose pain shall kill thy pain. Stretched on the rock,

Naked to scorching sun, to pinching frost,1163

To wind and storm and beaks of wingèd fiends

From year to year he lies. Refrain to ask

His name and crime—nay, haply when thou see him

Thou wilt remember—’tis thy tyrant’s foe,

Man’s friend, who pays his chosen penalty.

Draw near, my child, for he will know thy need,

And point from land to land thy further path.

Chorus

O miserable man, hear now the worst.O weak and tearful race,Born to unhappiness, see now thy cause1173Doomed and accurst!It surely were enough, the bad and goodTogether mingled, against chance and illTo strive, and prospering by turns,Now these, now those, now folly and now skill,Alike by means well understoodOr ’gainst all likelihood;Loveliness slaving to the unlovely willThat overrides the right and laughs at law.But always all in awe1183And imminent dread:Because there is no mischief thought or said,Imaginable or unguessed,But it may come to be; nor home of rest,Nor hour secure: but anywhere,At any moment; in the air,Or on the earth or sea,Or in the fairAnd tender body itself it lurks, creeps in,Or seizes suddenly,1193Torturing, burning, withering, devouring,Shaking, destroying; till tormented lifeSides with the slayer, not to be,And from the cruel strifeFalls to fate overpowering.Or if some patient heart,In toilsome steps of duty tread apart,1200Thinking to win her peace within herself,And thus awhile succeed:She must see others bleed,At others’ misery moan,And learn the common suffering is her own,From which it is no freedom to be freed:Nay, Nature, her best nurse,Is tender but to breed a finer sense,Which she may easier wound, with smart the worseAnd torture more intense.1210And no strength for thee but the thought of duty,Nor any solace but the love of beauty.O Right’s toil unrewarded!O Love’s prize unaccorded!I say this might suffice,O tearful and unstableAnd miserable man,Were’t but from day to dayThy miserable lot,This might suffice, I say,1220To term thee miserable.But thou of all thine ills too must take thought,Must grow familiar till no curse astound thee,With tears recall the past,With tears the times forecast;With tears, with tears thou hastThe scapeless net spread in thy sight around thee.How then support thy fate,O miserable man, if this befall,That he who loves thee and would aid thee, daringTo raise an arm for thy deliverance,1231Must for his courage suffer worse than all?In.Bravest deliverer, for thy prophecyHas torn the veil which hid thee from my eyes,If thyself art that spirit, of whom some thingsWere darkly spoken,—nor can I doubt thou art,Being that the heaven its fire withholds not from theeNor time his secrets,—tell me now thy name,That I may praise thee rightly; and my lateUnwitting words pardon thou, and these who stillIn blinded wonder kneel not to thy love.1241Pr.Speak not of love. See, I am moved with hate,And fiercest anger, which will sometimes spurThe heart to extremity, till it forgetThat there is any joy save furious war.Nay, were there now another deed to do,Which more could hurt our enemy than this,Which here I stand to venture, here would I leave theeConspiring at his altar, and fly offTo plunge the branding terror in his soul.But now the rising passion of my will1251Already jars his reaching sense, alreadyFrom heaven he bids his minion Hermes forthTo bring his only rebel to his feet.Therefore no more delay, the time is short.In.I take, I take. ’Tis but for thee to give.Pr.O heavenly fire, life’s life, the eye of day,Whose nimble waves upon the starry nightOf boundless ether love to play,Carrying commands to every gliding spriteTo feed all things with colour, from the rayOf thy bright-glancing, white1162And silver-spinning light:Unweaving its thin tissue for the bowOf Iris, separating countless huesOf various splendour for the grateful flowersTo crown the hasting hours,Changing their special garlands as they choose.O spirit of rage and might,Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,And bid earth’s stubborn metals flow like oil,Her porphyrous heart-veins boil;1272Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;Let now this flame, which did to life awakenBeyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,And thence by me was taken,And in this reed was borne,A smothered theft and gift to man below,Here with my breath revive,Restore thy lapsèd realm, and be the sireOf many an earthly fire.1281O flame, flame bright and live,Appear upon the altar as I blow.Chor.’Twas in the marish reed.See to his mouth he sets its hollow fluteAnd breathes therein with heed,As one who from a pipe with breathings muteWill music’s voice evoke.—See, the curl of a cloud.In.The smoke, the smoke!1290Semichorus.Thin clouds mounting higher.In.’Tis smoke, the smoke of fire.Semichorus.Thick they come and thicker,Quick arise and quicker,Higher still and higher.Their wreaths the wood enfold.—I see a spot of gold.They spring from a spot of gold,Red gold, deep amongThe leaves: a golden tongue.1300O behold, behold,Dancing tongues of gold,That leaping aloft flicker,Higher still and higher.In.’Tis fire, the flame of fire!Semichorus.The blue smoke overheadIs turned to angry red.The fire, the fire, it stirs.Hark, a crackling sound,As when all around1310Ripened pods of furzeSplit in the parching sunTheir dry caps one by one,And shed their seeds on the ground.—Ah! what clouds arise.Away! O come away.The wind-wafted smoke,Blowing all astray,

O miserable man, hear now the worst.O weak and tearful race,Born to unhappiness, see now thy cause1173Doomed and accurst!

O miserable man, hear now the worst.

O weak and tearful race,

Born to unhappiness, see now thy cause1173

Doomed and accurst!

It surely were enough, the bad and goodTogether mingled, against chance and illTo strive, and prospering by turns,Now these, now those, now folly and now skill,Alike by means well understoodOr ’gainst all likelihood;Loveliness slaving to the unlovely willThat overrides the right and laughs at law.

It surely were enough, the bad and good

Together mingled, against chance and ill

To strive, and prospering by turns,

Now these, now those, now folly and now skill,

Alike by means well understood

Or ’gainst all likelihood;

Loveliness slaving to the unlovely will

That overrides the right and laughs at law.

But always all in awe1183And imminent dread:Because there is no mischief thought or said,Imaginable or unguessed,But it may come to be; nor home of rest,Nor hour secure: but anywhere,At any moment; in the air,Or on the earth or sea,Or in the fairAnd tender body itself it lurks, creeps in,Or seizes suddenly,1193Torturing, burning, withering, devouring,Shaking, destroying; till tormented lifeSides with the slayer, not to be,And from the cruel strifeFalls to fate overpowering.

But always all in awe1183

And imminent dread:

Because there is no mischief thought or said,

Imaginable or unguessed,

But it may come to be; nor home of rest,

Nor hour secure: but anywhere,

At any moment; in the air,

Or on the earth or sea,

Or in the fair

And tender body itself it lurks, creeps in,

Or seizes suddenly,1193

Torturing, burning, withering, devouring,

Shaking, destroying; till tormented life

Sides with the slayer, not to be,

And from the cruel strife

Falls to fate overpowering.

Or if some patient heart,In toilsome steps of duty tread apart,1200Thinking to win her peace within herself,And thus awhile succeed:She must see others bleed,At others’ misery moan,And learn the common suffering is her own,From which it is no freedom to be freed:Nay, Nature, her best nurse,Is tender but to breed a finer sense,Which she may easier wound, with smart the worseAnd torture more intense.1210

Or if some patient heart,

In toilsome steps of duty tread apart,1200

Thinking to win her peace within herself,

And thus awhile succeed:

She must see others bleed,

At others’ misery moan,

And learn the common suffering is her own,

From which it is no freedom to be freed:

Nay, Nature, her best nurse,

Is tender but to breed a finer sense,

Which she may easier wound, with smart the worse

And torture more intense.1210

And no strength for thee but the thought of duty,Nor any solace but the love of beauty.O Right’s toil unrewarded!O Love’s prize unaccorded!

And no strength for thee but the thought of duty,

Nor any solace but the love of beauty.

O Right’s toil unrewarded!

O Love’s prize unaccorded!

I say this might suffice,O tearful and unstableAnd miserable man,Were’t but from day to dayThy miserable lot,This might suffice, I say,1220To term thee miserable.But thou of all thine ills too must take thought,Must grow familiar till no curse astound thee,With tears recall the past,With tears the times forecast;With tears, with tears thou hastThe scapeless net spread in thy sight around thee.

I say this might suffice,

O tearful and unstable

And miserable man,

Were’t but from day to day

Thy miserable lot,

This might suffice, I say,1220

To term thee miserable.

But thou of all thine ills too must take thought,

Must grow familiar till no curse astound thee,

With tears recall the past,

With tears the times forecast;

With tears, with tears thou hast

The scapeless net spread in thy sight around thee.

How then support thy fate,O miserable man, if this befall,That he who loves thee and would aid thee, daringTo raise an arm for thy deliverance,1231Must for his courage suffer worse than all?

How then support thy fate,

O miserable man, if this befall,

That he who loves thee and would aid thee, daring

To raise an arm for thy deliverance,1231

Must for his courage suffer worse than all?

In.Bravest deliverer, for thy prophecyHas torn the veil which hid thee from my eyes,If thyself art that spirit, of whom some thingsWere darkly spoken,—nor can I doubt thou art,Being that the heaven its fire withholds not from theeNor time his secrets,—tell me now thy name,That I may praise thee rightly; and my lateUnwitting words pardon thou, and these who stillIn blinded wonder kneel not to thy love.1241

In.Bravest deliverer, for thy prophecy

Has torn the veil which hid thee from my eyes,

If thyself art that spirit, of whom some things

Were darkly spoken,—nor can I doubt thou art,

Being that the heaven its fire withholds not from thee

Nor time his secrets,—tell me now thy name,

That I may praise thee rightly; and my late

Unwitting words pardon thou, and these who still

In blinded wonder kneel not to thy love.1241

Pr.Speak not of love. See, I am moved with hate,And fiercest anger, which will sometimes spurThe heart to extremity, till it forgetThat there is any joy save furious war.Nay, were there now another deed to do,Which more could hurt our enemy than this,Which here I stand to venture, here would I leave theeConspiring at his altar, and fly offTo plunge the branding terror in his soul.But now the rising passion of my will1251Already jars his reaching sense, alreadyFrom heaven he bids his minion Hermes forthTo bring his only rebel to his feet.Therefore no more delay, the time is short.

Pr.Speak not of love. See, I am moved with hate,

And fiercest anger, which will sometimes spur

The heart to extremity, till it forget

That there is any joy save furious war.

Nay, were there now another deed to do,

Which more could hurt our enemy than this,

Which here I stand to venture, here would I leave thee

Conspiring at his altar, and fly off

To plunge the branding terror in his soul.

But now the rising passion of my will1251

Already jars his reaching sense, already

From heaven he bids his minion Hermes forth

To bring his only rebel to his feet.

Therefore no more delay, the time is short.

In.I take, I take. ’Tis but for thee to give.

Pr.O heavenly fire, life’s life, the eye of day,Whose nimble waves upon the starry nightOf boundless ether love to play,Carrying commands to every gliding spriteTo feed all things with colour, from the rayOf thy bright-glancing, white1162And silver-spinning light:Unweaving its thin tissue for the bowOf Iris, separating countless huesOf various splendour for the grateful flowersTo crown the hasting hours,Changing their special garlands as they choose.

Pr.O heavenly fire, life’s life, the eye of day,

Whose nimble waves upon the starry night

Of boundless ether love to play,

Carrying commands to every gliding sprite

To feed all things with colour, from the ray

Of thy bright-glancing, white1162

And silver-spinning light:

Unweaving its thin tissue for the bow

Of Iris, separating countless hues

Of various splendour for the grateful flowers

To crown the hasting hours,

Changing their special garlands as they choose.

O spirit of rage and might,Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,And bid earth’s stubborn metals flow like oil,Her porphyrous heart-veins boil;1272Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;Let now this flame, which did to life awakenBeyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,And thence by me was taken,And in this reed was borne,A smothered theft and gift to man below,Here with my breath revive,Restore thy lapsèd realm, and be the sireOf many an earthly fire.1281

O spirit of rage and might,

Who canst unchain the links of winter stark,

And bid earth’s stubborn metals flow like oil,

Her porphyrous heart-veins boil;1272

Whose arrows pierce the cloudy shields of dark;

Let now this flame, which did to life awaken

Beyond the cold dew-gathering veils of morn,

And thence by me was taken,

And in this reed was borne,

A smothered theft and gift to man below,

Here with my breath revive,

Restore thy lapsèd realm, and be the sire

Of many an earthly fire.1281

O flame, flame bright and live,Appear upon the altar as I blow.

O flame, flame bright and live,

Appear upon the altar as I blow.

Chor.’Twas in the marish reed.See to his mouth he sets its hollow fluteAnd breathes therein with heed,As one who from a pipe with breathings muteWill music’s voice evoke.—See, the curl of a cloud.

Chor.’Twas in the marish reed.

See to his mouth he sets its hollow flute

And breathes therein with heed,

As one who from a pipe with breathings mute

Will music’s voice evoke.—

See, the curl of a cloud.

In.The smoke, the smoke!1290

Semichorus.Thin clouds mounting higher.

In.’Tis smoke, the smoke of fire.

Semichorus.Thick they come and thicker,Quick arise and quicker,Higher still and higher.Their wreaths the wood enfold.—I see a spot of gold.They spring from a spot of gold,Red gold, deep amongThe leaves: a golden tongue.1300O behold, behold,Dancing tongues of gold,That leaping aloft flicker,Higher still and higher.

Semichorus.Thick they come and thicker,

Quick arise and quicker,

Higher still and higher.

Their wreaths the wood enfold.

—I see a spot of gold.

They spring from a spot of gold,

Red gold, deep among

The leaves: a golden tongue.1300

O behold, behold,

Dancing tongues of gold,

That leaping aloft flicker,

Higher still and higher.

In.’Tis fire, the flame of fire!

Semichorus.The blue smoke overheadIs turned to angry red.The fire, the fire, it stirs.Hark, a crackling sound,As when all around1310Ripened pods of furzeSplit in the parching sunTheir dry caps one by one,And shed their seeds on the ground.—Ah! what clouds arise.Away! O come away.The wind-wafted smoke,Blowing all astray,

Semichorus.The blue smoke overhead

Is turned to angry red.

The fire, the fire, it stirs.

Hark, a crackling sound,

As when all around1310

Ripened pods of furze

Split in the parching sun

Their dry caps one by one,

And shed their seeds on the ground.

—Ah! what clouds arise.

Away! O come away.

The wind-wafted smoke,

Blowing all astray,

[Prometheus, afterwriting his nameon the altar, goesout unobserved.]

Blinds and pricks my eyes.Ah! I choke, I choke.—All the midst is rent:See the twigs are allBy the flaming spentWhite and gold, and fall.How they writhe, resist,Blacken, flake, and twist,Snap in gold and fall.—See the stars that mount,Momentary brightFlitting specks of light1330More than eye can count.Insects of the air,As in summer nightShow a fire in flyingFlickering here and there,Waving past and dying.—Look, a common coneOf the mountain pineSolid gold is grown;Till its scales outshine,1340Standing each aloneIn the spiral rowsOf their fair design,All the brightest showsOf the sun’s decline.—Hark, there came a hiss,Like a startled snakeSliding through the brake.Oh, and what is this?Smaller flames that flee1350Sidelong from the tree,Hark, they hiss, they hiss.—How the gay flames flicker,Spurting, dancing, leapingQuicker yet and quicker,Higher yet and higher,—Flaming, flaring, fuming,Cracking, crackling, creeping,Hissing and consuming:Mighty is the fire.1360In.Stay, stay, cease your rejoicings. Where is he,The prophet,—nay, what say I,—the god, the giver?Chor.He is not here—he is gone.In.Search, search around.Search all, search well.Chor.He is gone,—he is not here.In.The palace gate lies open: go, Argeia,Maybe he went within: go seek him there.

Blinds and pricks my eyes.

Ah! I choke, I choke.

—All the midst is rent:

See the twigs are all

By the flaming spent

White and gold, and fall.

How they writhe, resist,

Blacken, flake, and twist,

Snap in gold and fall.

—See the stars that mount,

Momentary bright

Flitting specks of light1330

More than eye can count.

Insects of the air,

As in summer night

Show a fire in flying

Flickering here and there,

Waving past and dying.

—Look, a common cone

Of the mountain pine

Solid gold is grown;

Till its scales outshine,1340

Standing each alone

In the spiral rows

Of their fair design,

All the brightest shows

Of the sun’s decline.

—Hark, there came a hiss,

Like a startled snake

Sliding through the brake.

Oh, and what is this?

Smaller flames that flee1350

Sidelong from the tree,

Hark, they hiss, they hiss.

—How the gay flames flicker,

Spurting, dancing, leaping

Quicker yet and quicker,

Higher yet and higher,

—Flaming, flaring, fuming,

Cracking, crackling, creeping,

Hissing and consuming:

Mighty is the fire.1360

In.Stay, stay, cease your rejoicings. Where is he,The prophet,—nay, what say I,—the god, the giver?

In.Stay, stay, cease your rejoicings. Where is he,

The prophet,—nay, what say I,—the god, the giver?

Chor.He is not here—he is gone.

In.Search, search around.Search all, search well.

In.Search, search around.

Search all, search well.

Chor.He is gone,—he is not here.

In.The palace gate lies open: go, Argeia,Maybe he went within: go seek him there.

In.The palace gate lies open: go, Argeia,

Maybe he went within: go seek him there.

[Exit Ar.

Look down the sea road, down the country road:Follow him if ye see him.Chor.He is not there.In.Strain, strain your eyes: look well: search everywhere.Look townwards—is he there?Part of Chorus returning.He is not there.—Other part returning.He is not there.Ar. re-entering.He is not there.1371Chor.O see!Chor.See where?Chor.See on the altar—see!Chor.What see ye on the altar?Chor.Here in frontWords newly writ.Chor.What words?Chor.A name—In.Ay true—There is the name. How like a child was I,That I must wait till these dumb letters gaveThe shape and soul to knowledge: when the godStood here so self-revealed to ears and eyesThat, ’tis a god I said, yet wavering still,Doubting what god,—and now, who else but he?I knew him, yet not well; I knew him not:Prometheus—ay, Prometheus. Know ye, my children,1382This name we see was writ by him we seek.’Tis his own name, his own heart-stirring name,Feared and revered among the immortal gods;Divine Prometheus: see how here the largeCadmeian characters run, scoring outThe hated title of his ancient foe,—To Zeus ’twas made,—and now ’tis to Prometheus—Writ with the charrèd reed—theft upon theft.He hath stolen from Zeus his altar, and with his fireHath lit our sacrifice unto himself.1392Ió Prometheus, friend and firegiver,For good or ill thy thefts and gifts are ours.We worshipped thee unknowing.Chor.But now where is he?In.No need to search—we shall not see him more.We look in vain. The high gods when they choosePut on and off the solid visible shapeWhich more deceives our hasty sense, than whenSeeing them not we judge they stand aloof.And he, he now is gone; his work is done:’Tis ours to see it be not done in vain.1402Chor.What is to do? speak, bid, command, we fly.In.Go some and fetch more wood to feed the fire;And some into the city to proclaimThat fire is ours: and send out messengersTo Corinth, Sicyon, Megara and AthensAnd to Mycenæ, telling we have fire:And bid that in the temples they prepareTheir altars, and send hither careful menTo learn of me what things the time requires.

Look down the sea road, down the country road:Follow him if ye see him.

Look down the sea road, down the country road:

Follow him if ye see him.

Chor.He is not there.

In.Strain, strain your eyes: look well: search everywhere.Look townwards—is he there?

In.Strain, strain your eyes: look well: search everywhere.

Look townwards—is he there?

Part of Chorus returning.He is not there.—

Other part returning.He is not there.

Ar. re-entering.He is not there.1371

Chor.O see!

Chor.See where?

Chor.See on the altar—see!

Chor.What see ye on the altar?

Chor.Here in frontWords newly writ.

Chor.Here in front

Words newly writ.

Chor.What words?

Chor.A name—

In.Ay true—There is the name. How like a child was I,That I must wait till these dumb letters gaveThe shape and soul to knowledge: when the godStood here so self-revealed to ears and eyesThat, ’tis a god I said, yet wavering still,Doubting what god,—and now, who else but he?I knew him, yet not well; I knew him not:Prometheus—ay, Prometheus. Know ye, my children,1382This name we see was writ by him we seek.’Tis his own name, his own heart-stirring name,Feared and revered among the immortal gods;Divine Prometheus: see how here the largeCadmeian characters run, scoring outThe hated title of his ancient foe,—To Zeus ’twas made,—and now ’tis to Prometheus—Writ with the charrèd reed—theft upon theft.He hath stolen from Zeus his altar, and with his fireHath lit our sacrifice unto himself.1392Ió Prometheus, friend and firegiver,For good or ill thy thefts and gifts are ours.We worshipped thee unknowing.

In.Ay true—

There is the name. How like a child was I,

That I must wait till these dumb letters gave

The shape and soul to knowledge: when the god

Stood here so self-revealed to ears and eyes

That, ’tis a god I said, yet wavering still,

Doubting what god,—and now, who else but he?

I knew him, yet not well; I knew him not:

Prometheus—ay, Prometheus. Know ye, my children,1382

This name we see was writ by him we seek.

’Tis his own name, his own heart-stirring name,

Feared and revered among the immortal gods;

Divine Prometheus: see how here the large

Cadmeian characters run, scoring out

The hated title of his ancient foe,—

To Zeus ’twas made,—and now ’tis to Prometheus—

Writ with the charrèd reed—theft upon theft.

He hath stolen from Zeus his altar, and with his fire

Hath lit our sacrifice unto himself.1392

Ió Prometheus, friend and firegiver,

For good or ill thy thefts and gifts are ours.

We worshipped thee unknowing.

Chor.But now where is he?

In.No need to search—we shall not see him more.We look in vain. The high gods when they choosePut on and off the solid visible shapeWhich more deceives our hasty sense, than whenSeeing them not we judge they stand aloof.And he, he now is gone; his work is done:’Tis ours to see it be not done in vain.1402

In.No need to search—we shall not see him more.

We look in vain. The high gods when they choose

Put on and off the solid visible shape

Which more deceives our hasty sense, than when

Seeing them not we judge they stand aloof.

And he, he now is gone; his work is done:

’Tis ours to see it be not done in vain.1402

Chor.What is to do? speak, bid, command, we fly.

In.Go some and fetch more wood to feed the fire;And some into the city to proclaimThat fire is ours: and send out messengersTo Corinth, Sicyon, Megara and AthensAnd to Mycenæ, telling we have fire:And bid that in the temples they prepareTheir altars, and send hither careful menTo learn of me what things the time requires.

In.Go some and fetch more wood to feed the fire;

And some into the city to proclaim

That fire is ours: and send out messengers

To Corinth, Sicyon, Megara and Athens

And to Mycenæ, telling we have fire:

And bid that in the temples they prepare

Their altars, and send hither careful men

To learn of me what things the time requires.

[Exit part of Chorus.

The rest remain to end our feast; and nowSeeing this altar is no more to Zeus,1413But shall for ever be with smouldering heatFed for the god who first set fire thereon,Change ye your hymns, which in the praise of ZeusYe came to sing, and change the prayer for fireWhich ye were wont to raise, to high thanksgiving,Praising aloud the giver and his gift.Part of Chorus.Now our happy feast hath ending,While the sun in heaven descendingSees us gathered round a lightBorn to cheer his vacant night.1423Praising him to-day who cameBearing far his heavenly flame:Came to crown our king’s desireWith his gift of golden fire.Semichorus.My heart, my heart is freed.Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow,A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed.It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go.I have no fear: I praise distinguishing duly:I praise the love that I love and I worship truly.Goodness I praise, not might,Nor more will I speak of wrong,1435But of lovingkindness and right;And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song.I praise him whom I have seen:As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth,Of gentle and lovely mien,With the step and the eyes of truth,As a god,—O were I a god, but thus to be man!As a god, I set him aboveThe rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love,The words of his mouth rare and precious,His eyes’ glance and the smile of his lips are love.He is the one1447Alone of all the gods,Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son,Who hates the wrongs they have done.He is the one I adore.For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,—And he promised us more and more,—For what may we not hope?

The rest remain to end our feast; and now

Seeing this altar is no more to Zeus,1413

But shall for ever be with smouldering heat

Fed for the god who first set fire thereon,

Change ye your hymns, which in the praise of Zeus

Ye came to sing, and change the prayer for fire

Which ye were wont to raise, to high thanksgiving,

Praising aloud the giver and his gift.

Part of Chorus.Now our happy feast hath ending,While the sun in heaven descendingSees us gathered round a lightBorn to cheer his vacant night.1423Praising him to-day who cameBearing far his heavenly flame:Came to crown our king’s desireWith his gift of golden fire.

Part of Chorus.Now our happy feast hath ending,

While the sun in heaven descending

Sees us gathered round a light

Born to cheer his vacant night.1423

Praising him to-day who came

Bearing far his heavenly flame:

Came to crown our king’s desire

With his gift of golden fire.

Semichorus.My heart, my heart is freed.Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow,A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed.It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go.I have no fear: I praise distinguishing duly:I praise the love that I love and I worship truly.Goodness I praise, not might,Nor more will I speak of wrong,1435But of lovingkindness and right;And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song.I praise him whom I have seen:As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth,Of gentle and lovely mien,With the step and the eyes of truth,As a god,—O were I a god, but thus to be man!As a god, I set him aboveThe rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love,The words of his mouth rare and precious,His eyes’ glance and the smile of his lips are love.He is the one1447Alone of all the gods,Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son,Who hates the wrongs they have done.He is the one I adore.For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,—And he promised us more and more,—For what may we not hope?

Semichorus.My heart, my heart is freed.

Now can I sing. I loose a shaft from my bow,

A song from my heart to heaven, and watch it speed.

It revels in the air, and straight to its goal doth go.

I have no fear: I praise distinguishing duly:

I praise the love that I love and I worship truly.

Goodness I praise, not might,

Nor more will I speak of wrong,1435

But of lovingkindness and right;

And the god of my love shall rejoice at the sound of my song.

I praise him whom I have seen:

As a man he is beautiful, blending prime and youth,

Of gentle and lovely mien,

With the step and the eyes of truth,

As a god,—O were I a god, but thus to be man!

As a god, I set him above

The rest of the gods; for his gifts are pledges of love,

The words of his mouth rare and precious,

His eyes’ glance and the smile of his lips are love.

He is the one1447

Alone of all the gods,

Of righteous Themis the lofty-spirited son,

Who hates the wrongs they have done.

He is the one I adore.

For if there be love in heaven with evil to cope,—

And he promised us more and more,—

For what may we not hope?

ODE

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