Thou’lt spit thy venom on the ground in vain.Chorus.Thou being young, dost jeer my ancient yearsWith youthful insolence; till the doom appears,I’ll patient wait; my hot-spurred wrath I’ll stay,And even-poised betwixt two tempers sway.Athena.My part remains; and I this crowning pebbleDrop to Orestes; for I never knewThe mother’s womb that bore me.f20I give honor,Save in my virgin nature, to the maleIn all things; all my father lives in me.n51Not blameless be the wife, who dared to slayHer husband, lord and ruler of her home.My voice is for Orestes; though the votesFall equal from the urn, my voice shall save him.Now shake the urn, to whom this duty falls,And tell the votes.Orestes.O Phœbus, how shall endThis doubtful issue?Chorus.O dark Night, my mother,Behold these things!Orestes.One moment blinds me quite,Or to a blaze of glory opes my eyes.Chorus.We sink to shame, or to more honor rise.Apollo.n52Judges, count well the pebbles as they fall,And with just jealousy divide them. OneBeing falsely counted works no simple harm.One little pebble saves a mighty house.Athena.Hear now the doom. This man from blood is free.The votes are equal; he escapes by me.Orestes.O Pallas, Saviour of my father’s house,Restorer of the exile’s hope, Athena,I praise thee! Now belike some Greek will say,The Argive man revisiteth the homesAnd fortunes of his father, by the aidOf Pallas, Loxias, and Jove the SaviourAll-perfecting, who pled the father’s cause,Fronting the wrathful Furies of the mother!I now depart: and to this land I leave,And to this people, through all future time,An oath behind me, that no lord of ArgosShall ever brandish the well-pointed spearAgainst this friendly land.f21When, from the tomb,I shall perceive who disregards this oathOf my sons’ sons, I will perplex that manWith sore perplexities inextricable;Ways of despair, and evil-birded pathsf22Shall be his portion, cursing his own choice.But if my vows be duly kept, with thoseThat in the closely-banded league shall aidAthena’s city, I am present ever.Then fare thee well, thou and thy people! NeverMay foe escape thy grasp! When thou dost struggle,Safety and victory attend thy spear! [Exit.Chorus.Curse on your cause,Ye gods that are younger!O’er the time-hallowed lawsRough ye ride as the stronger.Of the prey that was oursYe with rude hands bereave us,’Mid the dark-dreaded PowersShorn of honor ye leave us.Behold, on the groundFrom a heart of hostility,I sprinkle aroundBlack gouts of sterility!A plague I will bring,With a dry lichen spreading;No green blade shall springWhere the Fury is treading.To abortion I turnThe birth of the blooming,Where the plague-spot shall burnOf my wrath, life-consuming.I am mocked,f23but in vainThey rejoice at my moaning;They shall pay for my pain,With a fearful atoning,Who seized on my right,And, with wrong unexampled,On the daughters of NightHigh scornfully trampled.Athena.Be ruled by me: your heavy-bosomed groansRefrain. Not vanquished thou, but the fair voteLeapt equal from the urn, with no disgraceTo thee. From Jove himself clear witness came;The oracular god that urged the deed, the sameStood here to vouch it, that Orestes might notReap harm from his obedience. Soothe ye, therefore;Cast not your bolted vengeance on this land,Your gouts of wrath divine distil not, stingsOf pointed venom, with keen corrosive powerEating life’s seeds, all barrenness and blight.A home within this land I pledge you, hereA shrine, a refuge, and a hearth secure,Where ye on shining thrones shall sit, my cityYielding devoutest homage to your power.Chorus.Curse on your cause,Ye gods that are younger!O’er the time-hallowed lawsRough ye ride, as the stronger.Of the prey that was oursYe with rude hands bereave us,’Mid the dark-dreaded PowersShorn of honor ye leave us.Behold, on the groundFrom a heart of hostility,I sprinkle aroundBlack gouts of sterility!A plague I will bringWith a dry lichen spreading;No green blade shall springWhere the Fury is treading.To abortion I turnThe birth of the blooming,Where the plague-spot shall burnOf my wrath, life-consuming.I am mocked, but in vainThey rejoice at my moaning;They shall pay for my pain,With a fearful atoning,Who seized on my right,And, with wrong unexampled,On the daughters of NightHigh scornfully trampled.Athena.Dishonoured are ye not: Spit not your rancourOn this fair land remediless. Rests my trustOn Jove, the mighty, I of all the godsSharing alone the strong keys that unlockHis thunder-halls:n53but this I name not here.Yield thou: cast not the seed of reckless speechTo crop the land with woe. Soothing the wavesOf bitter anger darkling in thy breast,Dwell in this land, thy dreadful deitySistered with me. When thronging worshippersHenceforth shall cull choice firstlings for thine altars,Praying thy grace to bless the wedded rite,And the child-bearing womb—then honoured so,How wise my present counsel thou shalt know.Chorus.Voice 1.I to dwell ’neath the EarthAll clipt of my glory,In the dark-chambered Earth,I, the ancient, the hoary!Voice 2.I breathe on thee curses,I cut through thy marrow,For the insult that piercesMy heart like an arrow.Voice 3.Hear my cry, mother Night,’Gainst the gods that deceived me!With their harsh-handed mightOf my right they bereaved me.Athena.Thy anger I forgive; for thou’rt the elder.But though thy years bring wisdom, to me alsoJove gave a heart, not undiscerning. You—Mark well my words—if now some foreign landYe choose, will rue your choice, and long for Athens.The years to be shall float more richly fraughtWith honor to my citizens; thou shaft holdAn honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home,n54Where men and women in marshalled pomp shall pay theeSuch homage, as no land on Earth may render.But cast not ye on this my chosen landWhetstones of fury, teaching knives to drinkThe blood of tender bowels, madding the heartWith wineless drunkenness, that men shall swellLike game cocks for the battle; save my cityFrom brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.n55Without the walls, and far from kindred hearthsRage war, where honor calls, and glory crowns.A bird of blood within the house I love not.Use thine election; wisely use it; giveA blessing, and a blessing take; with meMay this land dear to the gods be dear to thee!Chorus.Voice 1.I to dwell ’neath the EarthAll clipt of my glory,In the dark-chambered EarthI, the ancient, the hoary!Voice 2.I breathe on thee curses,I cut through thy marrow,For the insult that piercesMy heart like an arrow.Voice 3.Hear my cry, mother Night,’Gainst the gods that deceived me!With their harsh-handed mightOf my right they bereaved me.Athena.To advise thee well I faint not. Never moreShalt thou, a hoary-dated power, complainThat I, a younger, or my citizens,From our inhospitable gates expelled theeOf thy due honors shortened. If respectFor sacred Peitho’sf24godhead, for the honeyAnd charming of the tongue may move thee, stay;But, if ye will go, show of justice noneRemains, with rancour, wrath, and scathe to smiteThis land and people. Stands your honoured lotWith me for ever, so ye scorn it not.Chorus.Sovran Athena, what sure home receives me?Athena.A home from sorrow free. Receive it freely.Chorus.And when received, what honors wait me then?Athena.No house shall prosper where thy blessing fails.Chorus.This by thy grace is sure?Athena.I will upbuildHis house who honours thee.Chorus.This pledged for ever?Athena.I cannot promise what I not perform.Chorus.Thy words have soothed me, and my wrath relents.Athena.Here harboured thou wilt number many friends.Chorus.Say, then, how shall my hymn uprise to bless thee?Athena.Hymn things that strike fair victory’s mark: from Earth,From the sea’s briny dew, and from the skyBring blessings; the benignly-breathing galesOn summer wings be wafted to this land;Let the Earth swell with the exuberant flowOf fruits and flowers, that want may be unknown.Bless human seed with increase, but cast outThe impious man; even as a gardener, IWould tend the flowers, the briars and the thornsHeaped for the burning. This thy province. IIn feats of Mars conspicuous will not failTo plant this city ’fore all eyes triumphant.STROPHE I.Chorus.Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compellingHath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwellingWith thine, and with Jove’s, the all-ruling, thy sire.The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,The fortress of gods,n56the fair grace of Immortals.I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desireTo the Sun, when he shines in his full-flooded splendour,Her tribute to thee may the swelling Earth render,And bounty with bounty conspire!Athena.Athens, no trifling gain I’ve won thee.With rich blessing thou shalt harbour,Through my grace, these much-prevailingSternest-hearted Powers. For theyRule, o’er human fates appointed,With far-reaching sway.Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten!n57With strokes he knows not whence descending,Not for his own, for guilt inherited,n58They with silent-footed vengeanceShall o’ertake him: in the dust,Heaven with piercing cries imploring,Crushed the sinner lies.ANTISTROPHE I.Chorus.Far from thy dwelling, and far from thy border,By the grace of my godhead benignant I orderThe blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.Far from thy border, and far from thy dwellingBe the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,And, when Hermes is near thee,n59thy hand still be readyThe Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!Athena.Hear her words, my city’s warders,Fraught with blessing; she prevailethWith Olympians and Infernals,Dread Erinnys much revered.Mortal fates she guideth plainlyTo what goal she pleaseth, sendingSongs to some, to others daysWith tearful sorrows dulled.STROPHE II.Chorus.Far from your dwellingBe death’s early knelling,When falls in his green strength the strongYour virgins, the fairest,To brave youths the rarestBe mated, glad life to prolong!Ye Fates, high-presiding,n60The right well dividing,Dread powers darkly mothered with me;Our firm favour sharing,From judgment unsparingThe homes of the just man be free!But the guilty shall fear them,When in terror shall near themThe Fates, sternly sistered with me.Athena.Work your perfect will, dread maidens,O’er my land benignly watching!I rejoice. Blest be the eyesOf Peitho, that with strong persuasionArmed my tongue, to soothe the fierceRefusal of these awful maids.Jove, that rules the forum, noblyIn the high debate hath conquered.n61In the strife of blessing now,You with me shall vie for ever.ANTISTROPHE II.Chorus.Far from thy borderThe lawless disorder,That sateless of evil shall reign!Far from thy dwellingThe dear blood welling,That taints thy own hearth with the stain,When slaughter from slaughterShall flow, like the water,And rancour from rancour shall grow!But joy with joy blendingLive, each to all lending,And hating one-hearted the foe!When bliss hath departed,From will single-hearted,A fountain of healing shall flow.Athena.Wisely now the tongue of kindnessThou hast found, the way of love;And these terror-speaking facesNow look wealth to me and mine.Her so willing, ye more willingNow receive; this land and city,On ancient right securely throned,Shall shine for evermore.STROPHE III.Chorus.Hail, and all hail! mighty people be greeted!On the sons of Athena shine sunshine the clearest!Blest people, near Jove the Olympian seated,And dear to the virgin his daughter the dearest.Timely wise ’neath the wings of the daughter ye gather;And mildly looks down on her children the father.Athena.Hail, all hail to you! but chieflyMe behoves it now to lead youTo your fore-appointed homes.Go, with holy train attendant,With sacrifice, and torch resplendent,Underneath the ground.Go, and with your potent godheadQuell the ill that threats the city,Spur the good to victory’s goal.Lead the way ye sons of Cranaus,f25To these strangers, strange no more;Their kindly thoughts to you remember,Grateful evermore.ANTISTROPHE III.Chorus.Hail, yet again, with this last salutation,Ye sons of Athena, ye citizens all!On gods, and on mortals, in high congregationAssembled, my blessing not vainly shall fall.O city of Pallas, while thou shalt revere me,Thy walls hold the pledge that no harm shall come near thee.Athena.Well hymned. My heart chimes with you, and I sendThe beamy-twinkling torches to conduct youTo your dark-vaulted chambers ’neath the ground.They who attend my shrine, with pious homage,Shall be your convoy. The fair eye of the land,The marshalled host of Theseus’ sons shall marchIn festive train with you, both man and woman,Matron and maid, green youth and hoary age.Honor the awful maids, clad with the graceOf purple-tinctured robes; and let the flameMarch ’fore their path bright-rayed; and, evermore,With populous wealth smile every Attic roodBlessed by this gracious-minded sisterhood.n62[Convoy,conducting theEumenidesin festal pomp to their subterranean temple, with torches in their hands:STROPHE I.Go with honor crowned and glory,Of hoary Night the daughters hoary,To your destined hall.Where our sacred train is wending,Stand, ye pious throngs attending,Hushed in silence all.ANTISTROPHE I.Go to hallowed habitations,’Neath Ogygianf26Earth’s foundations:In that darksome hallSacrifice and supplicationShall not fail. In adorationSilent worship all.STROPHE II.Here, in caverned halls, abiding,High on awful thrones presiding,Gracious ye shall reign.March in torches’ glare rejoicing!Sing, ye throngs, their praises, voicingLoud the exultant strain!ANTISTROPHE II.Blazing torch, and pure libationFrom age to age this pious nationShall not use in vain.Thus hath willed it Jove all-seeing,Thus the Fate. To their decreeingShout the responsive strain![The End]PROMETHEUS BOUNDA LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLEΔῆσε δ᾽ ἀλυκτοπέδῃσι Προμηθέα ποικιλόβουληνΔεσμοῖς ἀργαλέοισι.Hesiod.Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.Shelley.PERSONSMightandForce,Ministers of Jove.HephaesthusorVulcan,the God of Fire.Prometheus,Son of Iapetus, a Titan.Chorus of Oceanides.Oceanus.Io,Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.Hermes,Messenger of the Gods.Scene—A Rocky Desert in European Scythia.INTRODUCTORY REMARKSInthe mythology of the ancient Greeks, as of many other nations, we find the earlier periods characterised by a series of terrible mundane struggles—wars in Heaven and wars on Earth—which serve as an introduction to, and a preparation for the more regularly ordered and more permanent dynasty that ultimately sways the sceptre of Olympus. In the theological poem of Hesiod, as in the prose narration of Apollodorus,HeavenandEarthare represented as the rulers of the first celestial dynasty; their offspring, called Titans, in the person of one of their number,Kronos, by a violent act of dethronement, forms a second dynasty; while he, in his turn, after a no less violent struggle, gives place to a third sceptre—viz., that ofJove—who, in the faith of the orthodox Athenian, was the supreme ruler of the world of gods, and men, now, after many throes and struggles, arrived, at its normal state, not henceforward to be disturbed. The general character which this succession of dynasties exhibits, is that of order arising out of confusion, peace out of war, and wisely-reasoned plan triumphing over brute force—“Scimus ut impiosTitanas immanemque turmamFulmine sustulerit caduco,Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperatVentosum, et urbes, regnaque tristia,Divosque, mortalesque turbas,Imperio regit unus aequo.”This representation of the philosophic lyrist of a late age is in perfect harmony with the epithets μητιόεις and μητιέτα given to Jove by the earliest Greek poets, and with the allegory by which Μῆτις, orCounselpersonified, is represented as one of the wives of the Supreme Ruler. It is worthy of notice also, in the same view, that the legends about the Titans, Giants, and other Earth-born monsters, warring with Jove, are often attached to districts—such as Campania and Cilicia—in which the signs of early volcanic action are, even at the present day, unmistakeable; plainly indicating that such mythic narrations were only exhibitions, in the historical form (according to the early style), of great elemental convulsions and physical changes taking place on the face of the Earth.Among the persons most prominent in that primeval age of gigantic “world-strife” (if we may be allowed to Anglicize a German compound) stands Prometheus; not, however, like his Titan brethren in character, though identical with them in descent, and in the position which he finally assumed towards the god in whose hands the supreme government of the world eventually remained. Prometheus, as his name denotes, strives against the high authority of Jove, not by that “reasonless force which falls by its own weight,” but by intelligence and cunning. Viewed in this character, he was the natural ally, not of the serpent-footed Giants and the flame-breathing Typhon, but of the All-wise Olympian; and such, indeed, Æschylus, in the present piece (v. 219,p. 189below), represents as having been his original position: but, as “before honor is humility, and before pride comes a fall,” so the son of Iapetus, like Tantalus, and so many others in the profoundly moral mythology of the Hellenes, found himself exalted into the fellowship of the blissful gods, only that he might be precipitated into a more terrible depth of misery. He was wise; nay, benevolent (ἄκακητα, Hesiod. Theog., 614); his delight was to exercise his high intellect in the elevation of the infant human race, sunk in a state of almost brutish stupidity; he stood forward as an incarnation of that practical intellect (so triumphant in these latter days), which subjects the rude elements of nature, for human use and convenience, to mechanical calculation and control; but, with all this, he was proud, he was haughty; his Titanic strength and his curious intellect he used, to shake himself free from all dependence on the highest power, which the constitution of things had ordered should stand as the strong key-stone of the whole. Not to ruin mankind, but to save them, he sinned the sin of Lucifer; he would make himself God; and, as in the eye of a court-martial, the subaltern who usurps the functions of the commander-in-chief stands not acquitted, because he alleges that he acted with a benevolent intent, or for the public good, so, in the faith of an orthodox Athenian, Prometheus was not the less worthy of his airy chains because he defied the will of Jove in the championship of mankind. Neither man nor god may question or impugn the divine decree of supreme Jove, on grounds of expediency or propriety. With the will of Zeus, as with the laws of nature, there is no arguing. In this relationship the first, second, and third point of duty is submission. Such is the doctrine of modern Christian theology; such, also, was the doctrine of the old Hellenic theologer,Hesiod—Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.Theog. 613.Those who are acquainted with the philological learning on this subject, which I have discussed elsewhere,f1or even with the common ideas on the legend of Prometheus brought into circulation by the productions of modern poetry, are aware that the view just given of the moral significance of this weighty old myth, is not the current one, and that we are rather accustomed to look upon Prometheus as a sort of proto-martyr of liberty, bearing up with the strength of a god against the punishment unjustly inflicted on him by the celestial usurper and tyrant, Jove. But Hesiod, we have just seen, looks on the matter with very different eyes; and the unquestioned supremacy of Jove that stands out everywhere, from the otherwise not always consistent theological system of the Iliad, leads plainly to the conclusion that Homer also, had he had occasion to introduce this legend, would have handled it in a spirit altogether different from our Shelleys and Byrons, and other earth-shaking and heaven-scaling poets of the modern revolutionary school. As little is there any ground (see thelife of Æschylus) for the supposition that our tragedian has taken up different theological ground in reference to this myth, from that which belonged to the two great expositors of the popular creed; not to mention the staring absurdity of the idea, that a grave tragic poet in a serious composition, at a public religious festival, should have dared, or daring, should have been allowed, to hold up their supreme deity to a nation of freemen in the character of a cruel and unjust tyrant. Thrown back, therefore, on the original Hesiodic conception of the myth, we are led to observe that the imperfect and unsatisfactory ideas so current on this subject in modern times, have taken their rise from the practice (so natural under the circumstances) of looking on the extant piece as a complete whole, whereas nothing is more certain than that it is only a fragment; the second part, in fact, of a dramatic trilogy similar in conception and execution to that, of which we have endeavoured to present a reflection in the preceding pages. Potter, in his translation published a hundred years ago, prefaced his version of the present piece with the well-known fact, that Æschylus wrote three plays on this subject—the Fire-bringing Prometheus, the Prometheus Bound, and the Prometheus Unbound—this intimationwas not sufficient to prevent his readers, with the usual hastiness of human logic, from judging of what they saw, as if it were an organic whole, containing within itself every element necessary for forming a true conception of its character. The consequence was, that the hero of the piece, who, of course, tells his own story in the most favourable way for himself, was considered as having passed a final judgment on the case; as the friend and representative of man, he naturally seemed entitled to the gratitude of men; while Jove, being now only an idol in the world (perhaps a devil), and having no advocate in the heart of the modern reader, was made to stand—on the representation of the same Prometheus—as the type of heartless tyranny, and the impersonation of absolute power combined with absolute selfishness. This is Shelley’s view; but that such was not the view of Æschylus we may be assured, both from the consideration already mentioned, and from the poet’s method of reconciling apparently incompatible claims of opposite celestial powers, so curiously exhibited in the Eumenides. In the trilogy of the preceding pages, Orestes stands in a situation, so far as the development of the plot is concerned, precisely analogous to that of Prometheus in the present piece. His conduct, as submitted to the moral judgment of the spectator, produces the same conflict of contrary emotions of which his own bosom is the victim. With the one-half of our heart we approve of his avenging his father’s murder; with the other half, we plead that a son shall, on no ground of offence, allow his indignation to proceed so far as to imbrue his hands in the blood of her whose milk he had sucked. This contrariety of emotions excited in the second piece of the trilogy, produces the tragic knot, which it is the business of the poet to unloose, by the worthy interposition of a god. “Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus.”—Exactly so in the second piece of the Promethean trilogy, our moral judgment praises the benevolence of the god, who, to elevate our human race from brutish degradation, dared to defy omnipotent power, and to deceive the wisdom of the omniscient; while, at the same time, we cannot but condemn the spirit of unreined independence that would shake itself free from the great centre of moral cohesion, and the reckless boldness that casts reproach in, the face of the great Ruler of the universe. In this state of suspense, represented by the doubtful attitude of the Chorusf2through the whole play, the present fragment of the great Æschylean Promethiad leaves the well-instructed modern reader; and it admitsnot, in my view, of a doubt that, in the concluding piece, it remained for the poet to effect a reconciliation between the contending interests and clashing emotions, somewhat after the fashion of which we possess a specimen in the Eumenides. By what agency of individuals or of arguments this was done, it is hopeless now to inquire; the fragmentary notices that remain are too meagre to justify a scientific restoration of the lost drama; they who wish to see what erudite imagination can do in this direction may consult Welcker and Schoemann—Welcker, in the shape of prose dissertation in hisTrilogie, p. 28; andSchoemann, in the shape of a poetical restoration of the lost poem, in the Appendix to his very valuable edition of this play. About one thing only can we be certain, that, in the ultimate settlement of disputed claims, neither will Prometheus, on the one hand, be degraded from the high position on which the poet has planted him as a sort of umpire between gods and men, nor will Jove yield one whit of his supreme right to exact the bitterest penalties from man or god who presumes to act independently of, and even in opposition to his will. The tragic poet will duly exercise his grand function of keeping the powers of the celestial world—as he does the contending emotions of the human mind—in due equipoise and subordination.f3The plot of the Prometheus Unbound is the simplest possible, being not so much the dramatic progression of a course of events, as a single dramatic situation presented through the whole piece under different aspects. The theft of fire from Heaven, or (as the notice of Cicero seems to indicate) from the Lemnian volcano of Mosychlos,f4having been perpetrated in the previous piece,MightandForce, two allegorical personages, the ministers of Jove’s vengeance, are now introduced, along withHephaestus, the forger of celestial chains, nailing the benevolent offender to a cold craggy rock in the wastes of European Scythia. In this condition when, after a long silence, he at length gives vent to his complaint, certain kindred divine persons—first, the Oceanides, or daughters of Ocean, and then their hoary sire himself, are brought on the scene, with words of solace and friendly exhortation to the sufferer.f5When all the arguments that these parties have to advance are exhausted in vain, another mythic personage, of a different character, and for adifferent purpose, appears. This is Io, the daughter of Inachus, the primeval king of Argos, who, having enjoyed the unblissful distinction of stirring the heart of Jove with love, is, by the jealous wrath of Hera, transmuted into the likeness of a cowf6and sent wandering to the ends of the Earth, fretted into restless distraction by the stings of a malignant insect. This character serves a threefold purpose. First, as a sufferer, tracing the origin of all her misery from Jove, she both sympathizes strongly with Prometheus, and exhibits the character of Jove in another unfavourable aspect; secondly, with her wild maniac cries and reinless fits of distraction, she presents a fine contrast to the calm self-possession with which the stout-hearted Titan endures the penalty of his pride; and, in the third place, as the progenitrix of the Argive Hercules, the destined instrument of the delivery of Prometheus, she connects the middle with the concluding piece of the trilogy. Last of all, when this strange apparition has vanished, appears on the scene the great Olympian negotiator, Hermes; who, with the eloquence peculiar to himself, and the threatened terrors of his supreme master, endeavours to break the pride and to bend the will of the lofty-minded offender. In vain. The threatened terrors of the Thunderer now suddenly start into reality; and, amid the roar of contending elements, the pealing Heaven and the quaking Earth, the Jove-defying son of Iapetus descends into Hell.The superhuman grandeur and high tragic sublimity which belongs to the very conception of this subject, has suffered nothing in respect of treatment from the genius of the bard who dared to handle it. The Prometheus Bound, though inferior in point of lyric richness and variety to the Agamemnon, and though somewhat overloaded with narrative in one place, is nevertheless felt throughout to be one of the most powerful productions of one of the most powerful minds that the history of literature knows. No work of a similar lofty character certainly has ever been so extensively popular. The Prometheus Unbound of Shelley, and Lord Byron’s Manfred, bear ample witness, of which we may well be proud, to the relationship which exists between the severe Melpomene of ancient Greece, and the lofty British Muse.PROMETHEUS BOUNDEnterMightandForce,leading inPrometheus;Hephaestus,with chains.Might.At length the utmost bound of Earth we’ve reached,This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste.n1Hephaestus now Jove’s high behests demandThy care; to these steep cliffy rocks bind downWith close-linked chains of during adamantThis daring wretch.n2For he the bright-rayed fire,Mother of arts, flower of thy potency,Filched from the gods, and gave to mortals. Here,Just guerdon of his sin shall find him; hereLet his pride learn to bow to Jove supreme,And love men well, but love them not too much.Hephaesthus.Ye twain, rudeMightandForce, have done your workTo the perfect end; but I—my heart shrinks backFrom the harsh task to nail a kindred godn3To this storm-battered crag. Yet dare I must.Where Jove commands, whoso neglects rebels,And pays the traitor’s fine. High-counselled sonOf right-decreeing Themis,n4I force myselfNo less than thee, when to this friendless rockWith iron bonds I chain thee, where nor shapeNor voice of wandering mortal shall relieveThy lonely watch; but the fierce-burning sunShall parch and bleach thy fresh complexion. Thou,When motley-mantled Nightf7hath hid the day,Shalt greet the darkness, with how short a joy!For the morn’s sun the nightly dew shall scatter,And thou be pierced again with the same pricksOf endless woe—and saviour shall be none.n5Such fruits thy forward love to men hath wrought thee.Thyself a god, the wrath of gods to theeSeemed little, and to men thou didst dispenseForbidden gifts. For this thou shalt keep watchOn this delightless rock, fixed and erect,With lid unsleeping, and with knee unbent.Alas! what groans and wails shalt thou pour forth,Fruitless. Jove is not weak that he should bend;n6For young authority must ever beHarsh and severe.Might.Enough of words and tears.This god, whom all the gods detest, wilt thouNot hate, thou, whom his impious larcenyDid chiefly injure?Hephaesthus.But, my friend, my kinsman—Might.True, that respect; but the dread father’s wordRespect much more. Jove’s word respect and fear.Hephaesthus.Harsh is thy nature, and thy heart is fullOf pitiless daring.Might.Tears were wasted here,And labour lost is all concern for him.Hephaesthus.O thrice-cursed trade, that e’er my hand should use it!Might.Curse not thy craft; the cunning of thy handMakes not his woes; he made them for himself.Hephaesthus.Would that some other hand had drawn the lotTo do this deed!Might.All things may be, but thisTo dictate to the gods.n7There’s one that’s free,One only; Jove.Hephaesthus.I know it, and am dumb.Might.Then gird thee to the work, chain down the culprit,Lest Jove thy laggard zeal behold, and blame.Hephaesthus.The irons here are ready.Might.Take them, and strikeStout blows with the hammer; nail him to the rock.Hephaesthus.The work speeds well, and lingers not.Might.Strike! strike!With ring, and clamp, and wedge make sure the work.He hath a subtle wit will find itselfA way where way is none.Hephaesthus.This arm is fast.Might.Then clasp this other. Let the sophist know,Against great Jove how dull a thing is wit.Hephaesthus.None but the victim can reprove my zeal.Might.Now take this adamantine bolt, and forceIts point resistless through his rebel breast.Hephaesthus.Alas! alas! Prometheus, but I pity thee!Might.Dost lag again, and for Jove’s enemies weepFond tears? Beware thou have no cause to weepTears for thyself.Hephaesthus.Thou see’st no sightly sightFor eyes to look on.Might.I behold a sowerReaping what thing he sowed. But take these thongs,And bind his sides withal.Hephaesthus.I must! I must!Nor needs thy urging.Might.Nay, but I will urge,Command, and bellow in thine ear! Proceed,Lower—yet lower—and with these iron ringsEnclasp his legs.Hephaesthus.’Tis done, and quickly done.Might.Now pierce his feet through with these nails. Strike hard!There’s one will sternly prove thy work, and thee.Hephaesthus.Harsh is thy tongue, and, like thy nature, hard.Might.Art thou a weakling, do not therefore blameThe firm harsh-fronted will that suits my office.Hephaesthus.Let us away. He’s fettered limb and thew.Might.There lie, and feed thy pride on this bare rock,Filching gods’ gifts for mortal men. What manShall free thee from these woes? Thou hast been calledIn vain the Provident:n8had thy soul possessedThe virtue of thy name, thou hadst foreseenThese cunning toils, and hadst unwound thee from them.[Exeunt all, exceptPrometheus,who is left chained.Prometheus.n9O divine ether, and swift-winged winds,And river-fountains, and of ocean wavesThe multitudinous laughter,n10and thou Earth,Boon mother of us all, and thou bright roundOf the all-seeing Sun, you I invoke!Behold what ignominy of causeless wrongsI suffer from the gods, myself a god.See what piercing pains shall goad meThrough long ages myriad-numbered!With such wrongful chains hath bound meThis new leader of the gods.Ah me! present woes and futureI bemoan. O! when, O! whenShall the just redemption dawn?Yet why thus prate? I know what ills await me.No unexpected torture can surpriseMy soul prophetic; and with quiet mindWe all must bear our portioned fate, nor idlyCourt battle with a strong necessity.Alas! alas! ’tis hard to speak to the winds;Still harder to be dumb! my well-deservingsTo mortal men are all the offence that bowed meBeneath this yoke. The secret fount of fireI sought, and found, and in a reed concealed it;n11Whence arts have sprung to man, and life hath drawnRich store of comforts. For such deed I sufferThese bonds, in the broad eye of gracious day,Here crucified. Ah me! ah me! who comes?n12What sound, what viewless breath, thus taints the air,God sent, or mortal, or of mingled kind?What errant traveller ill-sped comes to viewThis naked ridge of extreme Earth, and me?Whoe’er thou art, a hapless god thou see’stNailed to this crag; the foe of Jove thou seest.Him thou see’st, whom all the ImmortalsWhoso tread the Olympian threshold,Name with hatred; thou beholdestMan’s best friend, and, therefore, hatedFor excess of love.Hark, again! I hear the whirringAs of winged birds approaching;With the light strokes of their pinionsEther pipes ill-boding whispers!—Alas! alas! that I should fearEach breath that nears me.[TheOceanidesapproach, borne through the air in a winged car.
Thou’lt spit thy venom on the ground in vain.
Chorus.
Thou being young, dost jeer my ancient years
With youthful insolence; till the doom appears,
I’ll patient wait; my hot-spurred wrath I’ll stay,
And even-poised betwixt two tempers sway.
Athena.
My part remains; and I this crowning pebble
Drop to Orestes; for I never knew
The mother’s womb that bore me.f20I give honor,
Save in my virgin nature, to the male
In all things; all my father lives in me.n51
Not blameless be the wife, who dared to slay
Her husband, lord and ruler of her home.
My voice is for Orestes; though the votes
Fall equal from the urn, my voice shall save him.
Now shake the urn, to whom this duty falls,
And tell the votes.
Orestes.
O Phœbus, how shall end
This doubtful issue?
Chorus.
O dark Night, my mother,
Behold these things!
Orestes.
One moment blinds me quite,
Or to a blaze of glory opes my eyes.
Chorus.
We sink to shame, or to more honor rise.
Apollo.n52
Judges, count well the pebbles as they fall,
And with just jealousy divide them. One
Being falsely counted works no simple harm.
One little pebble saves a mighty house.
Athena.
Hear now the doom. This man from blood is free.
The votes are equal; he escapes by me.
Orestes.
O Pallas, Saviour of my father’s house,
Restorer of the exile’s hope, Athena,
I praise thee! Now belike some Greek will say,
The Argive man revisiteth the homes
And fortunes of his father, by the aid
Of Pallas, Loxias, and Jove the Saviour
All-perfecting, who pled the father’s cause,
Fronting the wrathful Furies of the mother!
I now depart: and to this land I leave,
And to this people, through all future time,
An oath behind me, that no lord of Argos
Shall ever brandish the well-pointed spear
Against this friendly land.f21When, from the tomb,
I shall perceive who disregards this oath
Of my sons’ sons, I will perplex that man
With sore perplexities inextricable;
Ways of despair, and evil-birded pathsf22
Shall be his portion, cursing his own choice.
But if my vows be duly kept, with those
That in the closely-banded league shall aid
Athena’s city, I am present ever.
Then fare thee well, thou and thy people! Never
May foe escape thy grasp! When thou dost struggle,
Safety and victory attend thy spear! [Exit.
Chorus.
Curse on your cause,
Ye gods that are younger!
O’er the time-hallowed laws
Rough ye ride as the stronger.
Of the prey that was ours
Ye with rude hands bereave us,
’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
Shorn of honor ye leave us.
Behold, on the ground
From a heart of hostility,
I sprinkle around
Black gouts of sterility!
A plague I will bring,
With a dry lichen spreading;
No green blade shall spring
Where the Fury is treading.
To abortion I turn
The birth of the blooming,
Where the plague-spot shall burn
Of my wrath, life-consuming.
I am mocked,f23but in vain
They rejoice at my moaning;
They shall pay for my pain,
With a fearful atoning,
Who seized on my right,
And, with wrong unexampled,
On the daughters of Night
High scornfully trampled.
Athena.
Be ruled by me: your heavy-bosomed groans
Refrain. Not vanquished thou, but the fair vote
Leapt equal from the urn, with no disgrace
To thee. From Jove himself clear witness came;
The oracular god that urged the deed, the same
Stood here to vouch it, that Orestes might not
Reap harm from his obedience. Soothe ye, therefore;
Cast not your bolted vengeance on this land,
Your gouts of wrath divine distil not, stings
Of pointed venom, with keen corrosive power
Eating life’s seeds, all barrenness and blight.
A home within this land I pledge you, here
A shrine, a refuge, and a hearth secure,
Where ye on shining thrones shall sit, my city
Yielding devoutest homage to your power.
Chorus.
Curse on your cause,
Ye gods that are younger!
O’er the time-hallowed laws
Rough ye ride, as the stronger.
Of the prey that was ours
Ye with rude hands bereave us,
’Mid the dark-dreaded Powers
Shorn of honor ye leave us.
Behold, on the ground
From a heart of hostility,
I sprinkle around
Black gouts of sterility!
A plague I will bring
With a dry lichen spreading;
No green blade shall spring
Where the Fury is treading.
To abortion I turn
The birth of the blooming,
Where the plague-spot shall burn
Of my wrath, life-consuming.
I am mocked, but in vain
They rejoice at my moaning;
They shall pay for my pain,
With a fearful atoning,
Who seized on my right,
And, with wrong unexampled,
On the daughters of Night
High scornfully trampled.
Athena.
Dishonoured are ye not: Spit not your rancour
On this fair land remediless. Rests my trust
On Jove, the mighty, I of all the gods
Sharing alone the strong keys that unlock
His thunder-halls:n53but this I name not here.
Yield thou: cast not the seed of reckless speech
To crop the land with woe. Soothing the waves
Of bitter anger darkling in thy breast,
Dwell in this land, thy dreadful deity
Sistered with me. When thronging worshippers
Henceforth shall cull choice firstlings for thine altars,
Praying thy grace to bless the wedded rite,
And the child-bearing womb—then honoured so,
How wise my present counsel thou shalt know.
Chorus.Voice 1.
I to dwell ’neath the Earth
All clipt of my glory,
In the dark-chambered Earth,
I, the ancient, the hoary!
Voice 2.
I breathe on thee curses,
I cut through thy marrow,
For the insult that pierces
My heart like an arrow.
Voice 3.
Hear my cry, mother Night,
’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
With their harsh-handed might
Of my right they bereaved me.
Athena.
Thy anger I forgive; for thou’rt the elder.
But though thy years bring wisdom, to me also
Jove gave a heart, not undiscerning. You—
Mark well my words—if now some foreign land
Ye choose, will rue your choice, and long for Athens.
The years to be shall float more richly fraught
With honor to my citizens; thou shaft hold
An honoured seat beside Erectheus’ home,n54
Where men and women in marshalled pomp shall pay thee
Such homage, as no land on Earth may render.
But cast not ye on this my chosen land
Whetstones of fury, teaching knives to drink
The blood of tender bowels, madding the heart
With wineless drunkenness, that men shall swell
Like game cocks for the battle; save my city
From brothered strife, and from domestic brawls.n55
Without the walls, and far from kindred hearths
Rage war, where honor calls, and glory crowns.
A bird of blood within the house I love not.
Use thine election; wisely use it; give
A blessing, and a blessing take; with me
May this land dear to the gods be dear to thee!
Chorus.Voice 1.
I to dwell ’neath the Earth
All clipt of my glory,
In the dark-chambered Earth
I, the ancient, the hoary!
Voice 2.
I breathe on thee curses,
I cut through thy marrow,
For the insult that pierces
My heart like an arrow.
Voice 3.
Hear my cry, mother Night,
’Gainst the gods that deceived me!
With their harsh-handed might
Of my right they bereaved me.
Athena.
To advise thee well I faint not. Never more
Shalt thou, a hoary-dated power, complain
That I, a younger, or my citizens,
From our inhospitable gates expelled thee
Of thy due honors shortened. If respect
For sacred Peitho’sf24godhead, for the honey
And charming of the tongue may move thee, stay;
But, if ye will go, show of justice none
Remains, with rancour, wrath, and scathe to smite
This land and people. Stands your honoured lot
With me for ever, so ye scorn it not.
Chorus.
Sovran Athena, what sure home receives me?
Athena.
A home from sorrow free. Receive it freely.
Chorus.
And when received, what honors wait me then?
Athena.
No house shall prosper where thy blessing fails.
Chorus.
This by thy grace is sure?
Athena.
I will upbuild
His house who honours thee.
Chorus.
This pledged for ever?
Athena.
I cannot promise what I not perform.
Chorus.
Thy words have soothed me, and my wrath relents.
Athena.
Here harboured thou wilt number many friends.
Chorus.
Say, then, how shall my hymn uprise to bless thee?
Athena.
Hymn things that strike fair victory’s mark: from Earth,
From the sea’s briny dew, and from the sky
Bring blessings; the benignly-breathing gales
On summer wings be wafted to this land;
Let the Earth swell with the exuberant flow
Of fruits and flowers, that want may be unknown.
Bless human seed with increase, but cast out
The impious man; even as a gardener, I
Would tend the flowers, the briars and the thorns
Heaped for the burning. This thy province. I
In feats of Mars conspicuous will not fail
To plant this city ’fore all eyes triumphant.
STROPHE I.Chorus.
Pallas, thy welcome so kindly compelling
Hath moved me; I scorn not to mingle my dwelling
With thine, and with Jove’s, the all-ruling, thy sire.
The city I scorn not, where Mars guards the portals,
The fortress of gods,n56the fair grace of Immortals.
I bless thee prophetic; to work thy desire
To the Sun, when he shines in his full-flooded splendour,
Her tribute to thee may the swelling Earth render,
And bounty with bounty conspire!
Athena.
Athens, no trifling gain I’ve won thee.
With rich blessing thou shalt harbour,
Through my grace, these much-prevailing
Sternest-hearted Powers. For they
Rule, o’er human fates appointed,
With far-reaching sway.
Woe to the wretch, by their wrath smitten!n57
With strokes he knows not whence descending,
Not for his own, for guilt inherited,n58
They with silent-footed vengeance
Shall o’ertake him: in the dust,
Heaven with piercing cries imploring,
Crushed the sinner lies.
ANTISTROPHE I.Chorus.
Far from thy dwelling, and far from thy border,
By the grace of my godhead benignant I order
The blight that may blacken the bloom of thy trees.
Far from thy border, and far from thy dwelling
Be the hot blast that shrivels the bud in its swelling,
The seed-rotting taint, and the creeping disease!
Thy flocks still be doubled, thy seasons be steady,
And, when Hermes is near thee,n59thy hand still be ready
The Heaven-dropt bounty to seize!
Athena.
Hear her words, my city’s warders,
Fraught with blessing; she prevaileth
With Olympians and Infernals,
Dread Erinnys much revered.
Mortal fates she guideth plainly
To what goal she pleaseth, sending
Songs to some, to others days
With tearful sorrows dulled.
STROPHE II.Chorus.
Far from your dwelling
Be death’s early knelling,
When falls in his green strength the strong
Your virgins, the fairest,
To brave youths the rarest
Be mated, glad life to prolong!
Ye Fates, high-presiding,n60
The right well dividing,
Dread powers darkly mothered with me;
Our firm favour sharing,
From judgment unsparing
The homes of the just man be free!
But the guilty shall fear them,
When in terror shall near them
The Fates, sternly sistered with me.
Athena.
Work your perfect will, dread maidens,
O’er my land benignly watching!
I rejoice. Blest be the eyes
Of Peitho, that with strong persuasion
Armed my tongue, to soothe the fierce
Refusal of these awful maids.
Jove, that rules the forum, nobly
In the high debate hath conquered.n61
In the strife of blessing now,
You with me shall vie for ever.
ANTISTROPHE II.Chorus.
Far from thy border
The lawless disorder,
That sateless of evil shall reign!
Far from thy dwelling
The dear blood welling,
That taints thy own hearth with the stain,
When slaughter from slaughter
Shall flow, like the water,
And rancour from rancour shall grow!
But joy with joy blending
Live, each to all lending,
And hating one-hearted the foe!
When bliss hath departed,
From will single-hearted,
A fountain of healing shall flow.
Athena.
Wisely now the tongue of kindness
Thou hast found, the way of love;
And these terror-speaking faces
Now look wealth to me and mine.
Her so willing, ye more willing
Now receive; this land and city,
On ancient right securely throned,
Shall shine for evermore.
STROPHE III.Chorus.
Hail, and all hail! mighty people be greeted!
On the sons of Athena shine sunshine the clearest!
Blest people, near Jove the Olympian seated,
And dear to the virgin his daughter the dearest.
Timely wise ’neath the wings of the daughter ye gather;
And mildly looks down on her children the father.
Athena.
Hail, all hail to you! but chiefly
Me behoves it now to lead you
To your fore-appointed homes.
Go, with holy train attendant,
With sacrifice, and torch resplendent,
Underneath the ground.
Go, and with your potent godhead
Quell the ill that threats the city,
Spur the good to victory’s goal.
Lead the way ye sons of Cranaus,f25
To these strangers, strange no more;
Their kindly thoughts to you remember,
Grateful evermore.
ANTISTROPHE III.Chorus.
Hail, yet again, with this last salutation,
Ye sons of Athena, ye citizens all!
On gods, and on mortals, in high congregation
Assembled, my blessing not vainly shall fall.
O city of Pallas, while thou shalt revere me,
Thy walls hold the pledge that no harm shall come near thee.
Athena.
Well hymned. My heart chimes with you, and I send
The beamy-twinkling torches to conduct you
To your dark-vaulted chambers ’neath the ground.
They who attend my shrine, with pious homage,
Shall be your convoy. The fair eye of the land,
The marshalled host of Theseus’ sons shall march
In festive train with you, both man and woman,
Matron and maid, green youth and hoary age.
Honor the awful maids, clad with the grace
Of purple-tinctured robes; and let the flame
March ’fore their path bright-rayed; and, evermore,
With populous wealth smile every Attic rood
Blessed by this gracious-minded sisterhood.n62
[Convoy,conducting theEumenidesin festal pomp to their subterranean temple, with torches in their hands:
STROPHE I.
Go with honor crowned and glory,
Of hoary Night the daughters hoary,
To your destined hall.
Where our sacred train is wending,
Stand, ye pious throngs attending,
Hushed in silence all.
ANTISTROPHE I.
Go to hallowed habitations,
’Neath Ogygianf26Earth’s foundations:
In that darksome hall
Sacrifice and supplication
Shall not fail. In adoration
Silent worship all.
STROPHE II.
Here, in caverned halls, abiding,
High on awful thrones presiding,
Gracious ye shall reign.
March in torches’ glare rejoicing!
Sing, ye throngs, their praises, voicing
Loud the exultant strain!
ANTISTROPHE II.
Blazing torch, and pure libation
From age to age this pious nation
Shall not use in vain.
Thus hath willed it Jove all-seeing,
Thus the Fate. To their decreeing
Shout the responsive strain!
[The End]
A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLEΔῆσε δ᾽ ἀλυκτοπέδῃσι Προμηθέα ποικιλόβουληνΔεσμοῖς ἀργαλέοισι.Hesiod.Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.Shelley.
A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE
A LYRICO-DRAMATIC SPECTACLE
Δῆσε δ᾽ ἀλυκτοπέδῃσι Προμηθέα ποικιλόβουληνΔεσμοῖς ἀργαλέοισι.Hesiod.
Δῆσε δ᾽ ἀλυκτοπέδῃσι Προμηθέα ποικιλόβουλην
Δεσμοῖς ἀργαλέοισι.
Hesiod.
Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.Shelley.
Neither to change, nor flatter, nor repent.
Shelley.
MightandForce,Ministers of Jove.HephaesthusorVulcan,the God of Fire.Prometheus,Son of Iapetus, a Titan.Chorus of Oceanides.Oceanus.Io,Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.Hermes,Messenger of the Gods.Scene—A Rocky Desert in European Scythia.
MightandForce,Ministers of Jove.HephaesthusorVulcan,the God of Fire.Prometheus,Son of Iapetus, a Titan.Chorus of Oceanides.Oceanus.Io,Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.Hermes,Messenger of the Gods.
MightandForce,Ministers of Jove.
HephaesthusorVulcan,the God of Fire.
Prometheus,Son of Iapetus, a Titan.
Chorus of Oceanides.
Oceanus.
Io,Daughter of Inachus, King of Argos.
Hermes,Messenger of the Gods.
Inthe mythology of the ancient Greeks, as of many other nations, we find the earlier periods characterised by a series of terrible mundane struggles—wars in Heaven and wars on Earth—which serve as an introduction to, and a preparation for the more regularly ordered and more permanent dynasty that ultimately sways the sceptre of Olympus. In the theological poem of Hesiod, as in the prose narration of Apollodorus,HeavenandEarthare represented as the rulers of the first celestial dynasty; their offspring, called Titans, in the person of one of their number,Kronos, by a violent act of dethronement, forms a second dynasty; while he, in his turn, after a no less violent struggle, gives place to a third sceptre—viz., that ofJove—who, in the faith of the orthodox Athenian, was the supreme ruler of the world of gods, and men, now, after many throes and struggles, arrived, at its normal state, not henceforward to be disturbed. The general character which this succession of dynasties exhibits, is that of order arising out of confusion, peace out of war, and wisely-reasoned plan triumphing over brute force—
“Scimus ut impiosTitanas immanemque turmamFulmine sustulerit caduco,Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperatVentosum, et urbes, regnaque tristia,Divosque, mortalesque turbas,Imperio regit unus aequo.”
“Scimus ut impiosTitanas immanemque turmamFulmine sustulerit caduco,Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperatVentosum, et urbes, regnaque tristia,Divosque, mortalesque turbas,Imperio regit unus aequo.”
“Scimus ut impios
Titanas immanemque turmam
Fulmine sustulerit caduco,
Qui terram inertem, qui mare temperat
Ventosum, et urbes, regnaque tristia,
Divosque, mortalesque turbas,
Imperio regit unus aequo.”
This representation of the philosophic lyrist of a late age is in perfect harmony with the epithets μητιόεις and μητιέτα given to Jove by the earliest Greek poets, and with the allegory by which Μῆτις, orCounselpersonified, is represented as one of the wives of the Supreme Ruler. It is worthy of notice also, in the same view, that the legends about the Titans, Giants, and other Earth-born monsters, warring with Jove, are often attached to districts—such as Campania and Cilicia—in which the signs of early volcanic action are, even at the present day, unmistakeable; plainly indicating that such mythic narrations were only exhibitions, in the historical form (according to the early style), of great elemental convulsions and physical changes taking place on the face of the Earth.
Among the persons most prominent in that primeval age of gigantic “world-strife” (if we may be allowed to Anglicize a German compound) stands Prometheus; not, however, like his Titan brethren in character, though identical with them in descent, and in the position which he finally assumed towards the god in whose hands the supreme government of the world eventually remained. Prometheus, as his name denotes, strives against the high authority of Jove, not by that “reasonless force which falls by its own weight,” but by intelligence and cunning. Viewed in this character, he was the natural ally, not of the serpent-footed Giants and the flame-breathing Typhon, but of the All-wise Olympian; and such, indeed, Æschylus, in the present piece (v. 219,p. 189below), represents as having been his original position: but, as “before honor is humility, and before pride comes a fall,” so the son of Iapetus, like Tantalus, and so many others in the profoundly moral mythology of the Hellenes, found himself exalted into the fellowship of the blissful gods, only that he might be precipitated into a more terrible depth of misery. He was wise; nay, benevolent (ἄκακητα, Hesiod. Theog., 614); his delight was to exercise his high intellect in the elevation of the infant human race, sunk in a state of almost brutish stupidity; he stood forward as an incarnation of that practical intellect (so triumphant in these latter days), which subjects the rude elements of nature, for human use and convenience, to mechanical calculation and control; but, with all this, he was proud, he was haughty; his Titanic strength and his curious intellect he used, to shake himself free from all dependence on the highest power, which the constitution of things had ordered should stand as the strong key-stone of the whole. Not to ruin mankind, but to save them, he sinned the sin of Lucifer; he would make himself God; and, as in the eye of a court-martial, the subaltern who usurps the functions of the commander-in-chief stands not acquitted, because he alleges that he acted with a benevolent intent, or for the public good, so, in the faith of an orthodox Athenian, Prometheus was not the less worthy of his airy chains because he defied the will of Jove in the championship of mankind. Neither man nor god may question or impugn the divine decree of supreme Jove, on grounds of expediency or propriety. With the will of Zeus, as with the laws of nature, there is no arguing. In this relationship the first, second, and third point of duty is submission. Such is the doctrine of modern Christian theology; such, also, was the doctrine of the old Hellenic theologer,Hesiod—
Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.Theog. 613.
Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.Theog. 613.
Vain the wit is of the wisest to deceive the mind of Jove;
Not Prometheus, son of Iapetus, though his heart was moved by love,
Might escape the heavy anger of the god that rules the skies,
But, despite of all his cunning, with a strong chain bound he lies.
Theog. 613.
Those who are acquainted with the philological learning on this subject, which I have discussed elsewhere,f1or even with the common ideas on the legend of Prometheus brought into circulation by the productions of modern poetry, are aware that the view just given of the moral significance of this weighty old myth, is not the current one, and that we are rather accustomed to look upon Prometheus as a sort of proto-martyr of liberty, bearing up with the strength of a god against the punishment unjustly inflicted on him by the celestial usurper and tyrant, Jove. But Hesiod, we have just seen, looks on the matter with very different eyes; and the unquestioned supremacy of Jove that stands out everywhere, from the otherwise not always consistent theological system of the Iliad, leads plainly to the conclusion that Homer also, had he had occasion to introduce this legend, would have handled it in a spirit altogether different from our Shelleys and Byrons, and other earth-shaking and heaven-scaling poets of the modern revolutionary school. As little is there any ground (see thelife of Æschylus) for the supposition that our tragedian has taken up different theological ground in reference to this myth, from that which belonged to the two great expositors of the popular creed; not to mention the staring absurdity of the idea, that a grave tragic poet in a serious composition, at a public religious festival, should have dared, or daring, should have been allowed, to hold up their supreme deity to a nation of freemen in the character of a cruel and unjust tyrant. Thrown back, therefore, on the original Hesiodic conception of the myth, we are led to observe that the imperfect and unsatisfactory ideas so current on this subject in modern times, have taken their rise from the practice (so natural under the circumstances) of looking on the extant piece as a complete whole, whereas nothing is more certain than that it is only a fragment; the second part, in fact, of a dramatic trilogy similar in conception and execution to that, of which we have endeavoured to present a reflection in the preceding pages. Potter, in his translation published a hundred years ago, prefaced his version of the present piece with the well-known fact, that Æschylus wrote three plays on this subject—the Fire-bringing Prometheus, the Prometheus Bound, and the Prometheus Unbound—this intimationwas not sufficient to prevent his readers, with the usual hastiness of human logic, from judging of what they saw, as if it were an organic whole, containing within itself every element necessary for forming a true conception of its character. The consequence was, that the hero of the piece, who, of course, tells his own story in the most favourable way for himself, was considered as having passed a final judgment on the case; as the friend and representative of man, he naturally seemed entitled to the gratitude of men; while Jove, being now only an idol in the world (perhaps a devil), and having no advocate in the heart of the modern reader, was made to stand—on the representation of the same Prometheus—as the type of heartless tyranny, and the impersonation of absolute power combined with absolute selfishness. This is Shelley’s view; but that such was not the view of Æschylus we may be assured, both from the consideration already mentioned, and from the poet’s method of reconciling apparently incompatible claims of opposite celestial powers, so curiously exhibited in the Eumenides. In the trilogy of the preceding pages, Orestes stands in a situation, so far as the development of the plot is concerned, precisely analogous to that of Prometheus in the present piece. His conduct, as submitted to the moral judgment of the spectator, produces the same conflict of contrary emotions of which his own bosom is the victim. With the one-half of our heart we approve of his avenging his father’s murder; with the other half, we plead that a son shall, on no ground of offence, allow his indignation to proceed so far as to imbrue his hands in the blood of her whose milk he had sucked. This contrariety of emotions excited in the second piece of the trilogy, produces the tragic knot, which it is the business of the poet to unloose, by the worthy interposition of a god. “Nec Deus intersit, nisi dignus vindice nodus.”—Exactly so in the second piece of the Promethean trilogy, our moral judgment praises the benevolence of the god, who, to elevate our human race from brutish degradation, dared to defy omnipotent power, and to deceive the wisdom of the omniscient; while, at the same time, we cannot but condemn the spirit of unreined independence that would shake itself free from the great centre of moral cohesion, and the reckless boldness that casts reproach in, the face of the great Ruler of the universe. In this state of suspense, represented by the doubtful attitude of the Chorusf2through the whole play, the present fragment of the great Æschylean Promethiad leaves the well-instructed modern reader; and it admitsnot, in my view, of a doubt that, in the concluding piece, it remained for the poet to effect a reconciliation between the contending interests and clashing emotions, somewhat after the fashion of which we possess a specimen in the Eumenides. By what agency of individuals or of arguments this was done, it is hopeless now to inquire; the fragmentary notices that remain are too meagre to justify a scientific restoration of the lost drama; they who wish to see what erudite imagination can do in this direction may consult Welcker and Schoemann—Welcker, in the shape of prose dissertation in hisTrilogie, p. 28; andSchoemann, in the shape of a poetical restoration of the lost poem, in the Appendix to his very valuable edition of this play. About one thing only can we be certain, that, in the ultimate settlement of disputed claims, neither will Prometheus, on the one hand, be degraded from the high position on which the poet has planted him as a sort of umpire between gods and men, nor will Jove yield one whit of his supreme right to exact the bitterest penalties from man or god who presumes to act independently of, and even in opposition to his will. The tragic poet will duly exercise his grand function of keeping the powers of the celestial world—as he does the contending emotions of the human mind—in due equipoise and subordination.f3
The plot of the Prometheus Unbound is the simplest possible, being not so much the dramatic progression of a course of events, as a single dramatic situation presented through the whole piece under different aspects. The theft of fire from Heaven, or (as the notice of Cicero seems to indicate) from the Lemnian volcano of Mosychlos,f4having been perpetrated in the previous piece,MightandForce, two allegorical personages, the ministers of Jove’s vengeance, are now introduced, along withHephaestus, the forger of celestial chains, nailing the benevolent offender to a cold craggy rock in the wastes of European Scythia. In this condition when, after a long silence, he at length gives vent to his complaint, certain kindred divine persons—first, the Oceanides, or daughters of Ocean, and then their hoary sire himself, are brought on the scene, with words of solace and friendly exhortation to the sufferer.f5When all the arguments that these parties have to advance are exhausted in vain, another mythic personage, of a different character, and for adifferent purpose, appears. This is Io, the daughter of Inachus, the primeval king of Argos, who, having enjoyed the unblissful distinction of stirring the heart of Jove with love, is, by the jealous wrath of Hera, transmuted into the likeness of a cowf6and sent wandering to the ends of the Earth, fretted into restless distraction by the stings of a malignant insect. This character serves a threefold purpose. First, as a sufferer, tracing the origin of all her misery from Jove, she both sympathizes strongly with Prometheus, and exhibits the character of Jove in another unfavourable aspect; secondly, with her wild maniac cries and reinless fits of distraction, she presents a fine contrast to the calm self-possession with which the stout-hearted Titan endures the penalty of his pride; and, in the third place, as the progenitrix of the Argive Hercules, the destined instrument of the delivery of Prometheus, she connects the middle with the concluding piece of the trilogy. Last of all, when this strange apparition has vanished, appears on the scene the great Olympian negotiator, Hermes; who, with the eloquence peculiar to himself, and the threatened terrors of his supreme master, endeavours to break the pride and to bend the will of the lofty-minded offender. In vain. The threatened terrors of the Thunderer now suddenly start into reality; and, amid the roar of contending elements, the pealing Heaven and the quaking Earth, the Jove-defying son of Iapetus descends into Hell.
The superhuman grandeur and high tragic sublimity which belongs to the very conception of this subject, has suffered nothing in respect of treatment from the genius of the bard who dared to handle it. The Prometheus Bound, though inferior in point of lyric richness and variety to the Agamemnon, and though somewhat overloaded with narrative in one place, is nevertheless felt throughout to be one of the most powerful productions of one of the most powerful minds that the history of literature knows. No work of a similar lofty character certainly has ever been so extensively popular. The Prometheus Unbound of Shelley, and Lord Byron’s Manfred, bear ample witness, of which we may well be proud, to the relationship which exists between the severe Melpomene of ancient Greece, and the lofty British Muse.
EnterMightandForce,leading inPrometheus;Hephaestus,with chains.
Might.
At length the utmost bound of Earth we’ve reached,
This Scythian soil, this wild untrodden waste.n1
Hephaestus now Jove’s high behests demand
Thy care; to these steep cliffy rocks bind down
With close-linked chains of during adamant
This daring wretch.n2For he the bright-rayed fire,
Mother of arts, flower of thy potency,
Filched from the gods, and gave to mortals. Here,
Just guerdon of his sin shall find him; here
Let his pride learn to bow to Jove supreme,
And love men well, but love them not too much.
Hephaesthus.
Ye twain, rudeMightandForce, have done your work
To the perfect end; but I—my heart shrinks back
From the harsh task to nail a kindred godn3
To this storm-battered crag. Yet dare I must.
Where Jove commands, whoso neglects rebels,
And pays the traitor’s fine. High-counselled son
Of right-decreeing Themis,n4I force myself
No less than thee, when to this friendless rock
With iron bonds I chain thee, where nor shape
Nor voice of wandering mortal shall relieve
Thy lonely watch; but the fierce-burning sun
Shall parch and bleach thy fresh complexion. Thou,
When motley-mantled Nightf7hath hid the day,
Shalt greet the darkness, with how short a joy!
For the morn’s sun the nightly dew shall scatter,
And thou be pierced again with the same pricks
Of endless woe—and saviour shall be none.n5
Such fruits thy forward love to men hath wrought thee.
Thyself a god, the wrath of gods to thee
Seemed little, and to men thou didst dispense
Forbidden gifts. For this thou shalt keep watch
On this delightless rock, fixed and erect,
With lid unsleeping, and with knee unbent.
Alas! what groans and wails shalt thou pour forth,
Fruitless. Jove is not weak that he should bend;n6
For young authority must ever be
Harsh and severe.
Might.
Enough of words and tears.
This god, whom all the gods detest, wilt thou
Not hate, thou, whom his impious larceny
Did chiefly injure?
Hephaesthus.
But, my friend, my kinsman—
Might.
True, that respect; but the dread father’s word
Respect much more. Jove’s word respect and fear.
Hephaesthus.
Harsh is thy nature, and thy heart is full
Of pitiless daring.
Might.
Tears were wasted here,
And labour lost is all concern for him.
Hephaesthus.
O thrice-cursed trade, that e’er my hand should use it!
Might.
Curse not thy craft; the cunning of thy hand
Makes not his woes; he made them for himself.
Hephaesthus.
Would that some other hand had drawn the lot
To do this deed!
Might.
All things may be, but this
To dictate to the gods.n7There’s one that’s free,
One only; Jove.
Hephaesthus.
I know it, and am dumb.
Might.
Then gird thee to the work, chain down the culprit,
Lest Jove thy laggard zeal behold, and blame.
Hephaesthus.
The irons here are ready.
Might.
Take them, and strike
Stout blows with the hammer; nail him to the rock.
Hephaesthus.
The work speeds well, and lingers not.
Might.
Strike! strike!
With ring, and clamp, and wedge make sure the work.
He hath a subtle wit will find itself
A way where way is none.
Hephaesthus.
This arm is fast.
Might.
Then clasp this other. Let the sophist know,
Against great Jove how dull a thing is wit.
Hephaesthus.
None but the victim can reprove my zeal.
Might.
Now take this adamantine bolt, and force
Its point resistless through his rebel breast.
Hephaesthus.
Alas! alas! Prometheus, but I pity thee!
Might.
Dost lag again, and for Jove’s enemies weep
Fond tears? Beware thou have no cause to weep
Tears for thyself.
Hephaesthus.
Thou see’st no sightly sight
For eyes to look on.
Might.
I behold a sower
Reaping what thing he sowed. But take these thongs,
And bind his sides withal.
Hephaesthus.
I must! I must!
Nor needs thy urging.
Might.
Nay, but I will urge,
Command, and bellow in thine ear! Proceed,
Lower—yet lower—and with these iron rings
Enclasp his legs.
Hephaesthus.
’Tis done, and quickly done.
Might.
Now pierce his feet through with these nails. Strike hard!
There’s one will sternly prove thy work, and thee.
Hephaesthus.
Harsh is thy tongue, and, like thy nature, hard.
Might.
Art thou a weakling, do not therefore blame
The firm harsh-fronted will that suits my office.
Hephaesthus.
Let us away. He’s fettered limb and thew.
Might.
There lie, and feed thy pride on this bare rock,
Filching gods’ gifts for mortal men. What man
Shall free thee from these woes? Thou hast been called
In vain the Provident:n8had thy soul possessed
The virtue of thy name, thou hadst foreseen
These cunning toils, and hadst unwound thee from them.
[Exeunt all, exceptPrometheus,who is left chained.
Prometheus.n9
O divine ether, and swift-winged winds,
And river-fountains, and of ocean waves
The multitudinous laughter,n10and thou Earth,
Boon mother of us all, and thou bright round
Of the all-seeing Sun, you I invoke!
Behold what ignominy of causeless wrongs
I suffer from the gods, myself a god.
See what piercing pains shall goad me
Through long ages myriad-numbered!
With such wrongful chains hath bound me
This new leader of the gods.
Ah me! present woes and future
I bemoan. O! when, O! when
Shall the just redemption dawn?
Yet why thus prate? I know what ills await me.
No unexpected torture can surprise
My soul prophetic; and with quiet mind
We all must bear our portioned fate, nor idly
Court battle with a strong necessity.
Alas! alas! ’tis hard to speak to the winds;
Still harder to be dumb! my well-deservings
To mortal men are all the offence that bowed me
Beneath this yoke. The secret fount of fire
I sought, and found, and in a reed concealed it;n11
Whence arts have sprung to man, and life hath drawn
Rich store of comforts. For such deed I suffer
These bonds, in the broad eye of gracious day,
Here crucified. Ah me! ah me! who comes?n12
What sound, what viewless breath, thus taints the air,
God sent, or mortal, or of mingled kind?
What errant traveller ill-sped comes to view
This naked ridge of extreme Earth, and me?
Whoe’er thou art, a hapless god thou see’st
Nailed to this crag; the foe of Jove thou seest.
Him thou see’st, whom all the Immortals
Whoso tread the Olympian threshold,
Name with hatred; thou beholdest
Man’s best friend, and, therefore, hated
For excess of love.
Hark, again! I hear the whirring
As of winged birds approaching;
With the light strokes of their pinions
Ether pipes ill-boding whispers!—
Alas! alas! that I should fear
Each breath that nears me.
[TheOceanidesapproach, borne through the air in a winged car.