PROMETHEUS BOUND
DRAMATIS PERSONÆ
Prometheus Hermes Okeanos Strength Hephæstos Force Chorus of Ocean Nymphs And in yet another story was the cruelty of the Gods made known. For Zeus loved Io, the daughter of Inachos, king of Argos, and she was haunted by visions of the night, telling her of his passion, and she told her father thereof. And Inachos, sending to the God at Delphi, was told to drive Io forth from her home. And Zeus gave her the horns of a cow, and Hera, who hated her because she was dear to Zeus, sent with her a gadfly that stung her, and gave her no rest, and drove her over many lands.
Note.—The play is believed to have been the second of a Trilogy, of which the first was Prometheus the Fire-giver, and the third Prometheus Unbound.
PROMETHEUS BOUND
Scene.—Skythia, on the heights of Caucasos. The Euxine seen in the distance
Enter Hephæstos, Strength, and Force, leading Prometheus in chains
Strength. Lo! to a plain, earth's boundary remote, We now are come,—the tract as Skythian known, A desert inaccessible: and now, Hephæstos, it is thine to do the hests The Father gave thee, to these lofty crags To bind this crafty trickster fast in chains Of adamantine bonds that none can break; For he thy choice flower stealing, the bright glory Of fire that all arts spring from, hath bestowed it On mortal men. And so for fault like this He now must pay the Gods due penalty, That he may learn to bear the sovereign rule Of Zeus, and cease from his philanthropy.
Heph. O Strength, and thou, O Force, the hest of Zeus, As far as touches you, attains its end, And nothing hinders. Yet my courage fails To bind a God of mine own kin by force To this bare rock where tempests wildly sweep; And yet I needs must muster courage for it: 'Tis no slight thing the Father's words to scorn. O thou of Themis [to Prometheus] wise in counsel son, Full deep of purpose, lo! against my will, I fetter thee against thy will with bonds Of bronze that none can loose, to this lone height, Where thou shalt know nor voice nor face of man, But scorching in the hot blaze of the sun, Shalt lose thy skin's fair beauty. Thou shalt long For starry-mantled night to hide day's sheen, For sun to melt the rime of early dawn; And evermore the weight of present ill Shall wear thee down. Unborn as yet is he Who shall release thee: this the fate thou gain'st As due reward for thy philanthropy. For thou, a God not fearing wrath of Gods, In thy transgression gav'st their power to men; And therefore on this rock of little ease Thou still shalt keep thy watch, nor lying down, Nor knowing sleep, nor ever bending knee; And many groans and wailings profitless Thy lips shall utter; for the mind of Zeus Remains inexorable. Who holds a power But newly gained is ever stern of mood.
Strength. Let be! Why linger in this idle pity? Why dost not hate a God to Gods a foe, Who gave thy choicest prize to mortal men?
Heph. Strange is the power of kin and intercourse.
Strength. I own it; yet to slight the Father's words, How may that be? Is not that fear the worse?
Heph. Still art thou ruthless, full of savagery.
Strength. There is no help in weeping over him: Spend not thy toil on things that profit not.
Heph. O handicraft to me intolerable!
Strength. Why loath'st thou it? Of these thy present griefs That craft of thine is not one whit the cause.
Heph. And yet I would some other had that skill.
Strength. *All things bring toil except for Gods to reign; For none but Zeus can boast of freedom true.
Heph. Too well I see the proof, and gainsay not.
Strength. Wilt thou not speed to fix the chains on him, Lest He, the Father, see thee loitering here?
Heph. Well, here the handcuffs thou may'st see prepared.
Strength. In thine hands take him. Then with all thy might Strike with thine hammer; nail him to the rocks.
Heph. The work goes on, I ween, and not in vain.
Strength. Strike harder, rivet, give no whit of ease: A wondrous knack has he to find resource, Even where all might seem to baffle him.
Heph. Lo! this his arm is fixed inextricably.
Strength. Now rivet thou this other fast, that he May learn, though sharp, that he than Zeus is duller.
Heph. No one but he could justly blame my work.
Strength. Now drive the stern jaw of the adamant wedge Right through his chest with all the strength thou hast.
Heph. Ah me! Prometheus, for thy woes I groan.
Strength. Again, thou'rt loth, and for the foes of Zeus Thou groanest: take good heed to it lest thou Ere long with cause thyself commiserate.
Heph. Thou see'st a sight unsightly to our eyes.
Strength. I see this man obtaining his deserts: Nay, cast thy breast-chains round about his ribs.
Heph. I must needs do it. Spare thine o'er much bidding; Go thou below and rivet both his legs.
Strength. Nay, I will bid thee, urge thee to thy work.
Heph. There, it is done, and that with no long toil.
Strength. Now with thy full power fix the galling fetters: Thou hast a stern o'erlooker of thy work.
Heph. Thy tongue but utters words that match thy form.
Strength. Choose thou the melting mood; but chide not me For my self-will and wrath and ruthlessness.
Heph. Now let us go, his limbs are bound in chains.
Strength. Here then wax proud, and stealing what belongs To the Gods, to mortals give it. What can they Avail to rescue thee from these thy woes? Falsely the Gods have given thee thy name, Prometheus, Forethought; forethought thou dost need To free thyself from this rare handiwork. [Exeunt Hephæstos, Strength, and Force, leaving Prometheus on the rock Prom. Thou firmament of God, and swift-winged winds, Ye springs of rivers, and of ocean waves That smile innumerous! Mother of us all, O Earth, and Sun's all-seeing eye, behold, I pray, what I a God from Gods endure. Behold in what foul case I for ten thousand years Shall struggle in my woe, In these unseemly chains. Such doom the new-made Monarch of the Blest Hath now devised for me. Woe, woe! The present and the oncoming pang I wail, as I search out The place and hour when end of all these ills Shall dawn on me at last. What say I? All too clearly I foresee The things that come, and nought of pain shall be By me unlooked-for; but I needs must bear My destiny as best I may, knowing well The might resistless of Necessity. And neither may I speak of this my fate, Nor hold my peace. For I, poor I, through giving Great gifts to mortal men, am prisoner made In these fast fetters; yea, in fennel stalk I snatched the hidden spring of stolen fire, Which is to men a teacher of all arts, Their chief resource. And now this penalty Of that offence I pay, fast riveted In chains beneath the open firmament. Ha! ha! What now? What sound, what odour floats invisibly? Is it of God or man, or blending both? And has one come to the remotest rock To look upon my woes? Or what wills he? Behold me bound, a God to evil doomed, The foe of Zeus, and held In hatred by all Gods Who tread the courts of Zeus: And this for my great love, Too great, for mortal men. Ah me! what rustling sounds Hear I of birds not far? With the light whirr of wings The air re-echoeth: All that draws nigh to me is cause of fear.
Enter Chorus of Ocean Nymphs, with wings, floating in the air
Chor. Nay, fear thou nought: in love All our array of wings In eager race hath come To this high peak, full hardly gaining o'er Our Father's mind and will; And the swift-rushing breezes bore me on: For lo! the echoing sound of blows on iron Pierced to our cave's recess, and put to flight My shamefast modesty, And I in unshod haste, on winged car, To thee rushed hitherward.
Prom. Ah me! ah me! Offspring of Tethys blest with many a child, Daughters of Old Okeanos that rolls Round all the earth with never-sleeping stream, Behold ye me, and see With what chains fettered fast, I on the topmost crags of this ravine Shall keep my sentry-post unenviable.
Chor. I see it, O Prometheus, and a mist Of fear and full of tears comes o'er mine eyes, Thy frame beholding thus, Writhing on these high rocks In adamantine ills. New pilots now o'er high Olympos rule, And with new-fashioned laws Zeus reigns, down-trampling right, And all the ancient powers He sweeps away.
Prom. Ah! would that 'neath the Earth, 'neath Hades too, Home of the dead, far down to Tartaros Unfathomable He in fetters fast In wrath had hurled me down: So neither had a God Nor any other mocked at these my woes; But now, the wretched plaything of the winds, I suffer ills at which my foes rejoice.
Chor. Nay, which of all the Gods Is so hard-hearted as to joy in this? Who, Zeus excepted, doth not pity thee In these thine ills? But He, Ruthless, with soul unbent, Subdues the heavenly host, nor will He cease Until his heart be satiate with power, Or some one seize with subtle stratagem The sovran might that so resistless seemed.
Prom. Nay, of a truth, though put to evil shame, In massive fetters bound, The Ruler of the Gods Shall yet have need of me, yes, e'en of me, To tell the counsel new That seeks to strip from him His sceptre and his might of sovereignty. In vain will He with words Or suasion's honeyed charms Soothe me, nor will I tell Through fear of his stern threats, Ere He shall set me free From these my bonds, and make, Of his own choice, amends For all these outrages.
Chor. Full rash art thou, and yield'st In not a jot to bitterest form of woe; Thou art o'er-free and reckless in thy speech: But piercing fear hath stirred My inmost soul to strife; For I fear greatly touching thy distress, As to what haven of these woes of thine Thou now must steer: the son of Cronos hath A stubborn mood and heart inexorable.
Prom. I know that Zeus is hard, And keeps the Right supremely to himself; But then, I trow, He'll be Full pliant in his will, When He is thus crushed down. Then, calming down his mood Of hard and bitter wrath, He'll hasten unto me, As I to him shall haste, For friendship and for peace.
Chor. Hide it not from us, tell us all the tale: For what offence Zeus, having seized thee thus, So wantonly and bitterly insults thee: If the tale hurt thee not, inform thou us.
Prom. Painful are these things to me e'en to speak: Painful is silence; everywhere is woe. For when the high Gods fell on mood of wrath, And hot debate of mutual strife was stirred, Some wishing to hurl Cronos from his throne, That Zeus, forsooth, might reign; while others strove, Eager that Zeus might never rule the Gods: Then I, full strongly seeking to persuade The Titans, yea, the sons of Heaven and Earth, Failed of my purpose. Scorning subtle arts, With counsels violent, they thought that they By force would gain full easy mastery. But then not once or twice my mother Themis And Earth, one form though bearing many names, Had prophesied the future, how 'twould run, That not by strength nor yet by violence, But guile, should those who prospered gain the day. And when in my words I this counsel gave, They deigned not e'en to glance at it at all. And then of all that offered, it seemed best To join my mother, and of mine own will, Not against his will, take my side with Zeus, And by my counsels, mine, the dark deep pit Of Tartaros the ancient Cronos holds, Himself and his allies. Thus profiting By me, the mighty ruler of the Gods Repays me with these evil penalties: For somehow this disease in sovereignty Inheres, of never trusting to one's friends. And since ye ask me under what pretence He thus maltreats me, I will show it you: For soon as He upon his father's throne Had sat secure, forthwith to divers Gods He divers gifts distributed, and his realm Began to order. But of mortal men He took no heed, but purposed utterly To crush their race and plant another new; And, I excepted, none dared cross his will; But I did dare, and mortal men I freed From passing on to Hades thunder-stricken; And therefore am I bound beneath these woes, Dreadful to suffer, pitiable to see: And I, who in my pity thought of men More than myself, have not been worthy deemed To gain like favour, but all ruthlessly I thus am chained, foul shame this sight to Zeus.
Chor. Iron-hearted must he be and made of rock Who is not moved, Prometheus, by thy woes: Fain could I wish I ne'er had seen such things, And, seeing them, am wounded to the heart.
Prom. Yea, I am piteous for my friends to see.
Chor. Did'st thou not go to farther lengths than this?
Prom. I made men cease from contemplating death.
Chor. What medicine did'st thou find for that disease?
Prom. Blind hopes I gave to live and dwell with them.
Chor. Great service that thou did'st for mortal men!
Prom. And more than that, I gave them fire, yes I.
Chor. Do short-lived men the flaming fire possess?
Prom. Yea, and full many an art they'll learn from it.
Chor. And is it then on charges such as these That Zeus maltreats thee, and no respite gives Of many woes? And has thy pain no end?
Prom. End there is none, except as pleases Him.
Chor. How shall it please? What hope hast thou? See'st not That thou hast sinned? Yet to say how thou sinned'st Gives me no pleasure, and is pain to thee. Well! let us leave these things, and, if we may, Seek out some means to 'scape from this thy woe.
Prom. 'Tis a light thing for one who has his foot Beyond the reach of evil to exhort And counsel him who suffers. This to me Was all well known. Yea, willing, willingly I sinned, nor will deny it. Helping men, I for myself found trouble: yet I thought not That I with such dread penalties as these Should wither here on these high-towering crags, Lighting on this lone hill and neighbourless. Wherefore wail not for these my present woes, But, drawing nigh, my coming fortunes hear, That ye may learn the whole tale to the end. Nay, hearken, hearken; show your sympathy With him who suffers now. 'Tis thus that woe, Wandering, now falls on this one, now on that.
Chor. Not to unwilling hearers hast thou uttered, Prometheus, thy request, And now with nimble foot abounding My swiftly rushing car, And the pure æther, path of birds of heaven, I will draw near this rough and rocky land, For much do I desire To hear this tale, full measure, of thy woes.
Enter Okeanos, on a car drawn by a winged gryphon
Okean. Lo, I come to thee, Prometheus, Reaching goal of distant journey, Guiding this my winged courser By my will, without a bridle; And thy sorrows move my pity. Force, in part, I deem, of kindred Leads me on, nor know I any, Whom, apart from kin, I honour More than thee, in fuller measure. This thou shall own true and earnest: I deal not in glozing speeches. Come then, tell me how to help thee; Ne'er shalt thou say that one more friendly Is found than unto thee is Okean.
Prom. Let be. What boots it? Thou then too art come To gaze upon my sufferings. How did'st dare Leaving the stream that bears thy name, and caves Hewn in the living rock, this land to visit, Mother of iron? What then, art thou come To gaze upon my fall and offer pity? Behold this sight: see here the friend of Zeus, Who helped to seat him in his sovereignty, With what foul outrage I am crushed by him!
Okean. I see, Prometheus, and I wish to give thee My best advice, all subtle though thou be. Know thou thyself, and fit thy soul to moods To thee full new. New king the Gods have now; But if thou utter words thus rough and sharp, Perchance, though sitting far away on high, Zeus yet may hear thee, and his present wrath Seem to thee but as child's play of distress. Nay, thou poor sufferer, quit the rage thou hast, And seek a remedy for these thine ills. A tale thrice-told, perchance I seem to speak: Lo! this, Prometheus, is the punishment Of thine o'er lofty speech, nor art thou yet Humbled, nor yieldest to thy miseries, And fain would'st add fresh evils unto these. But thou, if thou wilt take me as thy teacher, Wilt not kick out against the pricks; seeing well A monarch reigns who gives account to none. And now I go, and will an effort make, If I, perchance, may free thee from thy woes; Be still then, hush thy petulance of speech, Or knowest thou not, o'er-clever as thou art, That idle tongues must still their forfeit pay?
Prom. I envy thee, seeing thou art free from blame Though thou shared'st all, and in my cause wast bold; Nay, let me be, nor trouble thou thyself; Thou wilt not, canst not soothe Him; very hard Is He of soothing. Look to it thyself, Lest thou some mischief meet with in the way.
Okean. It is thy wont thy neighbours' minds to school Far better than thine own. From deeds, not words, I draw my proof. But do not draw me back When I am hasting on, for lo, I deem, I deem that Zeus will grant this boon to me, That I should free thee from these woes of thine.
Prom. I thank thee much, yea, ne'er will cease to thank; For thou no whit of zeal dost lack; yet take, I pray, no trouble for me; all in vain Thy trouble, nothing helping, e'en if thou Should'st care to take the trouble. Nay, be still; Keep out of harm's way; sufferer though I be, I would not therefore wish to give my woes A wider range o'er others. No, not so: For lo! my mind is wearied with the grief Of that my kinsman Atlas, who doth stand In the far West, supporting on his shoulders The pillars of the earth and heaven, a burden His arms can ill but hold: I pity too The giant dweller of Kilikian caves, Dread portent, with his hundred hands, subdued By force, the mighty Typhon, who arose 'Gainst all the Gods, with sharp and dreadful jaws Hissing out slaughter, and from out his eyes There flashed the terrible brightness as of one Who would lay low the sovereignty of Zeus. But the unsleeping dart of Zeus came on him, Down-swooping thunderbolt that breathes out flame, Which from his lofty boastings startled him, For he i' the heart was struck, to ashes burnt, His strength all thunder-shattered; and he lies A helpless, powerless carcase, near the strait Of the great sea, fast pressed beneath the roots Of ancient Ætna, where on highest peak Hephæstos sits and smites his iron red-hot, From whence hereafter streams of fire shall burst, Devouring with fierce jaws the golden plains Of fruitful, fair Sikelia. Such the wrath That Typhon shall belch forth with bursts of storm, Hot, breathing fire, and unapproachable, Though burnt and charred by thunderbolts of Zeus. Not inexperienced art thou, nor dost need My teaching: save thyself, as thou know'st how; And I will drink my fortune to the dregs, Till from his wrath the mind of Zeus shall rest.
Okean. Know'st thou not this, Prometheus, even this, Of wrath's disease wise words the healers are?
Prom. Yea, could one soothe the troubled heart in time, Nor seek by force to tame the soul's proud flesh.
Okean. But in due forethought with bold daring blent, What mischief see'st thou lurking? Tell me this.
Prom. Toil bootless, and simplicity full fond.
Okean. Let me, I pray, that sickness suffer, since 'Tis best being wise to have not wisdom's show.
Prom. Nay, but this error shall be deemed as mine.
Okean. Thy word then clearly sends me home at once.
Prom. Yea, lest thy pity for me make a foe....
Okean. What! of that new king on his mighty throne?
Prom. Look to it, lest his heart be vexed with thee.
Okean. Thy fate, Prometheus, teaches me that lesson.
Prom. Away, withdraw! keep thou the mind thou hast.
Okean. Thou urgest me who am in act to haste; For this my bird four-footed flaps with wings The clear path of the æther; and full fain Would he bend knee in his own stall at home. [Exit.
Strophe I
Chor. I grieve, Prometheus, for thy dreary fate, Shedding from tender eyes The dew of plenteous tears; With streams, as when the watery south wind blows, My cheek is wet; For lo! these things are all unenviable, And Zeus, by his own laws his sway maintaining, Shows to the elder Gods A mood of haughtiness.
Antistrophe I
And all the country echoeth with the moan, And poureth many a tear For that magnific power Of ancient days far-seen that thou did'st share With those of one blood sprung; And all the mortal men who hold the plain Of holy Asia as their land of sojourn, They grieve in sympathy For thy woes lamentable.
Strophe II
And they, the maiden band who find their home On distant Colchian coasts, Fearless of fight, Or Skythian horde in earth's remotest clime, By far Mæotic lake;
Antistrophe II
*And warlike glory of Arabia's tribes, Who nigh to Caucasos In rock-fort dwell, An army fearful, with sharp-pointed spear Raging in war's array.
Strophe III
One other Titan only have I seen, One other of the Gods, Thus bound in woes of adamantine strength— Atlas, who ever groans Beneath the burden of a crushing might, The out-spread vault of heaven.
Antistrophe III
And lo! the ocean billows murmur loud In one accord with him; The sea-depths groan, and Hades' swarthy pit Re-echoeth the sound, And fountains of clear rivers, as they flow, Bewail his bitter griefs.
Prom. Think not it is through pride or stiff self-will That I am silent. But my heart is worn, Self-contemplating, as I see myself Thus outraged. Yet what other hand than mine Gave these young Gods in fulness all their gifts? But these I speak not of; for I should tell To you that know them. But those woes of men, List ye to them,—how they, before as babes, By me were roused to reason, taught to think; And this I say, not finding fault with men, But showing my good-will in all I gave. For first, though seeing, all in vain they saw, And hearing, heard not rightly. But, like forms Of phantom-dreams, throughout their life's whole length They muddled all at random; did not know Houses of brick that catch the sunlight's warmth, Nor yet the work of carpentry. They dwelt In hollowed holes, like swarms of tiny ants, In sunless depths of caverns; and they had No certain signs of winter, nor of spring Flower-laden, nor of summer with her fruits; But without counsel fared their whole life long, Until I showed the risings of the stars, And settings hard to recognise. And I Found Number for them, chief device of all, *Groupings of letters, Memory's handmaid that, And mother of the Muses. And I first Bound in the yoke wild steeds, submissive made Or to the collar or men's limbs, that so They might in man's place bear his greatest toils; And horses trained to love the rein I yoked To chariots, glory of wealth's pride of state; Nor was it any one but I that found Sea-crossing, canvas-wingèd cars of ships: Such rare designs inventing (wretched me!) For mortal men, I yet have no device By which to free myself from this my woe.
Chor. Foul shame thou sufferest: of thy sense bereaved, Thou errest greatly: and, like leech unskilled, Thou losest heart when smitten with disease, And know'st not how to find the remedies Wherewith to heal thine own soul's sicknesses.
Prom. Hearing what yet remains thou'lt wonder more, What arts and what resources I devised: And this the chief: if any one fell ill, There was no help for him, nor healing food, Nor unguent, nor yet potion; but for want Of drugs they wasted, till I showed to them The blendings of all mild medicaments, Wherewith they ward the attacks of sickness sore. I gave them many modes of prophecy; And I first taught them what dreams needs must prove True visions, and made known the ominous sounds Full hard to know; and tokens by the way, And flights of taloned birds I clearly marked,— Those on the right propitious to mankind, And those sinister,—and what form of life They each maintain, and what their enmities Each with the other, and their loves and friendships; And of the inward parts the plumpness smooth. And with what colour they the Gods would please, And the streaked comeliness of gall and liver: And with burnt limbs enwrapt in fat, and chine, I led men on to art full difficult: And I gave eyes to omens drawn from fire, Till then dim-visioned. So far then for this. And 'neath the earth the hidden boons for men, Bronze, iron, silver, gold, who else could say That he, ere I did, found them? None, I know, Unless he fain would babble idle words. In one short word, then, learn the truth condensed,— Allarts of mortals from Prometheus spring.
Chor. Nay, be not thou to men so over-kind, While thou thyself art in sore evil case; For I am sanguine that thou too, released From bonds, shall be as strong as Zeus himself.
Prom. It is not thus that Fate's decree is fixed; But I, long crushed with twice ten thousand woes And bitter pains, shall then escape my bonds; Art is far weaker than Necessity.
Chor. Who guides the helm, then, of Necessity?
Prom. Fates triple-formed, Errinyes unforgetting.
Chor. Is Zeus, then, weaker in his might than these?
Prom. Not even He can 'scape the thing decreed.
Chor. What is decreed for Zeus but still to reign?
Prom. Thou may'st no further learn, ask thou no more.
Chor. 'Tis doubtless some dread secret which thou hidest.
Prom. Of other theme make mention, for the time Is not yet come to utter this, but still It must be hidden to the uttermost; For by thus keeping it it is that I Escape my bondage foul, and these my pains.
Strophe I
Chor. Ah! ne'er may Zeus the Lord, Whose sovran sway rules all, His strength in conflict set Against my feeble will! Nor may I fail to serve The Gods with holy feast Of whole burnt-offerings, Where the stream ever flows That bears my father's name, The great Okeanos! Nor may I sin in speech! May this grace more and more Sink deep into my soul And never fade away!
Antistrophe I
Sweet is it in strong hope To spend long years of life, With bright and cheering joy Our heart's thoughts nourishing. I shudder, seeing thee Thus vexed and harassed sore. By twice ten thousand woes; For thou in pride of heart, Having no fear of Zeus, In thine own obstinacy, Dost show for mortal men, Prometheus, love o'ermuch.
Strophe II
See how that boon, dear friends, For thee is bootless found. Say, where is any help? What aid from mortals comes? Hast thou not seen this brief and powerless life, Fleeting as dreams, with which man's purblind race Is fast in fetters bound? Never shall counsels vain Of mortal men break through The harmony of Zeus.
Antistrophe II
This lesson have I learnt Beholding thy sad fate, Prometheus! Other strains Come back upon my mind, When I sang wedding hymns around thy bath, And at thy bridal bed, when thou did'st take In wedlock's holy bands One of the same sire born, Our own Hesione, Persuading her with gifts As wife to share thy couch.
Enter Io in form like a fair woman with a heifer's horns, followed by the Spectre of Argos
Io. What land is this? What people? Whom shall I Say that I see thus vexed With bit and curb of rock? For what offence dost thou Bear fatal punishment? Tell me to what far land I've wandered here in woe. Ah me! ah me! Again the gadfly stings me miserable. Spectre of Argos, thou, the earth-born one— Ah, keep him off, O Earth! I fear to look upon that herdsman dread, Him with ten thousand eyes: Ah lo! he cometh with his crafty look, Whom Earth refuses even dead to hold; But coming from beneath He hunts me miserable, And drives me famished o'er the sea-beach sand.
Strophe
And still his waxened reed-pipe soundeth clear A soft and slumberous strain; O heavens! O ye Gods! Whither do these long wanderings lead me on? For what offence, O son of Cronos, what, Hast thou thus bound me fast In these great miseries? Ah me! ah me! And why with terror of the gadfly's sting Dost thou thus vex me, frenzied in my soul? Burn me with fire, or bury me in earth, Or to wild sea-beasts give me as a prey: Nay, grudge me not, O King, An answer to my prayers: Enough my many-wandered wanderings Have exercised my soul, Nor have I power to learn How to avert the woe.
(To Prometheus.) Hear'st thou the voice of maiden crowned with horns?
Prom. Surely I heard the maid by gadfly driven, Daughter of Inachos, who warmed the heart Of Zeus with love, and now through Hera's hate Is tried, perforce, with wanderings over-long?
Antistrophe
Io. How is it that thou speak'st my father's name? Tell me, the suffering one, Who art thou, who, poor wretch, Who thus so truly nam'st me miserable, And tell'st the plague from Heaven, Which with its haunting stings Wears me to death? Ah woe! And I with famished and unseemly bounds Rush madly, driven by Hera's jealous craft. Ah, who of all that suffer, born to woe, Have trouble like the pain that I endure? But thou, make clear to me, What yet for me remains, What remedy, what healing for my pangs. Show me, if thou dost know: Speak out and tell to me, The maid by wanderings vexed.
Prom. I will say plainly all thou seek'st to know; Not in dark tangled riddles, but plain speech, As it is meet that friends to friends should speak; Thou see'st Prometheus who gave fire to men.
Io. O thou to men as benefactor known, Why, poor Prometheus, sufferest thou this pain?
Prom. I have but now mine own woes ceased to wail.
Io. Wilt thou not then bestow this boon on me?
Prom. Say what thou seek'st, for I will tell thee all.
Io. Tell me, who fettered thee in this ravine?
Prom. The counsel was of Zeus, the hand Hephæstos'.
Io. Of what offence dost thou the forfeit pay?
Prom. Thus much alone am I content to tell.
Io. Tell me, at least, besides, what end shall come To my drear wanderings; when the time shall be.
Prom. Not to know this is better than to know.
Io. Nay, hide not from me what I have to bear.
Prom. It is not that I grudge the boon to thee.
Io. Why then delayest thou to tell the whole?
Prom. Not from ill will, but loth to vex thy soul.
Io. Nay, care thou not beyond what pleases me.
Prom. If thou desire it I must speak. Hear then.
Chor. Not yet though; grant me share of pleasure too. Let us first ask the tale of her great woe, While she unfolds her life's consuming chances; Her future sufferings let her learn from thee.
Prom. 'Tis thy work, Io, to grant these their wish, On other grounds and as thy father's kin: For to bewail and moan one's evil chance, Here where one trusts to gain a pitying tear From those who hear,—this is not labour lost.
Io. I know not how to disobey your wish; So ye shall learn the whole that ye desire In speech full clear. And yet I blush to tell The storm that came from God, and brought the loss Of maiden face, what way it seized on me. For nightly visions coming evermore Into my virgin bower, sought to woo me With glozing words. “O virgin greatly blest, Why art thou still a virgin when thou might'st Attain to highest wedlock? For with dart Of passion for thee Zeus doth glow, and fain Would make thee his. And thou, O child, spurn not The bed of Zeus, but go to Lerna's field, Where feed thy father's flocks and herds, That so the eye of Zeus may find repose From this his craving.” With such visions I Was haunted every evening, till I dared To tell my father all these dreams of night, And he to Pytho and Dodona sent Full many to consult the Gods, that he, Might learn what deeds and words would please Heaven's lords. And they came bringing speech of oracles Shot with dark sayings, dim and hard to know. At last a clear word came to Inachos Charging him plainly, and commanding him To thrust me from my country and my home, To stray at large to utmost bounds of earth; And, should he gainsay, that the fiery bolt Of Zeus should come and sweep away his race. And he, by Loxias' oracles induced, Thrust me, against his will, against mine too, And drove me from my home; but spite of all, The curb of Zeus constrained him this to do. And then forthwith my face and mind were changed; And hornèd, as ye see me, stung to the quick By biting gadfly, I with maddened leap Rushed to Kerchneia's fair and limpid stream, And fount of Lerna. And a giant herdsman, Argos, full rough of temper, followed me, With many an eye beholding, on my track: And him a sudden and unlooked-for doom Deprived of life. And I, by gadfly stung, By scourge from Heaven am driven from land to land. What has been done thou hearest. And if thou Can'st tell what yet remains of woe, declare it; Nor in thy pity soothe me with false words; For hollow words, I deem, are worst of ills.
Chor. Away, away, let be: Ne'er thought I that such tales Would ever, ever come unto mine ears; Nor that such terrors, woes and outrages, Hard to look on, hard to bear, Would chill my soul with sharp goad, double-edged. Ah fate! Ah fate! I shudder, seeing Io's fortune strange.
Prom. Thou art too quick in groaning, full of fear: Wait thou a while until thou hear the rest.
Chor. Speak thou and tell. Unto the sick 'tis sweet Clearly to know what yet remains of pain.
Prom. Your former wish ye gained full easily. Your first desire was to learn of her The tale she tells of her own sufferings; Now therefore hear the woes that yet remain For this poor maid to bear at Hera's hands. And thou, O child of Inachos! take heed To these my words, that thou may'st hear the goal Of all thy wanderings. First then, turning hence Towards the sunrise, tread the untilled plains, And thou shalt reach the Skythian nomads, those Who on smooth-rolling waggons dwell aloft In wicker houses, with far-darting bows Duly equipped. Approach thou not to these, But trending round the coasts on which the surf Beats with loud murmurs, traverse thou that clime. On the left hand there dwell the Chalybes, Who work in iron. Of these do thou beware, For fierce are they and most inhospitable; And thou wilt reach the river fierce and strong, True to its name. This seek not thou to cross, For it is hard to ford, until thou come To Caucasos itself, of all high hills The highest, where a river pours its strength From the high peaks themselves. And thou must cross Those summits near the stars, must onward go Towards the south, where thou shalt find the host Of the Amâzons, hating men, whose home Shall one day be around Thermôdon's bank, By Themiskyra, where the ravenous jaws Of Salmydessos ope upon the sea, Treacherous to sailors, stepdame stern to ships. And they with right good-will shall be thy guides; And thou, hard by a broad pool's narrow gates, Wilt pass to the Kimmerian isthmus. Leaving This boldly, thou must cross Mæotic channel; And there shall be great fame 'mong mortal men Of this thy journey, and the Bosporos Shall take its name from thee. And Europe's plain Then quitting, thou shalt gain the Asian coast. Doth not the all-ruling monarch of the Gods Seem all ways cruel? For, although a God, He, seeking to embrace this mortal maid, Imposed these wanderings on her. Thou hast found, O maiden! bitter suitor for thy hand; For great as are the ills thou now hast heard, Know that as yet not e'en the prelude's known.
Io. Ah woe! woe! woe!
Prom. Again thou groan'st and criest. What wilt do When thou shall learn the evils yet to come?
Chor. What! are there troubles still to come for her?
Prom. Yea, stormy sea of woe most lamentable.
Io. What gain is it to live? Why cast I not Myself at once from this high precipice, And, dashed to earth, be free from all my woes? Far better were it once for all to die Than all one's days to suffer pain and grief.
Prom. My struggles then full hardly thou would'st bear, For whom there is no destiny of death; For that might bring a respite from my woes: But now there is no limit to my pangs Till Zeus be hurled out from his sovereignty.
Io. What! shall Zeus e'er be hurled from his high state?
Prom. Thou would'st rejoice, I trow, to see that fall.
Io. How should I not, when Zeus so foully wrongs me?
Prom. That this is so thou now may'st hear from me.
Io. Who then shall rob him of his sceptred sway?
Prom. Himself shall do it by his own rash plans.
Io. But how? Tell this, unless it bringeth harm.
Prom. He shall wed one for whom one day he'll grieve.
Io. Heaven-born or mortal? Tell, if tell thou may'st.
Prom. Why ask'st thou who? I may not tell thee that.
Io. Shall his bride hurl him from his throne of might?
Prom. Yea; she shall bear child mightier than his sire.
Io. Has he no way to turn aside that doom?
Prom. No, none; unless I from my bonds be loosed.
Io. Who then shall loose thee 'gainst the will of Zeus?
Prom. It must be one of thy posterity.
Io. What, shall a child of mine free thee from ills?
Prom. Yea, the third generation after ten.
Io. No more thine oracles are clear to me.
*Prom. Nay, seek not thou thine own drear fate to know.
Io. Do not, a boon presenting, then withdraw it.
Prom. Of two alternatives, I'll give thee choice.
Io. Tell me of what, then give me leave to choose.
Prom. I give it then. Choose, or that I should tell Thy woes to come, or who shall set me free.
Chor. Of these be willing one request to grant To her, and one to me; nor scorn my words: Tell her what yet of wanderings she must bear, And me who shall release thee. This I crave.
Prom. Since ye are eager, I will not refuse To utter fully all that ye desire. Thee, Io, first I'll tell thy wanderings wild, Thou, write it in the tablets of thy mind. When thou shalt cross the straits, of continents The boundary, take thou the onward path On to the fiery-hued and sun-tracked East. [And first of all, to frozen Northern blasts Thou'lt come, and there beware the rushing whirl, Lest it should come upon thee suddenly, And sweep thee onward with the cloud-rack wild;] Crossing the sea-surf till thou come at last Unto Kisthene's Gorgoneian plains, Where dwell the grey-haired virgin Phorkides, Three, swan-shaped, with one eye between them all And but one tooth; whom nor the sun beholds With radiant beams, nor yet the moon by night: And near them are their wingèd sisters three, The Gorgons, serpent-tressed, and hating men, Whom mortal wight may not behold and live. *Such is one ill I bid thee guard against; Now hear another monstrous sight: Beware The sharp-beaked hounds of Zeus that never bark, The Gryphons, and the one-eyed, mounted host Of Arimaspians, who around the stream That flows o'er gold, the ford of Pluto, dwell: Draw not thou nigh to them. But distant land Thou shalt approach, the swarthy tribes who dwell By the sun's fountain, Æthiopia's stream: By its banks wend thy way until thou come To that great fall where from the Bybline hills The Neilos pours its pure and holy flood; And it shall guide thee to Neilotic land, Three-angled, where, O Io, 'tis decreed For thee and for thy progeny to found A far-off colony. And if of this Aught seem to thee as stammering speech obscure, Ask yet again and learn it thoroughly: Far more of leisure have I than I like.
Chor. If thou hast aught to add, aught left untold Of her sore-wasting wanderings, speak it out; But if thou hast said all, then grant to us The boon we asked. Thou dost not, sure, forget it.
Prom. The whole course of her journeying she hath heard, And that she know she hath not heard in vain I will tell out what troubles she hath borne Before she came here, giving her sure proof Of these my words. The greater bulk of things I will pass o'er, and to the very goal Of all thy wanderings go. For when thou cam'st To the Molossian plains, and by the grove Of lofty-ridged Dodona, and the shrine Oracular of Zeus Thesprotian, And the strange portent of the talking oaks, By which full clearly, not in riddle dark, Thou wast addressed as noble spouse of Zeus,— If aught of pleasure such things give to thee,— Thence strung to frenzy, thou did'st rush along The sea-coast's path to Rhea's mighty gulf, In backward way from whence thou now art vexed, And for all time to come that reach of sea, Know well, from thee Ionian shall be called, To all men record of thy journeyings. These then are tokens to thee that my mind Sees somewhat more than that is manifest.
What follows (to the Chorus) I will speak to you and her In common, on the track of former words Returning once again. A city stands, Canôbos, at its country's furthest bound, Hard by the mouth and silt-bank of the Nile; There Zeus shall give thee back thy mind again, With hand that works no terror touching thee,— Touch only—and thou then shalt bear a child Of Zeus begotten, Epaphos, “Touch-born,” Swarthy of hue, whose lot shall be to reap The whole plain watered by the broad-streamed Neilos: And in the generation fifth from him A household numbering fifty shall return Against their will to Argos, in their flight From wedlock with their cousins. And they too, (Kites but a little space behind the doves) With eager hopes pursuing marriage rites Beyond pursuit shall come; and God shall grudge To give up their sweet bodies. And the land Pelasgian shall receive them, when by stroke Of woman's murderous hand these men shall lie Smitten to death by daring deed of night: For every bride shall take her husband's life, And dip in blood the sharp two-edgèd sword (So to my foes may Kypris show herself!) Yet one of that fair band shall love persuade Her husband not to slaughter, and her will Shall lose its edge; and she shall make her choice Rather as weak than murderous to be known. And she at Argos shall a royal seed Bring forth (long speech 'twould take to tell this clear) Famed for his arrows, who shall set me free From these my woes. Such was the oracle Mine ancient mother Themis, Titan-born, Gave to me; but the manner and the means,— That needs a lengthy tale to tell the whole, And thou can'st nothing gain by learning it.
Io. Eleleu! Oh, Eleleu! The throbbing pain inflames me, and the mood Of frenzy-smitten rage; The gadfly's pointed sting, Not forged with fire, attacks, And my heart beats against my breast with fear. Mine eyes whirl round and round: Out of my course I'm borne By the wild spirit of fierce agony, And cannot curb my lips, And turbid speech at random dashes on Upon the waves of dread calamity.
Strophe I
Chor. Wise, very wise was he Who first in thought conceived this maxim sage, And spread it with his speech,— That the best wedlock is with equals found, And that a craftsman, born to work with hands, Should not desire to wed Or with the soft luxurious heirs of wealth, Or with the race that boast their lineage high.
Antistrophe I
Oh ne'er, oh ne'er, dread Fates, May ye behold me as the bride of Zeus, The partner of his couch, Nor may I wed with any heaven-born spouse! For I shrink back, beholding Io's lot Of loveless maidenhood, Consumed and smitten low exceedingly By the wild wanderings from great Hera sent!
Strophe II
To me, when wedlock is on equal terms, It gives no cause to fear: Ne'er may the love of any of the Gods, The strong Gods, look on me With glance I cannot 'scape!
Antistrophe II
That fate is war that none can war against, Source of resourceless ill; Nor know I what might then become of me: I see not how to 'scape The counsel deep of Zeus.
Prom. Yea, of a truth shall Zeus, though stiff of will, Be brought full low. Such bed of wedlock now Is he preparing, one to cast him forth In darkness from his sovereignty and throne. And then the curse his father Cronos spake Shall have its dread completion, even that He uttered when he left his ancient throne; And from these troubles no one of the Gods But me can clearly show the way to 'scape. I know the time and manner: therefore now Let him sit fearless, in his peals on high Putting his trust, and shaking in his hands His darts fire-breathing. Nought shall they avail To hinder him from falling shamefully A fall intolerable. Such a combatant He arms against himself, a marvel dread, Who shall a fire discover mightier far Than the red levin, and a sound more dread Than roaring of the thunder, and shall shiver That plague sea-born that causeth earth to quake, The trident, weapon of Poseidon's strength: And stumbling on this evil, he shall learn How far apart a king's lot from a slave's.
Chor. What thou dost wish thou mutterest against Zeus.
Prom. Things that shall be, and things I wish, I speak.
Chor. And must we look for one to master Zeus?
Prom. Yea, troubles harder far than these are his.
Chor. Art not afraid to vent such words as these?
Prom. What can I fear whose fate is not to die?
Chor. But He may send on thee worse pain than this.
Prom. So let Him do: nought finds me unprepared.
Chor. Wisdom is theirs who Adrasteia worship.
Prom. Worship then, praise and flatter him that rules; My care for Zeus is nought, and less than nought: Let Him act, let Him rule this little while, E'en as He will; for long He shall not rule Over the Gods. But lo! I see at hand The courier of the Gods, the minister Of our new sovereign. Doubtless he has come To bring me tidings of some new device.
Enter Hermes
Herm. Thee do I speak to,—thee, the teacher wise, The bitterly o'er-bitter, who 'gainst Gods Hast sinned in giving gifts to short-lived men— I speak to thee, the filcher of bright fire. The Father bids thee say what marriage thou Dost vaunt, and who shall hurl Him from his might; And this too not in dark mysterious speech, But tell each point out clearly. Give me not, Prometheus, task of double journey. Zeus Thou see'st, is not with such words appeased.
Prom. Stately of utterance, full of haughtiness Thy speech, as fits a messenger of Gods. Ye yet are young in your new rule, and think To dwell in painless towers. Have I not Seen two great rulers driven forth from thence? And now the third, who reigneth, I shall see In basest, quickest fall. Seem I to thee To shrink and quail before these new-made Gods? Far, very far from that am I. But thou, Track once again the path by which thou camest; Thou shalt learn nought of what thou askest me.
Herm. It was by such self-will as this before That thou did'st bring these sufferings on thyself.
Prom. I for my part, be sure, would never change My evil state for that thy bondslave's lot.
Herm. To be the bondslave of this rock, I trow, Is better than to be Zeus' trusty herald!
Prom. So it is meet the insulter to insult.
Herm. Thou waxest proud, 'twould seem, of this thy doom.
Prom. Wax proud! God grant that I may see my foes Thus waxing proud, and thee among the rest!
Herm. Dost blame me then for thy calamities?
Prom. In one short sentence—all the Gods I hate, Who my good turns with evil turns repay.
Herm. Thy words prove thee with no slight madness plagued.
Prom. If to hate foes be madness, mad I am.
Herm. Not one could bear thee wert thou prosperous.
Prom. Ah me!
Herm. That word is all unknown to Zeus.
Prom. Time waxing old can many a lesson teach.
Herm. Yet thou at least hast not true wisdom learnt.
Prom. I had not else addressed a slave like thee.
Herm. Thou wilt say nought the Father asks, 'twould seem.
Prom. Fine debt I owe him, favour to repay.
Herm. Me as a boy thou scornest then, forsooth.
Prom. And art thou not a boy, and sillier far, If that thou thinkest to learn aught from me? There is no torture nor device by which Zeus can impel me to disclose these things Before these bonds that outrage me be loosed. Let then the blazing levin-flash be hurled; With white-winged snow-storm and with earth-born thunders Let Him disturb and trouble all that is; Nought of these things shall force me to declare Whose hand shall drive him from his sovereignty.
Herm. See if thou findest any help in this.
Prom. Long since all this I've seen, and formed my plans.
Herm. O fool, take heart, take heart at last in time, To form right thoughts for these thy present woes.
Prom. Like one who soothes a wave, thy speech in vain Vexes my soul. But deem not thou that I, Fearing the will of Zeus, shall e'er become As womanised in mind, or shall entreat Him whom I greatly loathe, with upturned hand, In woman's fashion, from these bonds of mine To set me free. Far, far am I from that.
Herm. It seems that I, saying much, shall speak in vain; For thou in nought by prayers art pacified, Or softened in thy heart, but like a colt Fresh harnessed, thou dost champ thy bit, and strive, And fight against the reins. Yet thou art stiff In weak device; for self-will, by itself, In one who is not wise, is less than nought. Look to it, if thou disobey my words, How great a storm and triple wave of ills, Not to be 'scaped, shall come on thee; for first, With thunder and the levin's blazing flash The Father this ravine of rock shall crush, And shall thy carcase hide, and stern embrace Of stony arms shall keep thee in thy place. And having traversed space of time full long, Thou shalt come back to light, and then his hound, The wingèd hound of Zeus, the ravening eagle, Shall greedily make banquet of thy flesh, Coming all day an uninvited guest, And glut himself upon thy liver dark. And of that anguish look not for the end, Before some God shall come to bear thy woes, And will to pass to Hades' sunless realm, And the dark cloudy depths of Tartaros. Wherefore take heed. No feigned boast is this, But spoken all too truly; for the lips Of Zeus know not to speak a lying speech, But will perform each single word. And thou, Search well, be wise, nor think that self-willed pride Shall ever better prove than counsel good.
Chor. To us doth Hermes seem to utter words Not out of season; for he bids thee quit Thy self-willed pride and seek for counsel good. Hearken thou to him. To the wise of soul It is foul shame to sin persistently.
Prom. To me who knew it all He hath this message borne; And that a foe from foes Should suffer is not strange. Therefore on me be hurled The sharp-edged wreath of fire; And let heaven's vault be stirred With thunder and the blasts Of fiercest winds; and Earth From its foundations strong, E'en to its deepest roots, Let storm-wind make to rock; And let the Ocean wave, With wild and foaming surge, Be heaped up to the paths Where move the stars of heaven; And to dark Tartaros Let Him my carcase hurl, With mighty blasts of force: Yet me He shall not slay.
Herm. Such words and thoughts from one Brain-stricken one may hear. What space divides his state From frenzy? What repose Hath he from maddened rage? But ye who pitying stand And share his bitter griefs, Quickly from hence depart, Lest the relentless roar Of thunder stun your soul.
Chor. With other words attempt To counsel and persuade, And I will hear: for now Thou hast this word thrust in That we may never bear. How dost thou bid me train My soul to baseness vile? With him I will endure Whatever is decreed. Traitors I've learnt to hate, Nor is there any plague That more than this I loathe.
Herm. Nay then, remember ye What now I say, nor blame Your fortune: never say That Zeus hath cast you down To evil not foreseen. Not so; ye cast yourselves: For now with open eyes, Not taken unawares, In Atè's endless net Ye shall entangled be By folly of your own. [A pause, and then flashes of lightning and peals of thunder Prom. Yea, now in very deed, No more in word alone, The earth shakes to and fro, And the loud thunder's voice Bellows hard by, and blaze The flashing levin-fires; And tempests whirl the dust, And gusts of all wild winds On one another leap, In wild conflicting blasts, And sky with sea is blent: Such is the storm from Zeus That comes as working fear, In terrors manifest. O Mother venerable! O Æther! rolling round The common light of all, See'st thou what wrongs I bear?