The Complaint Of Prometheus

US (alone)      O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,        And River-wells, and laughter innumerous        Of yon Sea-waves!

Earth, mother of us all,      And all-viewing cyclic Sun,

I cry on you,--      Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!        Behold, with throe on throe,        How, wasted by this woe,      I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!        Behold, how fast around me      The new King of the happy ones sublime    Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!    Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's      I cover with one groan.

And where is found me        A limit to these sorrows?      And yet what word do I say?

I have foreknown      Clearly all things that should be; nothing done      Comes sudden to my soul--and I must bear      What is ordained with patience, being aware      Necessity doth front the universe      With an invincible gesture.

Yet this curse      Which strikes me now,

I find it hard to brave      In silence or in speech.

Because I gave      Honor to mortals,

I have yoked my soul      To this compelling fate.

Because I stole      The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went      Over the ferrule's brim, and manward sent      Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment,      That sin I expiate in this agony,      Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky.        Ah, ah me! what a sound,    What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen    Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,    Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,    To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain--    Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!        The god Zeus hateth sore,        And his gods hate again,    As many as tread on his glorified floor,    Because I loved mortals too much evermore.    Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,        As of birds flying near!        And the air undersings        The light stroke of their wings--    And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.