No More Learning

Thus, by device of mine, the murky depth
Of Tartarus enfoldeth Cronos old
And those who strove beside him. Such the aid
I gave the lord of heaven--my meed for which
He paid me thus, a penal recompense!
For 'tis the inward vice of tyranny,
To deem of friends as being secret foes.
Now, to your question--hear me clearly show
On what imputed fault he tortures me.
Scarce was he seated on his father's throne,
When he began his doles of privilege
Among the lesser gods, allotting power
In trim division; while of mortal men
Nothing he recked, nor of their misery
Nay, even willed to blast their race entire
To nothingness, and breed another brood;
And none but I was found to cross his will.
I dared it, I alone; I rescued men
From crushing ruin and th' abyss of hell--
Therefore am I constrained in chastisement
Grievous to bear and piteous to behold,--
Yea, firm to feel compassion for mankind,
Myself was held unworthy of the same--
Ay, beyond pity am I ranged and ruled
To sufferance--a sight that shames his sway!

CHORUS

A heart of steel, a mould of stone were he,
Who could complacently behold thy pains
I came not here as craving for this sight,
And, seeing it, I stand heart-wrung with pain.

PROMETHEUS

Yea truly, kindly eyes must pity me!

CHORUS

Say, didst thou push transgression further still?

PROMETHEUS

Ay, man thro' me ceased to foreknow his death.

CHORUS

What cure couldst thou discover for this curse?

PROMETHEUS

Blind hopes I sent to nestle in man's heart.

CHORUS

This was a goodly gift thou gavest them.

PROMETHEUS

Yet more I gave them, even the boon of fire.

CHORUS

What?
radiant fire, to things ephemeral?

PROMETHEUS

Yea--many an art too shall they learn thereby!

CHORUS

Then, upon imputation of such guilt,
Doth Zeus without surcease torment thee thus?
Is there no limit to thy course of pain?

PROMETHEUS

None, till his own will shall decree an end.

CHORUS

And how shall he decree it? say, what hope?
Seest thou not thy sin? yet of that sin
It irks me sore to speak, as thee to hear.
Nay, no more words hereof; bethink thee now,
From this ordeal how to find release.

PROMETHEUS

Easy it is, for one whose foot is set
Outside the slough of pain, to lesson well
With admonitions him who lies therein.
With perfect knowledge did I all I did,
I willed to sin, and sinned, I own it all--
I championed men, unto my proper pain.
Yet scarce I deemed that, in such cruel doom,
Withering upon this skyey precipice,
I should inherit lonely mountain crags,
Here, in a vast tin-neighboured solitude.
Yet list not to lament my present pains,
But, stepping from your cars unto the ground,
Listen, the while I tell the future fates
Now drawing near, until ye know the whole.
Grant ye, O grant my prayer, be pitiful
To one now racked with woe! the doom of pain
Wanders, but settles, soon or late, on all.