Part 11

PROMETHEUS. She now hath learned, unto its utmost end, Her pilgrimage; but yet, that she may know That ’tis no futile fable she hath heard, I will recount her history of toil Ere she came hither; let it stand for proof Of what I told, my forecast of the end. So, then—to sum in brief the weary tale— I turn me to thine earlier exile’s close. When to Molossia’s lowland thou hadst come, Nigh to Dodona’s cliff and ridge sublime, (Where is the shrine oracular and seat Of Zeus, Thesprotian styled, and that strange thing And marvel past belief, the prophet-oaks That syllable his speech), thou by their tongues, With clear acclaim and unequivocal, Wert thus saluted—_Hail, O bride of Zeus That art to be_—hast memory thereof? Thence, stung anew with frenzy, thou didst hie Along the shoreward track, to Rhea’s lap, The mighty main; then, stormily distraught, Backward again and eastward. To all time, Be well assured, that inlet of the sea All mortal men shall call Ionian, In memory that Io fared thereby. Take this for proof and witness that my mind Hath more in ken than ever sense hath shown. (_To the_ CHORUS) That which remains, to you and her alike I will relate, and, to my former words Reverting, add this final prophecy. (_To_ Io) There lieth, at the verge of land and sea, Where Nilus issues thro’ the silted sand, A town, Canopus called: and there at length Shall Zeus renew the reason in thy brain With the mere touch and contact of his hand Fraught now with fear no more: and thou shalt bear A child, dark Epaphus—his very name Memorial of Zeus’ touch that gave him life. And his shall be the foison and the fruit Of all the land enriched by spreading Nile. Thence the fifth generation of his seed Back unto Argos, yet unwillingly, Shall flee for refuge—fifty maidens they, Loathing a wedlock with their next in blood, More kin than kind, from their sire’s brother sprung. And on their track, astir with wild desire, Like falcons fierce closing on doves that flee, Shall speed the suitors, craving to achieve A prey forbidden, a reluctant bride. Yet power divine shall foil them, and forbid Possession of the maids, whom Argive land Shall hold protected, when unsleeping hate, Horror, and watchful ambush of the night, Have laid the suitors dead, by female hands. For every maid shall smite a man to death, Dyeing a dagger’s edges in his throat— Such bed of love befall mine enemies! Yet in one bride shall yearning conquer hate, Bidding her spare the bridegroom at her side, Blunting the keen edge of her set resolve. Thus of two scorns the former shall she choose, The name of coward, not of murderess. In Argos shall she bear, in after time, A royal offspring. Long it were to tell In clear succession all that thence shall be. Take this for sooth—in lineage from her A hero shall arise, an archer great, And he shall be my saviour from these woes. Such knowledge of the future Themis gave, The ancient Titaness, to me her son. But how, and by what skill, ’twere long to say, And no whit will the knowledge profit thee.

IO. O woe, O rending and convulsive pain, Frenzy and agony, again, again Searing my heart and brain! O dagger of the sting, unforged with fire Yet burning, burning ever! O my heart, Pulsing with horror, beating at my breast! O rolling maddened eyes! away, apart, Raving with anguish dire, I spring, by frenzy-fiends possest. O wild and whirling words, that sweep in gloom Down to dark waves of doom!

[_Exit IO._]

CHORUS. O well and sagely was it said— Yea, wise of heart was he who first Gave forth in speech the thought he nursed— _In thine own order see thou wed!_

Let not the humble heart aspire To the gross home of wealth and pride; Nor be it to a hearth allied That vaunts of many a noble sire.

O Fates, of awful empery! Never may I by Zeus be wooed— Never give o’er my maidenhood To any god that dwells on high.

A shudder to my soul is sent, Beholding Io’s doom forlorn— By Hera’s malice put to scorn, Roaming in mateless banishment.

From wedlock’s crown of fair desire I would not shrink—an idle fear! But may no god to me draw near With shunless might and glance of fire!

That were a strife wherein no chance Of conquest lies: from Zeus most high And his resolve, no subtlety Could win me my deliverance.

PROMETHEUS. And yet shall Zeus, for all his stubborn pride, Be brought to low estate! aha, he schemes Such wedlock as shall bring his doom on him, Flung from his kingship to oblivion’s lap! Ay, then the curse his father Cronos spake As he fell helpless from his agelong throne, Shall be fulfilled unto the utterance! No god but I can manifest to him A rescue from such ruin as impends— I know it, I, and how it may be foiled. Go to, then, let him sit and blindly trust His skyey rumblings, for security, And wave his levin with its blast of flame! All will avail him not, nor bar his fall Down to dishonour vile, intolerable So strong a wrestler is he moulding now To his own proper downfall—yea, a shape Portentous and unconquerably huge, Who truly shall reveal a flame more strong Than is the lightning, and a crash of sound More loud than thunder, and shall dash to nought Poseidon’s trident-spear, the ocean-bane That makes the firm earth quiver. Let Zeus strike Once on this rock, he speedily shall learn How far the fall from power to slavery!

CHORUS. Beware! thy wish doth challenge Zeus himself.

PROMETHEUS. I voice my wish and its fulfilment too.

CHORUS. What, dare we look for one to conquer Zeus?

PROMETHEUS. Ay—Zeus shall wear more painful bonds than mine

CHORUS. Darest thou speak such taunts and tremble not?

PROMETHEUS. Why should I fear, who am immortal too?

CHORUS. Yet he might doom thee to worse agony.

PROMETHEUS. Out on his dooming! I foreknow it all.

CHORUS. Yet do the wise revere Necessity.

PROMETHEUS. Ay, ay—do reverence, cringe and crouch to power Whene’er, where’er thou see it! But, for me, I reck of Zeus as something less than nought. Let him put forth his power, attest his sway, Howe’er he will—a momentary show, A little brief authority in heaven! Aha, I see out yonder one who comes, A bidden courier, truckling at Zeus’ nod, A lacquey in his new lord’s livery, Surely on some fantastic errand sped!

Enter HERMES.

HERMES. Thou, double-dyed in gall of bitterness, Trickster and sinner against gods, by giving The stolen fire to perishable men! Attend—the Sire supreme doth bid thee tell What is the wedlock which thou vauntest now, Whereby he falleth from supremacy? Speak forth the whole, make all thine utterance clear, Have done with words inscrutable, nor cause To me, Prometheus! any further toil Or twofold journeying. Go to—thou seest Zeus doth not soften at such words as thine!

PROMETHEUS. Pompous, in sooth, thy word, and swoln with pride, As doth befit the lacquey of thy lords! O ye young gods! how, in your youthful sway, Ye deem secure your citadels of sky, Beyond the reach of sorrow or of fall! Have I not seen two dynasties of gods Already flung therefrom? and soon shall see A third, that now in tyranny exults, Shamed, ruined, in an hour! What sayest thou? Crouch I and tremble at these stripling powers? Small homage unto such from me, or none! Betake thee hence, sweat back along thy road— Look for no answer from me, get thee gone!

HERMES. Think—it was such audacities of will That drove thee erst to anchorage in woe!

PROMETHEUS. Ay—but mark this: mine heritage of pain I would not barter for thy servitude.

HERMES. Better, forsooth, be bond-slave to a crag, Than true-born herald unto Zeus the Sire!

PROMETHEUS. Take thine own coin—taunts for a taunting slave!

HERMES. Proud art thou in thy circumstance, methinks!

PROMETHEUS. Proud? in such pride then be my foemen set, And I to see—and of such foes art thou!

HERMES. What, blam’st thou me too for thy sufferings?

PROMETHEUS. Mark a plain word—I loathe all gods that are, Who reaped my kindness and repay with wrong.

HERMES. I hear no little madness in thy words.

PROMETHEUS. Madness be mine, if scorn of foes be mad.

HERMES. Past bearing were thy pride, in happiness.

PROMETHEUS. Ah me!

HERMES. Zeus knoweth nought of sorrow’s cry!

PROMETHEUS. He shall! Time’s lapse bringeth all lessons home.

HERMES. To thee it brings not yet discretion’s curb.

PROMETHEUS. No—else I had not wrangled with a slave!

HERMES. Then thou concealest all that Zeus would learn?

PROMETHEUS. As though I owed him aught and should repay!

HERMES. Scornful thy word, as though I were a child—

PROMETHEUS. Child, ay—or whatsoe’er hath less of brain— Thou, deeming thou canst wring my secret out! No mangling torture, no, nor sleight of power There is, by which he shall compel my speech, Until these shaming bonds be loosed from me. So, let him fling his blazing levin-bolt! Let him with white and winged flakes of snow, And rumbling earthquakes, whelm and shake the world! For nought of this shall bend me to reveal The power ordained to hurl him from his throne.

HERMES. Bethink thee if such words can mend thy lot.

PROMETHEUS. All have I long foreseen, and all resolved.

HERMES. Perverse of will! constrain, constrain thy soul To think more wisely in the grasp of doom!

PROMETHEUS. Truce to vain words! as wisely wouldst thou strive To warn a swelling wave: imagine not That ever I before thy lord’s resolve Will shrink in womanish terror, and entreat, As with soft suppliance of female hands, The Power I scorn unto the utterance, To loose me from the chains that bind me here— A world’s division ’twixt that thought and me!

HERMES. So, I shall speak, whate’er I speak, in vain! No prayer can melt or soften thy resolve; But, as a colt new-harnessed champs the bit, Thou strivest and art restive to the rein. But all too feeble is the stratagem In which thou art so confident: for know That strong self-will is weak and less than nought In one more proud than wise. Bethink thee now— If these my words thou shouldest disregard— What storm, what might as of a great third wave Shall dash thy doom upon thee, past escape! First shall the Sire, with thunder and the flame Of lightning, rend the crags of this ravine, And in the shattered mass o’erwhelm thy form, Immured and morticed in a clasping rock. Thence, after age on age of durance done, Back to the daylight shall thou come, and there The eagle-hound of Zeus, red-ravening, fell With greed, shall tatter piecemeal all thy flesh To shreds and ragged vestiges of form— Yea, an unbidden guest, a day-long bane, That feeds, and feeds—yea, he shall gorge his fill On blackened fragments, from thy vitals gnawed. Look for no respite from that agony Until some other deity be found, Ready to bear for thee the brunt of doom, Choosing to pass into the lampless world Of Hades and the murky depths of hell. Hereat, advise thee! ’tis no feigned threat Whereof I warn thee, but an o’er-true tale. The lips of Zeus know nought of lying speech, But wreak in action all their words foretell. Therefore do thou look warily, and deem Prudence a better saviour than self-will.

CHORUS. Meseems that Hermes speaketh not amiss, Bidding thee leave thy wilfulness and seek The wary walking of a counselled mind. Give heed! to err through anger shames the wise.

PROMETHEUS. All, all I knew, whate’er his tongue In idle arrogance hath flung. ’Tis the world’s way, the common lot— Foe tortures foe and pities not. Therefore I challenge him to dash His bolt on me, his zigzag flash Of piercing, rending flame! Now be the welkin stirred amain With thunder-peal and hurricane, And let the wild winds now displace From its firm poise and rooted base The stubborn earthly frame! The raging sea with stormy surge Rise up and ravin and submerge Each high star-trodden way! Me let him lift and dash to gloom Of nether hell, in whirls of doom! Yet—do he what extremes he may— He cannot crush my life away!

HERMES. Such are the counsels, such the strain, Heard from wild lips and frenzied brain! In word or thought, how fails his fate Of madness wild and desperate? (_To the_ CHORUS) But ye, who stand compassionate Here at his side, depart in haste! Lest of his penalty ye taste, And shattered brain and reason feel The roaring, ruthless thunder-peal!

CHORUS. Out on thee! if thy heart be fain I should obey thee, change thy strain! Vile is thine hinted cowardice, And loathed of me thy base advice, Weakly to shrink from pain! Nay, at his side, whate’er befall, I will abide, endure it all! Among all things abhorr’d, accurst, I hold betrayers for the worst!

HERMES. Nay, ye are warned! remember well— Nor cry, when meshed in nets of hell, _Ah cruel fate, ah Zeus unkind— Thus, by a sentence undivined, To dash us to the realms below!_ It is no sudden, secret blow— Nay, ye achieve your proper woe— Warn’d and foreknowing shall ye go, Through your own folly trapped and ta’en, Into the net the Fates ordain— The vast, illimitable pain!

[_Thunder and lightning._]

PROMETHEUS. Hark! for no more in empty word, But in sheer sooth, the world is stirred! The massy earth doth heave and sway, And thro’ their dark and secret way The cavern’d thunders boom! See, how they gleam athwart the sky, The lightnings, through the gloom! And whirlwinds roll the dust on high, And right and left the storm-clouds leap To battle in the skyey deep, In wildest uproar unconfined, An universe of warring wind! And falling sky and heaving sea Are blent in one! on me, on me, Nearer and ever yet more near, Flaunting its pageantry of fear, Drives down in might its destined road The tempest of the wrath of God! O holy Earth, O mother mine! O Sky, that biddest speed along Thy vault the common Light divine,— Be witness of my wrong!

[_The rocks are rent with fire and earthquake, and fall, burying PROMETHEUS in the ruins._]