Chor. But who indeed of gods is he

Who could so iron-hearted be

As to find pleasure in power's abuse,
Who would not rather, excepting Zeus,
In thy agonies sympathise?
But he in his wrath and unbending mind
For ever oppresses th' immortal kind,
Nor will he cease their wills to bind

Until he has glutted his heart of stone,

Or that some one by stratagem seize his throne

A not easily taken prize.

Prom. Myself in truth though in harsh chains
Outraged, shall he yet need who reigns
O'er gods, the new plot to declare
Which from his grasp will surely tear
Both throne and regal dignity.
But honeyed phrase will not bend me,
Nor cruel threat'nings crook my knee.
To him that secret I'll ne'er name
Till from these chains he'th set me free,
And made amends for this foul shame.

Chor. Thou indeed continuest bold,

Nor biting speech dost thou withhold,
And thy too free utterance scorn'st to bind
But piercing alarm assails my mind;

For I dread as I muse on thy fate
What end of these suff 'rings thou shalt find,
And when, whether early or late,

For Zeus hath a temper that cannot be reached,
And an iron heart that will not be beseeched.

Prom. That Zeus is harsh, I freely own,

Justice he keeps for himself alone;
But still a time will come when he
Well softened in his mind shall be,
When crush'd by fate like him ye see;
Composing then his ruthless rage,
He'll come (each willing) unto me
A league of friendship to engage.

Chor. Disclosing all thy tale, now tell to us

The crime for which Zeus having taken thee
Thus cruelly and basely thee entreats,

Instruct us if the story hurt thee not.

Hereupon follows the story of Prometheus, which, though partly interrupted by conversation with the chorus and by the arrival

of Okeanos, consists of a fairly consecutive narrative of his supposed relation, firstly, to his fellow-deities of Olympus; secondly, to the human race which he has befriended.

Even to speak of these things gives me pain,
While painful too is silence, and full grievous
When erst the gods began to cherish wrath
And 'gainst each other bitter feud upstirred,
Some wishing Chronos from his throne to hurl
That Zeus might thenceforth reign, while others sought
Conversely-Zeus might never rule the gods.

I thereupon the safest counsel urged

Upon the Titans-brood of heaven and earth-
Alas, without avail. For crafty schemes
Despising in their dauntless hearts, they deemed
That easily by force themselves would win.
But mother Themis more than once to me
(Called also Earth, of many names one form)
Disclosed the future, how it should befall
That neither by sheer strength nor brutal force
But sole by craft the victors should prevail.
These bodings, often urged by me in words,
They deemed unworthy of their least regard.
The best of thus remaining schemes then seemed
To take my mother and to side with Zeus,
The willing to the willing proff'ring aid,
And through my counsel is't that the abyss
Of murky Tart'ros ancient Chronos hides,
Together with his comrades. By this aid
The tyrant of the gods advantaged,
With these base tortures basely me requites,
For somehow to each tyranny pertains
This malady-suspicion of its friends.
But as regards your question, for what cause
He tortures me, this will I now explain.
No sooner mounted on his father's throne,
Than to the deities he proffer'd gifts,
To each his own, and organised his rule.
But heed of wretched mortals took he none,
Nay, rather wished t' exterminate the race.
This none of gods opposéd save myself,

Of pity's meed unworthy-ruthlessly
Am I thus crush'd. To Zeus ignoble sight.
Chor. Of iron heart and hewn of stone is he

Who in thy sorrows doth not sympathise.

I could have wished the sight I ne'er had seen,
And, having seen, I bear an anguished heart.
Prom. Truly to friends am I a piteous sight.

Chor. But did'st thou ne'er advance beyond those gifts?
Prom. Men's doom from mortal foresight I kept hid.
Chor. Applying what pharmacy to this disease?
Prom. I caused to dwell within them sightless hopes.
Chor. A great boon this, forsooth, thou gav'st to men.
Prom. Besides all these, I gifted them with fire.
Chor. Have then the day-lived beings the burning flame?
Prom. And by it many arts they well shall learn.
Chor. For crimes like these then Zeus inflicts on thee
His torture, nor the least abatement grants.
But doth no term of suff'ring meet thy view?

Prom. None other but the seeming good to him.
Chor. How can this seem? what hope of such event?
See'st not how thou hast err'd? and this to urge
Yields me no pleasure, and to thee gives pain.
But truce to talk, seek freedom from thy woe.

Prom. 'Tis easy for the man whose foot is plac'd
Outside calamities, to urge advice

On him who struggles in their toils. But all
These things I knew, it cannot be denied
I err'd most willingly. On men a boon
Bestowing, I wrought sorrows for myself.
But still I ne'er gave heed that in such pains
I needs must fret away on lofty rocks,
Chancing upon this bare and lonely crag.

A new personage now appears on the stage. Okeanos, the father of the chorus, arrives on his winged steed and joins his daughters, both in their sympathy with the suffering Titan and in their efforts to induce him to submit to the indomitable will of Zeus. It may be parenthetically remarked that all the interlocutors of the Titan seem intended by the dramatist to exemplify (1) his sublime self-confidence in the justice of his cause; (2) his invincible detestation of the cruelty, injustice and unscuprulous conduct of Zeus. The function of Okeanos and his

daughters is not unlike that of Job's friends when they endeavour to produce an impossible and unveracious conviction of transgression. There is, however, a peculiar inconsequence in the admonitions of the Titan's friends, in that they agree with him as to the injustice of those decrees to which they nevertheless exhort him to submit.

Oke. Of a long journey have I reached the bound,
And thee for whom I travers'd it have found;
My winged steed, by will and not by bit,
Well guiding. And be well assured of it,
Prometheus, that I sorrow with thy woes.
Such sympathy the ties of kin impose;
And kin apart,

None else like thee so largely shares my heart;
Take thou these words as true, not vain
Tongue-kindness, which I most disdain.
Come tell me then how thou must aided be,
For never shalt thou say than Okeanos
Thou hast a friend more faithful unto thee.

Prom. Ha! what then means this? Thou, too, art here,
A gazer on my woes. How hast thou dared,
Quitting thy co-named stream and ocean caves,
Rock-roofed and self-exhumed, hither to come
To th' iron-bearing land? Is it that thou
My suff'rings mayst not only contemplate
But sorrow o'er? Behold a sight; see me,
The friend of Zeus, who in his regal seat
Contributed to stablish him, and now

In such great tortures I am by him crush'd.

Oke. I see, Prometheus, and I fain to thee,

Though thou art subtle, would best counsel urge:
Know then thyself and fit thee to new ways,

For a new ruler reigns among the gods.

But if thus sharp and keen-edged words thou hurl'st,
Mayhap will Zeus, though seated far aloft,

In such wise hear thee that this present grief
Will seem to thee a childish mock of woe.
Rather, O wretched! cease these passions fierce,
And from these tortures seek deliverance.
Stale saws, mayhap, I seem to thee to vent,
But such disasters happen as the fruit
Of a too froward tongue. For not as yet
Art humble nor resign'st thyself to ills,
Nay, to thy present evils would'st add more.

Prom.

But never, taking me at least as guide,
Wilt thou fling out thy leg against the pricks,
Seeing that a monarch harsh unbending rules.
-And now, indeed, I go, and will attempt
To free thee if I can from these thy pains,
And be thou quiet nor persist in railing.
What, know'st not surely, being so very wise,
That punishment awaits a forward tongue?

give thee joy that blameless still thou art,
Though sharing in and daring with my plans;
But now let be, nor care thyself for me,
Thou'lt ne'er persuade Zeus, he's inflexible,
Rather take heed, lest ill befall thy way.

Oke. Much better fitted art thou to advise

Thy neighbour than thyself, if one might guess,
Not from thy speech, but fate. Yet think not thou
To thwart my plan. Assured I feel that Zeus
Will grant this boon, and free thee from thy woes.
Prom. The offer's kindly meant, I'll ne'er deny,

For in respect of zeal thou lackest nought,
Yet trouble not thyself, for still in vain
And profitless to me thou labourest,
Whate'er thy labour be. Rather be still,
Keep out of harm; for though unfortunate
Myself, I would not wish on that account
To hurt as many others as I could:
By no means, since my brother Atlas' griefs
Oppress my heart, who in Hesperian climes
Supports the pillar of the heaven and earth,
Poising the load his hands refuse to grasp
Upon his shoulders. Pitying, too, I saw
The earth-born inmate of Kilikian caves,
That monster dire, the raging hundred-headed
Tuphon borne down by might, who 'gainst the gods
Arose, death hissing from his horrid jaws,
While from his eyes flash'd forth a hideous glare,
As if the throne of Zeus he'd fain uproot

By force, but on him came Zeus's sleepless dart,
The thunderbolt, flame-breathing, downward fell,
Which striking scar'd him from his lofty boasts,
For, smitten to life's source, he was burnt up,
And lightning-blasted in his strength; and now
A helpless and wide sprawling corse he lies
Hard by a narrow strait, and pressed down
'Neath Etna's roots; while on its topmost heights
Hephaistos seated forges red-hot bolts,