Volume I Part 20 (1/2)

Who art thou, victim, thou who dost acclaim Mine anguish in true words on the wide air, And callest too by name the curse that came From Here unaware, To waste and pierce me with its maddening goad?

Ah--ah--I leap With the pang of the hungry--I bound on the road-- I am driven by my doom-- I am overcome By the wrath of an enemy strong and deep!

Are any of those who have tasted pain, Alas! as wretched as I?

Now tell me plain, doth aught remain For my soul to endure beneath the sky?

Is there any help to be holpen by?

If knowledge be in thee, let it be said!

Cry aloud--cry To the wandering, woful maid!

_Prometheus._ Whatever thou wouldst learn I will declare,-- No riddle upon my lips, but such straight words As friends should use to each other when they talk.

Thou seest Prometheus, who gave mortals fire.

_Io._ O common Help of all men, known of all, O miserable Prometheus,--for what cause Dost thou endure thus?

_Prometheus._ I have done with wail For my own griefs, but lately.

_Io._ Wilt thou not Vouchsafe the boon to me?

_Prometheus._ Say what thou wilt, For I vouchsafe all.

_Io._ Speak then, and reveal Who shut thee in this chasm.

_Prometheus._ The will of Zeus, The hand of his Hephaestus.

_Io._ And what crime Dost expiate so?

_Prometheus._ Enough for thee I have told In so much only.

_Io._ Nay, but show besides The limit of my wandering, and the time Which yet is lacking to fulfil my grief.

_Prometheus._ Why, not to know were better than to know For such as thou.

_Io._ Beseech thee, blind me not To that which I must suffer.

_Prometheus._ If I do, The reason is not that I grudge a boon.

_Io._ What reason, then, prevents thy speaking out?

_Prometheus._ No grudging; but a fear to break thine heart.

_Io._ Less care for me, I pray thee. Certainty I count for advantage.

_Prometheus._ Thou wilt have it so, And therefore I must speak. Now hear--

_Chorus._ Not yet.

Give half the guerdon my way. Let us learn First, what the curse is that befell the maid,-- Her own voice telling her own wasting woes: The sequence of that anguish shall await The teaching of thy lips.

_Prometheus._ It doth behove That thou, Maid Io, shouldst vouchsafe to these The grace they pray,--the more, because they are called Thy father's sisters: since to open out And mourn out grief where it is possible To draw a tear from the audience, is a work That pays its own price well.

_Io._ I cannot choose But trust you, nymphs, and tell you all ye ask, In clear words--though I sob amid my speech In speaking of the storm-curse sent from Zeus, And of my beauty, from what height it took Its swoop on me, poor wretch! left thus deformed And monstrous to your eyes. For evermore Around my virgin-chamber, wandering went The nightly visions which entreated me With syllabled smooth sweetness.--”Blessed maid, Why lengthen out thy maiden hours when fate Permits the n.o.blest spousal in the world?

When Zeus burns with the arrow of thy love And fain would touch thy beauty?--Maiden, thou Despise not Zeus! depart to Lerne's mead That's green around thy father's flocks and stalls, Until the pa.s.sion of the heavenly Eye Be quenched in sight.” Such dreams did all night long Constrain me--me, unhappy!--till I dared To tell my father how they trod the dark With visionary steps. Whereat he sent His frequent heralds to the Pythian fane, And also to Dodona, and inquired How best, by act or speech, to please the G.o.ds.

The same returning brought back oracles Of doubtful sense, indefinite response, Dark to interpret; but at last there came To Inachus an answer that was clear, Thrown straight as any bolt, and spoken out-- This--”he should drive me from my home and land And bid me wander to the extreme verge Of all the earth--or, if he willed it not, Should have a thunder with a fiery eye Leap straight from Zeus to burn up all his race To the last root of it.” By which Loxian word Subdued, he drove me forth and shut me out, He loth, me loth,--but Zeus's violent bit Compelled him to the deed: when instantly My body and soul were changed and distraught, And, horned as ye see, and spurred along By the fanged insect, with a maniac leap I rushed on to Cenchrea's limpid stream And Lerne's fountain-water. There, the earth-born, The herdsman Argus, most immitigable Of wrath, did find me out, and track me out With countless eyes set staring at my steps: And though an unexpected sudden doom Drew him from life, I, curse-tormented still, Am driven from land to land before the scourge The G.o.ds hold o'er me. So thou hast heard the past, And if a bitter future thou canst tell, Speak on. I charge thee, do not flatter me Through pity, with false words; for, in my mind, Deceiving works more shame than torturing doth.