The shade which is our form invests us round; Else we are shapeless as our mother Night. PROMETHEUS. I laugh your power, and his who sent you here, To lowest scorn. Pour forth the cup of pain. FIRST FURY. Thou thinkest we will rend thee bone from bone, And nerve from nerve, working like fire within? PROMETHEUS. Pain is my element, as hate is thine. Ye rend me now: I care not. SECOND FURY. Dost imagine We will but laugh into thy lidless eyes? PROMETHEUS. I weigh not what ye do, but what ye suffer, Being evil. Cruel was the power which called You, or aught else so wretched, into light. THIRD FURY. Thou think'st we will live through thee, one by one, Like animal life, and though we can obscure not The soul which burns within, that we will dwell Beside it, like a vain loud multitude ་ ། Vexing the self-content of wisest men: That we will be dread thought beneath thy brain, And foul desire round thine astonished heart, PROMETHEUS. Why, ye are thus now; Yet am I king over myself, and rule The torturing and conflicting throngs within, As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous. CHORUS OF FURIES. From the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth, Where the night has its grave and the morning its birth, Come, come, come! O ye who shake hills with the scream of your mirth, When cities sink howling in ruin; and ye Leave the bed, low, cold, and red, Fire is left for future burning: When ye stir it, soon returning: To the maniac dreamer-cruel Come, come, come ! We are steaming up from Hell's wide gate IONE. Sister, I hear the thunder of new wings. PANTHEA. 'These solid mountains quiver with the sound Even as the tremulous air: their shadows make The space within my plumes more black than night. FIRST FURY. Your call was as a winged car, SECOND FURY. From wide cities, famine-wasted; THIRD FURY. Groans half heard, and blood untasted; FOURTH FURY. Kingly conclaves, stern and cold, Where blood with gold is bought and sold FIFTH FURY. From the furnace, white and hot, In which A FURY. Speak not; whisper not: I know all that ye would tell, But to speak might break the spell He yet defies the deepest power of Hell. FURY. Tear the veil ! ANOTHR FURY. It is torn. CHORUS. The pale stars of the morn Shine on a misery, dire to be borne. Dost thou faint, mighty Titan? We laugh thee to scorn. Dost thou boast the clear knowledge thou waken'dst for man? Then was kindled within him a thirst which out ran Those perishing waters; a thirst of fierce fever, Hope, love, doubt, desire, which consume him for ever. One came forth of gentle worth, His words outlived him, like swift poison Wailing for the faith he kindled: To a glow-worm's lamp have dwindled: The survivors round the embers Gather in dread. Joy, joy, joy! Past ages crowd on thee, but each one remembers; And the future is dark, and the present is spread Like a pillow of thorns for thy slumberless head. SEMICHORUS I. Drops of bloody agony flow From his white and quivering brow. Grant a little respite now : Springs like day from desolation; To Truth its state is dedicate, And Freedom leads it forth, her mate; |