PROMETHEUS

Glad wouldst thou be, I think, to see that day.

IO

And who would not, whom Zeus made suffer so?

PROMETHEUS

Then be assured that it shall come to pass.

IO

But who shall strip his tyrant sceptre from him?

PROMETHEUS

Himself by his own empty-headed counsels.

IO

But how? Declare, if ’tis no harm to tell.

PROMETHEUS

A marriage shall he make which he will rue.

IO

Divine or mortal? If ’tis lawful, speak!

PROMETHEUS

What matter? ’Tis not lawful to say more.

IO

A bride of his shall cast him from his throne?

PROMETHEUS

A son shall she bear stronger than his sire.

IO

And from this destiny has he no escape?

PROMETHEUS

None, save myself, freed from captivity.

IO

Who shall deliver thee in despite of Zeus?

PROMETHEUS

One of thine own descendants shall it be.

IO

What, shall a son of mine deliver thee?

PROMETHEUS

The tenth generation and three besides.

IO

Hard to interpret is that prophecy.

PROMETHEUS

And of thine own pains seek to learn no more.

IO

Do not first promise, then withhold, thy gift.

PROMETHEUS

Two gifts I offer: one or other choose.

IO

What are they? Speak, that I may make my choice.

PROMETHEUS

Resolve which thou wouldst hear expounded thee —

Thy future trials, or my deliverer.

CHORUS

Nay, grant to her one favour, and accord

To us the other. Do not grudge the tale:

To her, her future path make manifest,

Declare to us thine own deliverer.

PROMETHEUS

Since you desire it, I will not refuse

To manifest all that you seek to know.

First, Io, learn thy tearful wanderings

And write them on the tables of thy heart.

Having passed the stream that parts two continents,

Take the bright paths trod by the rising sun

Beside the roar of ocean, until thou come

To the plains Gorgonian of Cisthene, where

Dwell the ancient hags, daughters of Phorcys three,

Swanlike in shape, sharing one common eye,

One-toothed, on whom the sun hath never shed

His radiant beam nor the night-wandering moon;

And near them their three sisters, clothed in wings,

The serpent-cinctured Gorgons, foes of man,

On whom no mortal e’er shall look and live.

Such is the prelude to thy pilgrimage.

And now to another fearful sight give ear:

Beware the savage, sharp-mouthed hounds of Zeus,

The griffins, and the one-eyed thievish host

Of Arimaspian horsemen, who beside

The banks of Pluto’s golden river dwell.

Approach not these, but at the ends of earth

Seek out the swarthy tribesmen who abide

At the Sun’s fount by the brook of Ethiop,

Along whose verges journey till thou come

To the cataract where from the Bybline Hills

Are spilt the holy waters of the Nile,

Leading thee on to that three-cornered land,

Nilotis, where thou, Io, and thy sons

Shall found at last a far-off colony.

If there is aught in this of dark import,

Repeat your questions, till the tale is clear.

I have much leisure, more than I desire.