CHORUS

If aught remain, passed over or to come,

Of her unhappy wanderings, speak on.

If all hath been made manifest, vouchsafe

My share in that which thou hast promised us.

PROMETHEUS

The end of all her travels she hath heard;

But, lest she should misdoubt my prophecy,

What she endured before her coming hither

I will relate, to prove my story true.

The bulk of that long tale I will pass over

And to thy latter wanderings proceed.

When thou didst walk the wide Molossian plains,

Even to the lofty ridges of Dodona, where

Thesprotian Zeus holds his prophetic seat

And stands the marvel of the Speaking Oaks,

By whom in plain and unambiguous words

Thou wast proclaimed the glorious Bride Elect

Of Zeus — Ah, is thy memory touched by that? —

Then, gadfly-hunted down the long sea-shore,

Thou didst press on to the Gulf of Rhea, whence

Upon thy tracks the tempest beat thee back;

Wherefore, in time to come, that hollow sea,

Believe me, shall be called Ionian

By all mankind in memory of thy passage.

Accept this testimony of my understanding,

That it perceives more than the eye beholds.

And now the rest will I reveal to all,

My steps retracing to my former tale.

A city stands, Canobus, at the extreme

Of Egypt, on the silted mouth of Nile;

And there shall Zeus, thy wits restoring with

A touch, lay on thee his unfearful hand;

And, of that touch begot, thereafter named,

Thou shalt bear swarthy Epaphus, who shall till

The wide lands watered by the spacious Nile.

His fifty children, fifth in descent from him,

Against their will to Argos shall return,

A band of maidens, fleeing from the bed

Of fifty cousins, who with hearts astir,

Hawks after doves, in hot pursuit shall follow,

Unrighteous huntsmen, coveting a match

Unlawful, to be cut off by jealous heaven.

For Pelasgia shall welcome them with deeds

Of blood by woman dared in the dark of night:

Each bride shall rob each bridegroom of his breath,

Steeping in slaughter the dagger’s double blade.

Thus may the Cyprian greet my enemies!

One daughter only, softened by desire,

Her hand shall hold and blunt the edge of her

Resolve, electing rather to endure

The taunt of coward than of murderess;

And she shall bear a race of kings in Argos.

Too long it were to trace the tale in full,

But from her seed at last shall spring a brave

And glorious Archer, who from bondage shall

Deliver me!

Such is the oracle

My age-old Mother, Titan Themis, spake.

So shall it be, but how, ’t would take me long

To tell, and thee to hear would profit not.

IO

Eleleu! eleleu!

Yet again is my mind set aflame by the scourge

Of the maddening goad, and the arrow unforged

Driveth me onward;

And my heart is a-plunging with fear in my breast,

And my eyes to and fro wildly are glancing,

And distracted I veer far out of my course