And ne’er shalt thou say that Oceanus failed

As a friend to thee faithful and stedfast.

PROMETHEUS

Ah, what is this? Hast thou too come to gaze

Upon my labours? How didst thou dare forsake

The stream that bears thy name and vaulted caverns

Of self-grown rock, to journey to this land,

The mother of iron? Is it thy wish to see

My state and share the burden of my sorrows?

Then look on him who was the friend of Zeus

And fellow-founder of his tyranny,

In what fell agonies he bends my limbs!

OCEANUS

I see, Prometheus, and I would commend

To thee, so quick of wit, the wisest course.

Prepare to know thyself and change thy ways

Anew, for new the tyrant of the gods.

If with such barbed and bitter words thou criest

Defiance, Zeus, though far from hence enthroned

On high, might hear thee, and thy present host

Of ills would seem no more than child’s play then.

Nay, most unhappy, lay aside thy rage

And from misfortune seek deliverance.

Antique, perchance, may seem my counsel to thee:

Yet such, Prometheus, is the penalty

Paid by the arrogance of a lofty tongue.

Unhumbled yet, thou dost not bow to trouble

But to these ills thou hast would others add.

No longer, if thou wouldst be schooled by me,

Wilt thou thus kick against the pricks, aware

That our harsh monarch owes account to none.

And I will now depart and do my best

To find release from thy adversities.

But hold thy peace and curb thy turbulent speech;

Or, over-subtle, hast thou not wit to see

A price is set upon an idle tongue?

PROMETHEUS

I count thee happy to be free from blame,

Though in my perils all participant.

And now have done, take no concern for me.

Thou canst not move him — he is immovable, —

And watch that no misfortune waylay thee.

OCEANUS

Ay, thou wast born to teach thy neighbours wisdom

But not thyself—thy works are proof of that.

Yet, since I have the will, oppose me not.

For I declare that Zeus will grant to me

This favour and release thee from thy pains.

PROMETHEUS

So far I praise thee, and praise thee ever shall —

Thy willingness lacks nothing. Even so

Spare thyself trouble, for labour spent on me

Will yield no profit, despite thy will to spend it.

So, hold thy peace, beyond the reach of harm.

For I, though ill my fortune, would not seek

Relief in the distress of others too.

Indeed not so; for even now I mourn

My brother Atlas, who in the far west

Bears on his shoulders in no tender clasp

The massive pillar of the Earth and Heaven.

And the earth-born inmate of Cilicia’s caves

I saw likewise and pitied, monster dread,

The hundred-headed Typho, as he fell

Subdued, a god who stood against the gods,

Hissing forth terror from his horrid jaws

And from his eyes darting disastrous fire

In challenge to the tyranny of Zeus,