The Wail of Prometheus Bound

From the Greek by Elizabeth Barrett Browning From “Prometheus” O HOLY Æther, and swift-winged Winds, And River-wells, and laughter innumerous Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all, And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,— Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!         Behold, with throe on throe,         How, wasted by this woe, I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!         Behold, how fast around me The new King of the happy ones sublime Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me! Woe, woe! to-day’s woe and the coming morrow’s   I cover with one groan. And where is found me         A limit to these sorrows?   And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown   Clearly all things that should be; nothing done   Comes sudden to my soul—and I must bear   What is ordained with patience, being aware   Necessity doth front the universe   With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse   Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave   In silence or in speech. Because I gave   Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul   To this compelling fate. Because I stole   The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went   Over the ferrule’s brim, and manward sent   Art’s mighty means and perfect rudiment,   That sin I expiate in this agony,   Hung here in fetters, ’neath the blanching sky.         Ah, ah me! what a sound, What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between, Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound, To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain— Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!         The god Zeus hateth sore,         And his gods hate again, As many as tread on his glorified floor, Because I loved mortals too much evermore. Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,         As of birds flying near!         And the air undersings         The light stroke of their wings— And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.