PROMETHEUS.
199
PROMETHEUS.
SONNET.
Thou brave old Titan, that in chains didst lie,
Bound to the rock on the Caucasian hill,
Who by sublime endurance didst defy
Imperial Jove and all his shapes of ill;
As I invoke thy spirit here to-day,—
From the old Pagan world thou speak’st to me,
I hear thy voice across Time’s sounding sea,
Bid me thus bear and conquer.—I obey.
Henceforth, like thee, I will endure and wait
On life’s bleak summit bound, without dismay.
Then in thine iron car roll on thy way,
Thou stern, relentless power that men call Fate,
Loose then thy bolts thou dark and threat’ning sky—
Thou vulture at my heart, feed to satiety!
Bound to the rock on the Caucasian hill,
Who by sublime endurance didst defy
Imperial Jove and all his shapes of ill;
As I invoke thy spirit here to-day,—
From the old Pagan world thou speak’st to me,
I hear thy voice across Time’s sounding sea,
Bid me thus bear and conquer.—I obey.
Henceforth, like thee, I will endure and wait
On life’s bleak summit bound, without dismay.
Then in thine iron car roll on thy way,
Thou stern, relentless power that men call Fate,
Loose then thy bolts thou dark and threat’ning sky—
Thou vulture at my heart, feed to satiety!
