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Like to a bad physician fallen sick, 491 (482)
Despair and know no drug to heal thyself.
Prometheus.
You'll marvel more when you have heard the rest;
What arts and what resources I contrived:
The greatest this—if any one fell ill 495 (486)
There was no help, neither of solid drugs
Of chrisms nor of draughts, but for the lack
Of medicine they wasted till I showed them
How to mix soothing remedies by which
They ward off all diseases. Many ways 500 (491)
Of divinations I arranged for them,
Interpreted what dreams must needs receive
Their due fulfilment, made them comprehend
The difficult sound omens, and of things
Met on a journey. And I carefully 505 (496)
Defined the flights of birds of prey—which kind
Showed good, which harm—what several ways of life,
What hatreds one to another, and what loves,
And gatherings together are their wont.
The smoothness of the liver I explained, 510 (501)
What colour it should be to please the gods,
