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And when the lobe near the gall is rightly mottled.
And, roasting fat-cased thighs and the long chine,
I led mankind to a mysterious lore.
And I unveiled to them the signs of flames, 515 (506)
Which formerly they saw as through a film.
So much for these things: but the precious gifts
To man concealed beneath the earth, the brass
The iron and the silver and the gold,
Who can declare he found them till I found? 520 (511)
None truly not inclined to babble lies.
But hear all summed up in a little word—
Their every art had mortals from Prometheus.
Chorus.
Now do thou not serve mortals past the mark
And take no thought for thine own evil case: 525 (517)
For we are of good hope that thou shalt yet,
Freed from these bonds, be no less strong than Zeus.
Prometheus.
Nor yet is it laid on completing Fate
To bring this so to pass, but by much woes
And pangs bowed down thus shall I scape these chains.
For art is very weak before The Must. 531 (522)
