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And knewst thou not the puny helpless kind,
Idle as dreams, 560 (559)
Which cramps that people to the light left blind?
No, never can what Zeus has predesigned
Be crossed by mortal's schemes.
Antistrophe I.
And this, Prometheus, have we surely known
Seeing thy mournful fate. And now the tone 565 (566)
Of a far other song seems to us sped
Than the bridal strain
We sang around the bath, around the bed,
When Hesione our sister with thee wed,
Whom thy rich gifts did gain. 570 (571)
Io.
To what land am I come? To what people? And how
Shall I name him I see made fast to these rocks,
Left bare to the storms? To atone what sin
Dost thou perish thus?—Oh say to what spot
Of earth I have wandered forlorn. 575 (576)
Alas! Woe! Woe!
Me miserable does the gadfly once more sting.
Lo! the ghost of earth-born Argus!
