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agony? The gods misnamed you “Prometheus,” they called

your genius *“forethought”; much forethought will you need
now to wriggle out this labyrinth. (exit Power and Force)
Prometheus: O sacred sky and swift-winged breeze, you
river founts and countless laughing of swollen seas; my moth-
er earth, all-mothering one, and you, omniscient eye of
sun, behold me, a god born, by gods undone.

~ Behold, in what shameful rods I am bound; I must wrestle

with numberless ages of time; for Zeus, new-lording the gods,
the wily, found me a rig of ruin—he made a wretched bond-
age mine. Ah, ah, I mourn for my present woes and woes to
come; whitheram I borne, when, doom, will you deem my toil-
ing done?

Yet why do I speak when I already know everything that
will ever be? No new ill surprises me. Fate has no effect-
ive foe, and I, thus burdened, must gently bear the
weight of my allotted share. Yet to be silent or not to be:
silent about my fallen fortune’s shame cannot reserve:
my deed of fame. I bore a gift to men defiled —fetters of har-
ness yoke it brought. Ah, miserable god I am! I sought
out nimble fire for men and stored the ravished source in
hollow reed. I brought the seed of all art, I carried a flame:
men’s mind could clasp—a sword whetting great deeds. [
was borne down hence to this under-sky for my offense, and.
riveted to earth for my action, I pay asordid satisfaction.
Ah, yet, what echo, what winging scent comes hither ventur-
ing—is it mortal or immortai, or of each one bient? Has some
one sought earth’s craggy terminal to stare upon my pains,
or with what intent? You see me a dishonored manacled
god, the foe of Zeus and hated by all the gods resorting unto
his hall; for the fire of heavenly wrath I trod, esteeming man-