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the story of fortune following fast upon me—learn its cours-
ings to the utmost end. Comply with me, consent, share
the tillage of grief with him hard-worn. Sorrow wanders
abroad impassive and pounces on each in his turn.
Chorus: You appeal to no unwilling ears, Prometheus, my
winging foot foregoes this swift-spun chariot. I leave the
pathway of birds and breezing and follow the turn of this rag-
ged earth, for I long to listen to your words.

(As the chorus alights, Oceanus enters from the opposite side
mounted upon a strange bird. His brusqueness contrasts with
his daughters’ delicate and penetrating sympathy.)

Oceanus: I finish a tedious travel, meeting with you, Pro-
metheus; I steered this sharp-feathered bird without bridle,
my wish spurred him here. Know, I suffer for your fortune.
Perhaps kinship forces it. Yet forgetting ties of race, there is
no one I should furnish with a richer share of fate. Know me
sincere, for I am not one to veer frivolous words off my tongue.
Come, tell me, what must I do to help you? You will never
boast a more steadfast friend than Oceanus.

Prometheus: Ha! What is this I see? And you! Have
you stalked up here to stare at me? How did you find forti-
tude to leave the river named for you and the rock-roofed
caves it undercut to roam this iron-mothered land? Are
you bent sight-seeking for griefs so you may blend them
with your own? Witness. me, the friend of Zeus, who once
propped up his tyranny, exhibited to winds, chained prone
to this grim and solitary stone.

Oceanus: [ see, Prometheus, and would advise you for the
best and wisest course. Though you be skitled in subtlety,
begin to understand yourself and fit your methods with new
manners. The gods have joined a new-made tyrant. If you