And still his waxened reed-pipe soundeth clear A soft and slumberous strain; O heavens! O ye Gods! 590 Whither do these long wanderings lead me on? For what offence, O son of Cronos, what, Hast thou thus bound me fast In these great miseries? Ah me! ah me! And why with terror of the gadfly's sting Dost thou thus vex me, frenzied in my soul? Burn me with fire, or bury me in earth, Or to wild sea-beasts give me as a prey: Nay, grudge me not, O King, An answer to my prayers: 600 Enough my many-wandered wanderings Have exercised my soul, Nor have I power to learn How to avert the woe. (_To Prometheus_.) Hear'st thou the voice of maiden crowned with horns? _Prom._ Surely I heard the maid by gadfly driven, Daughter of Inachos, who warmed the heart Of Zeus with love, and now through Hera's hate Is tried, perforce, with wanderings over-long? ANTISTROPHE _Io._ How is it that thou speak'st my father's name? Tell me, the suffering one, 610 Who art thou, who, poor wretch, Who thus so truly nam'st me miserable, And tell'st the plague from Heaven, Which with its haunting stings Wears me to death? Ah woe! And I with famished and unseemly bounds Rush madly, driven by Hera's jealous craft. Ah, who of all that suffer, born to woe, 620 Have trouble like the pain that I endure? But thou, make clear to me, What yet for me remains, What remedy, what healing for my pangs. Show me, if thou dost know: Speak out and tell to me, The maid by wanderings vexed. _Prom._ I will say plainly all thou seek'st to know; Not in dark tangled riddles, but plain speech, As it is meet that friends to friends should speak; Thou see'st Prometheus who gave fire to men. 630 _Io._ O thou to men as benefactor known, Why, poor Prometheus, sufferest thou this pain? _Prom._ I have but now mine own woes ceased to wail. _Io._ Wilt thou not then bestow this boon on me? _Prom._ Say what thou seek'st, for I will tell thee all. _Io._ Tell me, who fettered thee in this ravine? _Prom._ The counsel was of Zeus, the hand Hephæstos'. _Io._ Of what offence dost thou the forfeit pay? _Prom._ Thus much alone am I content to tell. _Io._ Tell me, at least, besides, what end shall come 640 To my drear wanderings; when the time shall be. _Prom._ Not to know this is better than to know. _Io._ Nay, hide not from me what I have to bear. _Prom._ It is not that I grudge the boon to thee. _Io._ Why then delayest thou to tell the whole? _Prom._ Not from ill will, but loth to vex thy soul. _Io._ Nay, care thou not beyond what pleases me. _Prom._ If thou desire it I must speak. Hear then.