PROMETHEUS. Deep in death-receiving Hades Had he bound me, had he whelmed me In Tartarean pit, unfathomed, Fettered with unyielding bonds! Then nor god nor man had feasted Eyes of triumph on my wrongs, Nor I, thus swung in middle ether,[f8] Moved the laughter of my foes. STROPHE II. CHORUS. Which of the gods hath heart so hard To mock thy woes? Who will withhold The fellow-feeling and the tear, Save only Jove. But he doth nurse Strong wrath within his stubborn breast, And holds all Heaven in awe. Nor will he cease till his hot rage is glutted, Or some new venture shakes his stable throne. PROMETHEUS. By my Titan soul, I swear it! Though with harsh chains now he mocks me, Even now the hour is ripening, When this haughty lord of Heaven Shall embrace my knees, beseeching Me to unveil the new-forged counsels {188} That shall hurl him from his throne.[n15] But no honey-tongued persuasion, No smooth words of artful charming, No stout threats shall loose my tongue, Till he loose these bonds of insult, And himself make just atonement For injustice done to me. ANTISTROPHE II. CHORUS. Thou art a bold man, and defiest The keenest pangs to force thy will. With a most unreined tongue thou speakest; But me--sharp fear hath pierced my heart. I fear for thee: and of thy woes The distant, doubtful end I see not. O, 'tis hard, most hard to reach The heart of Jove![n16] prayer beats his ear in vain. PROMETHEUS. Harsh is Jove, I know--he frameth Justice for himself; but soon, When the destined arm o'ertakes him, He shall tremble as a child. He shall smooth his bristling anger, Courting friendship shunned before, More importunate to unbind me Than impatient I of bonds. CHORUS. Speak now, and let us know the whole offence Jove charges thee withal; for which he seized, And with dishonor and dire insult loads thee. Unfold the tale; unless, perhaps, such sorrow Irks thee to tell.