PROMETHEUS. Her tale is told, But for the more assurance of my words The path of toils through which her feet had struggled Before she reached this coast I will declare; Lightly, and with no cumbrous comment, touching Thy latest travel only, wandering Io. When thou hadst trod the Molossian plains, and reached Steep-ridged Dodona, where Thesprotian Jove In council sits, and from the articulate oaks (Strange wonder!) speaks prophetic, there thine ears This salutation with no doubtful phrase Received: "_All hail, great spouse of mighty Jove_ _That shall be!_"--say, was it a pleasing sound? Thence by the sting of jealous Hera goaded, Along the coast of Rhea's bosomed sea[f14] Thy steps were driven: thence with mazy course Tossed hither;[n47] gaining, if a gain, this solace, That future times, by famous Io's name, Shall know that sea.[f15] These things may be a sign That I, beyond the outward show, can pierce To the heart of truth. What yet remains, I tell To thee and them in common, tracing back My speech to whence it came. There is a city In extreme Egypt, where with outspread loam Nile breasts the sea, its name Canopus. There Jove to thy sober sense shall bring thee back, Soft with no fearful touch, and thou shalt bear A son, dark Epaphus, whose name shall tell The wonder of his birth;[n48] he shall possess {205} What fruitful fields fat Nile broad-streaming laves. Four generations then shall pass; the fifth In fifty daughters[f16] glorying shall return To ancient Argos, fatal wedlock shunning With fathers' brothers' sons; these, their wild hearts Fooled with blind lust, as hawks the gentle doves, Shall track the fugitive virgins; but a god Shall disappoint their chase, and the fair prey Save from their lawless touch; the Apian soil Shall welcome them to death, and woman's hands Shall dare the deed amid the nuptial watches. Each bride shall rob her lord of life, and dip The sharp steel in his throat. Such nuptial bliss May all my enemies know! Only one maid Of all the fifty, with a blunted will, Shall own the charm of love, and spare her mate, And of two adverse reputations choose The coward, not the murderess. She shall be The mother of a royal race in Argos. To tell what follows, with minute remark, Were irksome; but from this same root shall spring A hero, strong in the archer's craft, whose hand Shall free me from these bonds. Such oracle spake Titanian Themis, my time-honoured mother, But how and why were a long tale to tell, Nor being told would boot thine ear to hear it. IO. Ah me! pain! pain! ah me! Again the fevered spasm hath seized me, And the stroke of madness smites! Again that fiery sting torments me, And my heart doth knock my ribs! My aching eyes in dizziness roll, And my helmless feet are driven Whither gusty frenzy blows! And my tongue with thick words struggling Like a sinking swimmer plashes 'Gainst the whelming waves of woe! [_Exit_.