CHORAL HYMN. STROPHE. Wise was the man, most wise, Who in deep-thoughted mood conceived, and first {206} In pictured speech and pregnant phrase declared That marriage, if the Fates shall bless the bond, Must be of like with like; And that the daughters of an humble house Shun tempting union with the pomp of wealth And with the pride of birth. ANTISTROPHE. Never, O! never may Fate, All-powerful Fate which rules both gods and men, See me approaching the dread Thunderer's bed, And sharing marriage with the Olympian king, An humble Ocean-maid! May wretched Io, chased by Hera's wrath, Unhusbanded, unfriended, fill my sense With profitable fear. EPODE. Me may an equal bond Bind with my equal: never may the eye Of a celestial suitor fix the gaze Of forceful love on me. This were against all odds of war to war, And in such strife entangled I were lost; For how should humble maid resist the embrace, Against great Jove's decree? PROMETHEUS. Nay, but this Jove, though insolent now, shall soon Be humbled low. Such wedlock even now He blindly broods, as shall uptear his kingdom, And leave no trace behind; then shall the curse, Which Kronos heaped upon his ingrate son, When hurled unjustly from his hoary throne, Be all fulfilled. What remedy remains For that dread ruin I alone can tell; I only know. Then let him sit aloft, Rolling his thunder, his fire-breathing bolt Far-brandishing; his arts are vain; his fall, Unless my aid prevent, his shameful fall, Is doomed. Against himself to life he brings A champion fierce, a portent of grim war, Who shall invent a fiercer flame than lightning, And peals to outpeal the thunder, who shall shiver The trident mace that stirs the sea, and shakes The solid Earth, the spear of strong Poseidon. {207} Thus shall the tyrant learn how much to serve Is different from to sway. CHORUS. Thou dost but make Thy wishes father to thy slanderous phrase. PROMETHEUS. I both speak truth and wish the truth to be. CHORUS. But who can think that Jove shall find a master? PROMETHEUS. He shall be mastered! Ay, and worse endure. CHORUS. Dost thou not blench to cast such words about thee? PROMETHEUS. How should I fear, being a god and deathless? CHORUS. But he can scourge with something worse than death. PROMETHEUS. Even let him scourge! I'm armed for all conclusions. CHORUS. Yet they are wise who worship Adrastéa.[n49] PROMETHEUS. Worship, and pray; fawn on the powers that be; But Jove to me is less than very nothing. Let him command, and rule his little hour To please himself; long time he cannot sway. But lo! where comes the courier of this Jove, The obsequious minion of this upstart King, Doubtless the bearer of some weighty news. [_Enter_ HERMES.