PROMETHEUS. Speak to the waves: thou speak'st to me as vainly! Deem not that I, to win a smile from Jove, Will spread a maiden smoothness o'er my soul, And importune the foe whom most I hate With womanish upliftings of the hands. Thou'lt see the deathless die first! {209} HERMES. I have said Much, but that much is vain: thy rigid nature To thaw with prayer is hopeless. A young colt That frets the bit, and fights against the reins, Art thou, fierce-champing with most impotent rage; For wilful strength that hath no wisdom in it Is less than nothing.[n50] But bethink thee well; If thou despise my words of timely warning, What wintry storm, what threefold surge of woes Whelms thee inevitable. Jove shall split These craggy cliffs with his cloud-bosomed bolt, And sink thee deep: the cold rock shall embrace thee; There thou shalt lie, till he shall please to bring thee Back to the day, to find new pains prepared: For he will send his Eagle-messenger, His winged hound,[f17] in crimson food delighting, To tear thy rags of flesh with bloody beak, And daily come an uninvited guest To banquet on thy gory liver. This, And worse expect, unless some god endure Vicarious thy tortures,[n51] and exchange His sunny ether for the rayless homes Of gloomy Hades, and deep Tartarus. Consider well. No empty boast I speak, But weighty words well weighed: the mouth of Jove Hath never known a lie, and speech with him Is prophet of its deed. Ponder and weigh, Close not thy stubborn ears to good advice. CHORUS. If we may speak, what Hermes says is wise, And fitting the occasion. He advises That stubborn will should yield to prudent counsel. Obey: thy wisdom should not league with folly. PROMETHEUS. Nothing new this preacher preaches: Seems it strange that foe should suffer From the vengeance of his foe? I am ready. Let him wreathe Curls of scorching flame around me; Let him fret the air with thunder, And the savage-blustering winds! Let the deep abysmal tempest Wrench the firm roots of the Earth! Let the sea upheave her billows, {210} Mingling the fierce rush of waters With the pathway of the stars! Let the harsh-winged hurricane sweep me In its whirls, and fling me down To black Tartarus: there to lie Bound in the iron folds of Fate. I will bear: but cannot die. HERMES. Whom the nymphs have struck with madness Raves as this loud blusterer raves; Seems he not a willing madman, Let him reap the fruits he sowed![n52] But ye maids, who share his sorrows, Not his crimes, with quick removal Hie from this devoted spot, Lest with idiocy the thunder Harshly blast your maundering wits. CHORUS. Wouldst thou with thy words persuade us, Use a more persuasive speech; Urge no reasons to convince me That an honest heart must hate. With his sorrows I will sorrow: I will hate a traitor's name; Earth has plagues, but none more noisome Than a faithless friend in need.