From Europe's plain to Asia's continent. How think ye, nymphs? the king of gods appears Impartial in ferocious deeds? Behold! The god desirous of this mortal's love Hath cursed her with these wanderings. Ah, fair child, Thou hast met a bitter groom for bridal troth! For all thou yet hast heard can only prove The incompleted prelude of thy doom. _Io._ Ah, ah! _Prometheus._ Is 't thy turn, now, to shriek and moan? How wilt thou, when thou hast hearkened what remains? _Chorus._ Besides the grief thou hast told can aught remain? _Prometheus._ A sea--of foredoomed evil worked to storm. _Io._ What boots my life, then? why not cast myself Down headlong from this miserable rock, That, dashed against the flats, I may redeem My soul from sorrow? Better once to die Than day by day to suffer. _Prometheus._ Verily, It would be hard for thee to bear my woe For whom it is appointed not to die. Death frees from woe: but I before me see In all my far prevision not a bound To all I suffer, ere that Zeus shall fall From being a king. _Io._ And can it ever be That Zeus shall fall from empire? _Prometheus._ _Thou_, methinks, Wouldst take some joy to see it. _Io._ Could I choose? _I_ who endure such pangs now, by that god! _Prometheus._ Learn from me, therefore, that the event shall be. _Io._ By whom shall his imperial sceptred hand Be emptied so? _Prometheus._ Himself shall spoil himself, Through his idiotic counsels. _Io._ How? declare: Unless the word bring evil. _Prometheus._ He shall wed; And in the marriage-bond be joined to grief. _Io._ A heavenly bride--or human? Speak it out If it be utterable. _Prometheus._ Why should I say which? It ought not to be uttered, verily. _Io._ Then It is his wife shall tear him from his throne? _Prometheus._ It is his wife shall bear a son to him, More mighty than the father. _Io._ From this doom Hath he no refuge? _Prometheus._ None: or ere that I, Loosed from these fetters-- _Io._ Yea--but who shall loose While Zeus is adverse? _Prometheus._ One who is born of thee: It is ordained so. _Io._ What is this thou sayest? A son of mine shall liberate thee from woe? _Prometheus._ After ten generations, count three more, And find him in the third. _Io._ The oracle Remains obscure. _Prometheus._ And search it not, to learn Thine own griefs from it. _Io._ Point me not to a good, To leave me straight bereaved. _Prometheus._ I am prepared To grant thee one of two things. _Io._ But which two? Set them before me; grant me power to choose.