With shrill sweet voice, he rears his head and hands Aye unfatiguable: Heaven’s counsellor So doom’d his lot. But with enduring chains [202]He bound Prometheus, train’d in shifting wiles, With galling shackles fixing him aloft Midway a column. Down he sent from high His eagle hovering on expanded wings: She gorged his liver: still beneath her beak Immortal; for it sprang with life, and grew In the night-season, and repair’d the waste Of what the wide-wing’d bird devour’d by day. But her the fair Alcmena’s hardy son Slew; from Prometheus drove the cruel plague, And freed him from his pangs. Olympian Jove, Who reigns on high, consented to the deed; That thence yet higher glory might arise, O’er peopled earth, to Hercules of Thebes: And in his honour, Jove now made to cease The wrath he felt before; ’gainst him who strove In wisdom e’en with Saturn’s mighty son. Of yore when strife arose for sacrifice, Twixt gods and men, within Mecona’s walls, Prometheus wilful [203]parted a huge ox And set before the god: so tempting him With purpose to deceive: for here he laid The unctuous substance, entrails, and the flesh Close cover’d with the belly of the hide: There the white bones he craftily disposed; And with the marrowy substance wrapt them round. Then spake the father of the gods and men: “Son of Iäpetus!” thou famous god! How partial, friend! are thy divided shares!” So in rebuke spoke Jupiter: whose thoughts Of wisdom perish not. Then answer’d him Wily Prometheus, with a laugh suppress’d, And well remembering his insidious fraud: “Hail glorious Jove! thou mightiest of the gods Who shall endure for ever: choose the one Which now the spirit in thy breast persuades.” He spoke, revolving treachery. Jove, whose thoughts Of wisdom perish never, knew the guile, Not unforewarn’d: and straight his soul devised Evil to mortals, that should surely be: He raised the snowy portion with his hands, And felt his spirit wroth: yea, anger seiz’d His spirit, when he saw the whitening bones O’erlaid with cunning artifice: and thence, E’en from that hour, the dwellers upon earth Consume the whitening bones, when climbs the smoke Wreath’d from their flaming altars. Then again Cloud-gatherer Jove with indignation spake: “Son of Iäpetus! of all most wise! Still, friend! rememberest thou thy arts of guile?” So spake, incensed, the god, whose wisdom yields To no decay: and from that very hour, Remembering still the treachery, he denied The strength of indefatigable fire To all the dwellers upon earth. But him Benevolent Prometheus did beguile: For in a hollow reed he stole from high The far-seen splendour of unwearied flame. Then deep resentment stung the Thunderer’s soul; And his heart chafed in anger, when he saw