PROMETHEUS BOUND
I am driven athwart by the hurricane
Of frenzy; my tongue refuseth rein:
Thick issue of words doth battle in vain
With the blinding, shattering surges.
[Io goes out, raving.]
CHORUS
Him wise I call, him wise attest,
Whose bosom first with this was great,
And whose tongue publish'd it: "They best
Do wed, that match their own estate. 890
Let not the toil-engrainèd hands
Lust to embrace in spousal bands
Them that above the general crowd
High breed exalts, or wealth makes delicate and proud."
May never day for me appear,
Never for me, O Queens of Doom,
To come the bed of God anear,
Or get of them on high for groom!
69
