PROMETHEUS BOUND
Of a flame two-edgèd! let all the air
Be lash'd with levin, with passion grieved
Of winds exasperate, earth up-heaved
From her roots by the inly-prison'd flaw!
Let him mingle a welter of bitter brine,
The froth of the seas, with the paths divine
Of the heavenly stars! down quick let him fling me 1050
Where the face of the day is blotted and blacken'd,
By a might that masters, and twirls unslacken'd!
To Death can he nowise bring me.
HERMES
Nay, here are heats of a mind amiss,
And speeches verily heard sick-brain'd!
Is there any madness more than this?
Or a temper further in frenzy strain'd?
Ye then, do you as many as grieve
In his sorrow's fellowship, rise and leave
This place, with the speed that ye may forth-faring, 1060
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