PROMETHEUS BOUND
CHORUS
Stout-hearted thou, not giving way
For any sharpness of assay;
But too much is thy tongue uncurb'd. 180
My soul is pierced within me, is disturb'd,
Scanning what yet in store
For such Fate hath, what shore
Beyond this wreckful pain
Thy keel at last shall gain.
Heart of the Son of Kronos orison
Finds not, nor hath persuasion power thereon.
PROMETHEUS
I know it, that Zeus is harsh, restrains
To his own self justice;[1] yet this remains
Most sure,—at the last,
In the battering day, he shall be right meek:
His wrath shall sink, as a storm that is past; 190
I open mine arms, and he cometh fast,
To proffer me hand and cheek.
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