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PROMETHEUS BOUND.
Wherefrom beneath this anguish am I bent.
Grievous to suffer, piteous to behold;
And I who pitied man, am deem'd myself
Unmeet for pity; but am harp'd on thus
By Jove's fell hand, dishonor'd spectacle!
Cho. Oh, iron-hearted, formed from the rock,
Is he, Prometheus, who lamenteth not
Thy woes. I yearned, not to look on them,
And, having look'd, mine heart was anguish'd.
Pro.Yea;
To friends I am a piteous spectacle.
Cho. But didst thou not offend in more than this?
Pro. I smote with blindness man's prophetic sight,
Cho. What drug devising for their malady?
Pro. Blind hopes I sent among them.
Cho.Mighty help
Thereby thou didst afford to men.
Pro.Besides,
I yielded them the gift of fire—
