26
PROMETHEUS BOUND.
A tear-distilling stream doth break,
With humid fount to dew my cheek;
Because Saturnius, cruel still,
Ruling by his proper will.
Doth the royal sceptre bear,
Subversive of the gods who were.
Antistrophe 1.
Deeply sighing, doth lament
Thy brethren's chastisement and thine,
Unworthy of an ancient line.
And mortals all, who find abode
On holy Asia's neighb'ring sod,
Sorrow with thee, who art lying
In a sorrow meet for sighing:—
