Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/58

Atlas,—who with eterne surpassing might.
Doth groan beneath the freight
Of the supernal pole.
For him the tides of ocean wailing roll,
And earthly caves emit a deep'ning sigh;
And hell's obscure recesses sound reply;
And fountains, whence the limpid rivers flow,
Murmur a pitying woe.
Pro. Think not that indolence or arrogance
Maketh me silent thus; I gnaw mine heart
With thought, contemplating mine outraged form.
Yet to these newly-crowned gods, what hand,
Saving this hand, gave out the gifts of empire?
Which things, I silent pass; for I would speak
To you who own their knowledge. Dather hear
What crimes I perpetrated touching man;
How from his idiot state I made him wise
And mind-possessive. Blaming him in nought,
But making clear my gifts' beneficence,