How incontestable the strength of Fate.
Yet in such strait silence to keep is hard,—
Hard not to keep;—for, bringing gifts to mortals,
Myself in these constraints hapless am yoked.
Stored within hollow wand fire's stealthy fount
I track, which to mankind in every art 110
Hath teacher proved, and mightiest resource.
Such forfeits I for such offences pay,—
Beneath the welkin nailed in manacles.
Hist! Hist! what sound,
What odour floats invisibly around,
Of God, or man, or intermediate kind?
Comes to this rocky bound,
One to behold my woes or seeking aught?
A god ye see in fetters, anguish-fraught;
The foe of Zeus, in hatred held of all
The deities who throng Zeus' palace-hall; 120
For that to men I bore too fond a mind.
Woe, woe! what rustling sound
Hard by, as if of birds, doth take mine ear?
Whistles the ether round
With the light whirr of pinions hovering near.
Whate'er approaches filleth me with fear.
[Enter Chorus of Ocean-Nymphs borne in a winged car.]
Chorus. Strophe I.
Fear not! a friendly troop we reach
On rival-speeding wing this cliff forlorn; 130
Our sire's consent wringing by suasive speech,
Me swift-escorting gales have hither borne.
