1
Wherefore thus brooding, Zeus? wherefore apart, And palely pacing, as Earth’s sages use? Let me thy counsel know, thy cares partake; And find thy comfort in a faithful fool.
1
Cronides, lord of lords, and all our sire, I clasp thy knees; grant thou what I require; A boon the lightning-eyed Tritonia asks: Speak, rend the veil thy secret thought that masks; Reveal what care thy mind within thee gnaws, Blanches thy cheek, and this deep moaning draws,
1
Speech hath no utterance of surpassing fear, Tragedy holds no misery or woe, But our divinest essence soon shall taste.
1
Alas, how dire a prelude to thy tale!
1
O brood maleficent, teemed from Earth’s dark womb! And thou, Prometheus, how hast thou wrought me woe!
1
Possess us; are not we thine own familiars?
1
With a whirr and a crash Let the levin-bolt dash—Ah, whither?
1
A truce to your passion, Zeus. We have not these good people’s gift for farce or recitation; we have not swallowed Euripides whole, and cannot play up to you.
2
Do you suppose we do not know how to account for your annoyance?
2
Thou knowst not; else thy wailings had been loud.
2
Don’t tell me; it’s a love affair; that’s what’s the matter with you. However, you won’t have any ‘wailings’ from me; I am too much hardened to neglect, I suppose you have discovered some new Danae or Semele or Europa whose charms are troubling you; and so you are meditating a transformation into a bull or satyr, or a descent through the roof into your beloved’s bosom as a shower of gold; all the symptoms—your groans and your tears and your white face—point to love and nothing else.
2
Happy ignorance, that sees not what perils now forbid love and such toys!
2
Is your name Zeus, or not? and, if so, what else can possibly annoy you but love?
3
Hera, our condition is most precarious; it is touchand-go, as they call it, whether we are still to enjoy reverence and honour from the earth, or be utterly neglected and become of no account.
