Part 8

_Voices of Fallen Angels from the Earth._ Do we prevail? Or are we lost? Hath not the ill we did Been heretofore our good? Is it not ill that one, all sinless, should Hang heavy with all curses on a cross? Nathless, that cry! With huddled faces hid Within the empty graves which men did scoop To hold more damnèd dead, we shudder through What shall exalt us or undo, Our triumph, or our loss.

_Voice from the Cross._ IT IS FINISHED.

_Zerah._ Hark, again! Like a victor, speaks the slain.

_Angel Voices._ Finished be the trembling vain!

_Ador._ Upward, like a well-loved son, Looketh he, the orphaned one.

_Angel Voices._ Finished is the mystic pain.

_Voices of Fallen Angels._ His deathly forehead at the word, Gleameth like a seraph sword.

_Angel Voices._ Finished is the demon reign.

_Ador._ His breath, as living God, createth, His breath, as dying man, completeth.

_Angel Voices._ Finished work his hands sustain.

_The Earth._ In mine ancient sepulchres Where my kings and prophets freeze, Adam dead four thousand years, Unwakened by the universe's Everlasting moan, Aye his ghastly silence mocking-- Unwakened by his children's knocking At his old sepulchral stone, "Adam, Adam, all this curse is Thine and on us yet!"-- Unwakened by the ceaseless tears Wherewith they made his cerement wet, "Adam, must thy curse remain?"-- Starts with sudden life and hears Through the slow dripping of the caverned caves,--

_Angel Voices._ Finished is his bane.

_Voice from the Cross._ FATHER! MY SPIRIT TO THINE HANDS IS GIVEN.

_Ador._ Hear the wailing winds that be By wings of unclean spirits made! They, in that last look, surveyed The love they lost in losing heaven, And passionately flee With a desolate cry that cleaves The natural storms--though _they_ are lifting God's strong cedar-roots like leaves, And the earthquake and the thunder, Neither keeping either under, Roar and hurtle through the glooms-- And a few pale stars are drifting Past the dark, to disappear, What time, from the splitting tombs Gleamingly the dead arise, Viewing with their death-calmed eyes The elemental strategies, To witness, victory is the Lord's. Hear the wail o' the spirits! hear!

_Zerah._ I hear alone the memory of his words.

EPILOGUE.

I.

My song is done. My voice that long hath faltered shall be still. The mystic darkness drops from Calvary's hill Into the common light of this day's sun.

II.

I see no more thy cross, O holy Slain! I hear no more the horror and the coil Of the great world's turmoil Feeling thy countenance _too still_,--nor yell Of demons sweeping past it to their prison. The skies that turned to darkness with thy pain Make now a summer's day; And on my changèd ear that sabbath bell Records how CHRIST IS RISEN.

III.

And I--ah! what am I To counterfeit, with faculty earth-darkened, Seraphic brows of light And seraph language never used nor hearkened? Ah me! what word that seraphs say, could come From mouth so used to sighs, so soon to lie Sighless, because then breathless, in the tomb?

IV.

Bright ministers of God and grace--of grace Because of God! whether ye bow adown In your own heaven, before the living face Of him who died and deathless wears the crown, Or whether at this hour ye haply are Anear, around me, hiding in the night Of this permitted ignorance your light, This feebleness to spare,-- Forgive me, that mine earthly heart should dare Shape images of unincarnate spirits And lay upon their burning lips a thought Cold with the weeping which mine earth inherits. And though ye find in such hoarse music, wrought To copy yours, a cadence all the while Of sin and sorrow--only pitying smile! Ye know to pity, well.

V.

_I_ too may haply smile another day At the far recollection of this lay, When God may call me in your midst to dwell, To hear your most sweet music's miracle And see your wondrous faces. May it be! For his remembered sake, the Slain on rood, Who rolled his earthly garment red in blood (Treading the wine-press) that the weak, like me, Before his heavenly throne should walk in white.

FOOTNOTE:

[D] "His angels he charged with folly."--_Job_ iv. 18.

PROMETHEUS BOUND

FROM THE GREEK OF ÆSCHYLUS

_PERSONS._

PROMETHEUS.

OCEANUS.

HERMES.

HEPHÆSTUS.

IO, _daughter of_ Inachus.

STRENGTH _and_ FORCE.

_Chorus of Sea Nymphs._

PROMETHEUS BOUND

SCENE.--_STRENGTH and FORCE, HEPHÆSTUS and PROMETHEUS, at the Rocks._

_Strength._ We reach the utmost limit of the earth, The Scythian track, the desert without man. And now, Hephæstus, thou must needs fulfil The mandate of our Father, and with links Indissoluble of adamantine chains Fasten against this beetling precipice This guilty god. Because he filched away Thine own bright flower, the glory of plastic fire, And gifted mortals with it,--such a sin It doth behove he expiate to the gods, Learning to accept the empery of Zeus And leave off his old trick of loving man.

_Hephæstus._ O Strength and Force, for you, our Zeus's will Presents a deed for doing, no more!--but _I_, I lack your daring, up this storm-rent chasm To fix with violent hands a kindred god, Howbeit necessity compels me so That I must dare it, and our Zeus commands With a most inevitable word. Ho, thou! High-thoughted son of Themis who is sage! Thee loth, I loth must rivet fast in chains Against this rocky height unclomb by man, Where never human voice nor face shall find Out thee who lov'st them, and thy beauty's flower, Scorched in the sun's clear heat, shall fade away. Night shall come up with garniture of stars To comfort thee with shadow, and the sun Disperse with retrickt beams the morning-frosts, But through all changes sense of present woe Shall vex thee sore, because with none of them There comes a hand to free. Such fruit is plucked From love of man! and in that thou, a god, Didst brave the wrath of gods and give away Undue respect to mortals, for that crime Thou art adjudged to guard this joyless rock, Erect, unslumbering, bending not the knee, And many a cry and unavailing moan To utter on the air. For Zeus is stern And new-made kings are cruel.

_Strength._ Be it so. Why loiter in vain pity? Why not hate A god the gods hate? one too who betrayed Thy glory unto men?

_Hephæstus._ An awful thing Is kinship joined to friendship.

_Strength._ Grant it be; Is disobedience to the Father's word A possible thing? Dost quail not more for that?

_Hephæstus._ Thou, at least, art a stern one: ever bold.

_Strength._ Why, if I wept, it were no remedy; And do not _thou_ spend labour on the air To bootless uses.

_Hephæstus._ Cursed handicraft! I curse and hate thee, O my craft!

_Strength._ Why hate Thy craft most plainly innocent of all These pending ills?

_Hephæstus._ I would some other hand Were here to work it!

_Strength._ All work hath its pain, Except to rule the gods. There is none free Except King Zeus.

_Hephæstus._ I know it very well: I argue not against it.

_Strength._ Why not, then, Make haste and lock the fetters over HIM Lest Zeus behold thee lagging?

_Hephæstus._ Here be chains. Zeus may behold these.

_Strength._ Seize him: strike amain: Strike with the hammer on each side his hands-- Rivet him to the rock.

_Hephæstus._ The work is done, And thoroughly done.

_Strength._ Still faster grapple him; Wedge him in deeper: leave no inch to stir. He's terrible for finding a way out From the irremediable.

_Hephæstus._ Here's an arm, at least, Grappled past freeing.

_Strength._ Now then, buckle me The other securely. Let this wise one learn He's duller than our Zeus.

_Hephæstus._ Oh, none but he Accuse me justly.

_Strength._ Now, straight through the chest, Take him and bite him with the clenching tooth Of the adamantine wedge, and rivet him.

_Hephæstus._ Alas, Prometheus, what thou sufferest here I sorrow over.

_Strength._ Dost thou flinch again And breathe groans for the enemies of Zeus? Beware lest thine own pity find thee out.

_Hephæstus._ Thou dost behold a spectacle that turns The sight o' the eyes to pity.

_Strength._ I behold A sinner suffer his sin's penalty. But lash the thongs about his sides.

_Hephæstus._ So much, I must do. Urge no farther than I must.

_Strength._ Ay, but I _will_ urge!--and, with shout on shout, Will hound thee at this quarry. Get thee down And ring amain the iron round his legs.

_Hephæstus._ That work was not long doing.

_Strength._ Heavily now Let fall the strokes upon the perforant gyves: For He who rates the work has a heavy hand.

_Hephæstus._ Thy speech is savage as thy shape.

_Strength._ Be thou Gentle and tender! but revile not me For the firm will and the untruckling hate.

_Hephæstus._ Let us go. He is netted round with chains.

_Strength._ Here, now, taunt on! and having spoiled the gods Of honours, crown withal thy mortal men Who live a whole day out. Why how could _they_ Draw off from thee one single of thy griefs? Methinks the Dæmons gave thee a wrong name, "Prometheus," which means Providence,--because Thou dost thyself need providence to see Thy roll and ruin from the top of doom.

_Prometheus (alone)._ O holy Æther, and swift-wingèd Winds, And River-wells, and laughter innumerous Of yon sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all, And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,-- Behold me, a god, what I endure from gods! Behold, with throe on throe, How, wasted by this woe, I wrestle down the myriad years of time! Behold, how fast around me, The new King of the happy ones sublime Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me! Woe, woe! to-day's woe and the coming morrow's I cover with one groan. And where is found me A limit to these sorrows? And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown Clearly all things that should be; nothing done Comes sudden to my soul; and I must bear What is ordained with patience, being aware Necessity doth front the universe With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave In silence or in speech. Because I gave Honour to mortals, I have yoked my soul To this compelling fate. Because I stole The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went Over the ferule's brim, and manward sent Art's mighty means and perfect rudiment, That sin I expiate in this agony, Hung here in fetters, 'neath the blanching sky. Ah, ah me! what a sound, What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between, Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound, To have sight of my pangs or some guerdon obtain. Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain! The god, Zeus hateth sore And his gods hate again, As many as tread on his glorified floor, Because I loved mortals too much evermore. Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear, As of birds flying near! And the air undersings The light stroke of their wings-- And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.

_Chorus of Sea Nymphs, 1st Strophe._ Fear nothing! our troop Floats lovingly up With a quick-oaring stroke Of wings steered to the rock, Having softened the soul of our father below. For the gales of swift-bearing have sent me a sound, And the clank of the iron, the malleted blow, Smote down the profound Of my caverns of old, And struck the red light in a blush from my brow,-- Till I sprang up unsandaled, in haste to behold, And rushed forth on my chariot of wings manifold.

_Prometheus._ Alas me!--alas me! Ye offspring of Tethys who bore at her breast Many children, and eke of Oceanus, he Coiling still around earth with perpetual unrest! Behold me and see How transfixed with the fang Of a fetter I hang On the high-jutting rocks of this fissure and keep An uncoveted watch o'er the world and the deep.

_Chorus, 1st Antistrophe._ I behold thee, Prometheus; yet now, yet now, A terrible cloud whose rain is tears Sweeps over mine eyes that witness how Thy body appears Hung awaste on the rocks by infrangible chains: For new is the Hand, new the rudder that steers The ship of Olympus through surge and wind-- And of old things passed, no track is behind.

_Prometheus._ Under earth, under Hades Where the home of the shade is, All into the deep, deep Tartarus, I would he had hurled me adown. I would he had plunged me, fastened thus In the knotted chain with the savage clang, All into the dark where there should be none, Neither god nor another, to laugh and see. But now the winds sing through and shake The hurtling chains wherein I hang, And I, in my naked sorrows, make Much mirth for my enemy.

_Chorus, 2nd Strophe._ Nay! who of the gods hath a heart so stern As to use thy woe for a mock and mirth? Who would not turn more mild to learn Thy sorrows? who of the heaven and earth Save Zeus? But he Right wrathfully Bears on his sceptral soul unbent And rules thereby the heavenly seed, Nor will he pause till he content His thirsty heart in a finished deed; Or till Another shall appear, To win by fraud, to seize by fear The hard-to-be-captured government.

_Prometheus._ Yet even of _me_ he shall have need, That monarch of the blessed seed, Of me, of me, who now am cursed By his fetters dire,-- To wring my secret out withal And learn by whom his sceptre shall Be filched from him--as was, at first, His heavenly fire. But he never shall enchant me With his honey-lipped persuasion; Never, never shall he daunt me With the oath and threat of passion Into speaking as they want me, Till he loose this savage chain, And accept the expiation Of my sorrow, in his pain.

_Chorus, 2nd Antistrophe._ Thou art, sooth, a brave god, And, for all thou hast borne From the stroke of the rod, Nought relaxest from scorn. But thou speakest unto me Too free and unworn; And a terror strikes through me And festers my soul And I fear, in the roll Of the storm, for thy fate In the ship far from shore: Since the son of Saturnus is hard in his hate And unmoved in his heart evermore.

_Prometheus._ I know that Zeus is stern; I know he metes his justice by his will; And yet, his soul shall learn More softness when once broken by this ill: And curbing his unconquerable vaunt He shall rush on in fear to meet with me Who rush to meet with him in agony, To issues of harmonious covenant.

_Chorus._ Remove the veil from all things and relate The story to us,--of what crime accused, Zeus smites thee with dishonourable pangs. Speak: if to teach us do not grieve thyself.

_Prometheus._ The utterance of these things is torture to me, But so, too, is their silence; each way lies Woe strong as fate. When gods began with wrath, And war rose up between their starry brows, Some choosing to cast Chronos from his throne That Zeus might king it there, and some in haste With opposite oaths that they would have no Zeus To rule the gods for ever,--I, who brought The counsel I thought meetest, could not move The Titans, children of the Heaven and Earth, What time, disdaining in their rugged souls My subtle machinations, they assumed It was an easy thing for force to take The mastery of fate. My mother, then, Who is called not only Themis but Earth too, (Her single beauty joys in many names) Did teach me with reiterant prophecy What future should be, and how conquering gods Should not prevail by strength and violence But by guile only. When I told them so, They would not deign to contemplate the truth On all sides round; whereat I deemed it best To lead my willing mother upwardly And set my Themis face to face with Zeus As willing to receive her. Tartarus, With its abysmal cloister of the Dark, Because I gave that counsel, covers up The antique Chronos and his siding hosts, And, by that counsel helped, the king of gods Hath recompensed me with these bitter pangs: For kingship wears a cancer at the heart,-- Distrust in friendship. Do ye also ask What crime it is for which he tortures me? That shall be clear before you. When at first He filled his father's throne, he instantly Made various gifts of glory to the gods And dealt the empire out. Alone of men, Of miserable men, he took no count, But yearned to sweep their track off from the world And plant a newer race there. Not a god Resisted such desire except myself. _I_ dared it! _I_ drew mortals back to light, From meditated ruin deep as hell! For which wrong, I am bent down in these pangs Dreadful to suffer, mournful to behold, And I, who pitied man, am thought myself Unworthy of pity; while I render out Deep rhythms of anguish 'neath the harping hand That strikes me thus--a sight to shame your Zeus!

_Chorus._ Hard as thy chains and cold as all these rocks Is he, Prometheus, who withholds his heart

From joining in thy woe. I yearned before To fly this sight; and, now I gaze on it, I sicken inwards.

_Prometheus._ To my friends, indeed, I must be a sad sight.

_Chorus._ And didst thou sin No more than so?

_Prometheus._ I did restrain besides My mortals from premeditating death.

_Chorus._ How didst thou medicine the plague-fear of death?

_Prometheus._ I set blind Hopes to inhabit in their house.

_Chorus._ By that gift thou didst help thy mortals well.

_Prometheus._ I gave them also fire.

_Chorus._ And have they now, Those creatures of a day, the red-eyed fire?

_Prometheus._ They have: and shall learn by it many arts.

_Chorus._ And truly for such sins Zeus tortures thee And will remit no anguish? Is there set No limit before thee to thine agony?

_Prometheus._ No other: only what seems good to HIM.

_Chorus._ And how will it seem good? what hope remains? Seest thou not that thou hast sinned? But that thou hast sinned It glads me not to speak of, and grieves thee: Then let it pass from both, and seek thyself Some outlet from distress.

_Prometheus._ It is in truth An easy thing to stand aloof from pain And lavish exhortation and advice On one vexed sorely by it. I have known All in prevision. By my choice, my choice, I freely sinned--I will confess my sin-- And helping mortals, found my own despair. I did not think indeed that I should pine Beneath such pangs against such skyey rocks, Doomed to this drear hill and no neighbouring Of any life: but mourn not ye for griefs I bear to-day: hear rather, dropping down To the plain, how other woes creep on to me, And learn the consummation of my doom. Beseech you, nymphs, beseech you, grieve for me Who now am grieving; for Grief walks the earth, And sits down at the foot of each by turns.

_Chorus._ We hear the deep clash of thy words, Prometheus, and obey. And I spring with a rapid foot away From the rushing car and the holy air, The track of birds; And I drop to the rugged ground and there Await the tale of thy despair.

_OCEANUS enters._

_Oceanus._ I reach the bourn of my weary road Where I may see and answer thee, Prometheus, in thine agony. On the back of the quick-winged bird I glode, And I bridled him in With the will of a god. Behold, thy sorrow aches in me Constrained by the force of kin. Nay, though that tie were all undone, For the life of none beneath the sun Would I seek a larger benison Than I seek for thine. And thou shalt learn my words are truth,-- That no fair parlance of the mouth Grows falsely out of mine. Now give me a deed to prove my faith; For no faster friend is named in breath Than I, Oceanus, am thine.

_Prometheus._ Ha! what has brought thee? Hast thou also come To look upon my woe? How hast thou dared To leave the depths called after thee, the caves Self-hewn and self-roofed with spontaneous rock, To visit earth, the mother of my chain? Hast come indeed to view my doom and mourn That I should sorrow thus? Gaze on, and see How I, the fast friend of your Zeus,--how I The erector of the empire in his hand, Am bent beneath that hand, in this despair.

_Oceanus._ Prometheus, I behold: and I would fain Exhort thee, though already subtle enough, To a better wisdom. Titan, know thyself, And take new softness to thy manners since A new king rules the gods. If words like these, Harsh words and trenchant, thou wilt fling abroad, Zeus haply, though he sit so far and high, May hear thee do it, and so, this wrath of his Which now affects thee fiercely, shall appear A mere child's sport at vengeance. Wretched god, Rather dismiss the passion which thou hast, And seek a change from grief. Perhaps I seem To address thee with old saws and outworn sense,-- Yet such a curse, Prometheus, surely waits On lips that speak too proudly: thou, meantime, Art none the meeker, nor dost yield a jot To evil circumstance, preparing still To swell the account of grief with other griefs Than what are borne. Beseech thee, use me then For counsel: do not spurn against the pricks,-- Seeing that who reigns, reigns by cruelty Instead of right. And now, I go from hence, And will endeavour if a power of mine Can break thy fetters through. For thee,--be calm, And smooth thy words from passion. Knowest thou not Of perfect knowledge, thou who knowest too much, That where the tongue wags, ruin never lags?

_Prometheus._ I gratulate thee who hast shared and dared All things with me, except their penalty. Enough so! leave these thoughts. It cannot be That thou shouldst move HIM. HE may _not_ be moved; And _thou_ beware of sorrow on this road.

_Oceanus._ Ay! ever wiser for another's use Than thine! the event, and not the prophecy, Attests it to me. Yet where now I rush, Thy wisdom hath no power to drag me back; Because I glory, glory, to go hence And win for thee deliverance from thy pangs, As a free gift from Zeus.