Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882) : from "The Masque of Pandora"

                                 III

TOWER OF PROMETHEUS ON MOUNT CAUCASUS

                                  PROMOTHEUS.

I HEAR the trumpet of Alectryon

Proclaim the dawn.   The stars begin to fade,

And all the heavens are full of prophecies

And evil auguries.   Blood-red last night

I saw great Kronos rise ; the crescent moon

Sank through the mist, as if it were the scythe

His parricidal hand had flung far down

The western steeps.   O ye immortal Gods,

What evils are ye plotting and contriving ?


             
        HERMES and PANDORA at the threshold

                                  PANDORA.

I cannot cross the threshold.   An unseen

And icy hand repels me.   These blank walls 

Oppress me with their weight !



                                   PROMETHEUS.

                                                 Powerful ye are,

But not omnipotent.   Ye cannot fight 

Against Necessity.   The Fates control you,

As they do us, and so far we are equals !


                                   PANDORA.

Motionless, passionless, companionless

He sits there muttering in his beard.   His voice 

Is like a river flowing underground!



                                  HERMES.

Prometheus,  hail !



                                  PROMETHEUS.

                                                  Who calls me  ?



                                 HERMES. 

                                                                 It is I.

Dost Thou not know me ?



                                  PROMETHEUS.

                                                   By thy winged cap

And winged heels I know thee.   Thou art Hermes,

Captain of thieves !   Hast thou again been stealing 

The heifers of Admetus in the sweet   

Meadows of asphodel ?   Or Hera's girdle ?

Or the earth-shaking trident of Poseidon ?                     



                                  HERMES.

And thou, Prometheus ; say , hast thou again

Been stealing fire from Helios' chariot-wheels

To light thy furnaces ?



                           PROMETHEUS.

                                   Why comest though hither

So early in the dawn ?



                            HERMES.

                                   The Immortal Gods 

Know naught of late or early.    Zeus himself 

The omnipotent hath sent me.



                            PROMETHEUS.

                                              For what purpose ?



                            HERMES.

To bring this maiden to thee.



                                   PROMETHEUS.

                                                   I mistrust

The Gods and all their gifts.   If they have sent her

It is for no good purpose.



                           HERMES.

                                                    What disaster

Could she bring on thy house, who is a woman ?



                                   PROMETHEUS.

The Gods are not my friends, nor am I theirs.

Whatever comes from them, though in a shape

As beautiful as this, is evil only.

Who art though ?



                                 PANDORA.

            One who, though to thee unknown,

Yet knoweth thee.



                                PROMETHEUS.

    How shouldst thou know me, woman ?





The Masque of Pandora , 1875