Page:Prometheus Bound, and other poems.djvu/52

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And with his tongue declared it true,

That love comes best that comes unto

The equal of degree!

And that the poor and that the low

Should seek no love from those above,

Whose souls are fluttered with the flow

Of airs about their golden height,

Or proud because they see arow

Ancestral crowns of light!

Oh! never, never, may ye, Fates,

Behold me with your awful eyes

Lift mine too fondly up the skies

Where Zeus, upon the purple, waits!—

Nor let me step too near—too near—

To any suitor, bright from heaven—

Because I see—because I fear—

This loveless maiden vexed and laden

By this fell curse of Here,—driven

On wanderings dread and drear!

Nay, grant an equal troth instead,

Of nuptial love to bind me by!—

It will not hurt—I shall not dread

To meet it in reply.

And let not love, from those above,

Revert and fix me, as I said,

With that inevitable Eye!

I have no sword to fight that fight—

I have no strength to tread that path—

I know not if my nature hath

The power to bear,—I cannot see,