Page:Prometheus Bound (Bevan 1902).djvu/108



Of these twain things make one a grace to her,

To me the other, and put not these my words

To shame, but unto her do thou unfold

The remnant of her pilgrimage, to me

Him that shall loose thee:—this is my desire.

Since ye are instant, I will not contend,

But utter all that ye require. And first,

That labour of much going many ways,

Io, it falls to unfold thee, which do thou

Grave in the mindful tables of thy heart.

So soon as thou shalt pass that stream, the bourne

Of continent and continent, toward

The East flame-flooded, trodden of the sun,

Press forthright. First to the winds that way shall bring thee,