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This arm at least it were a task to free.

Now pin thou this as surely. Let him learn,

Wise as he is, there is One of nimbler wit.

Such binding none could censure,—save the bound.

Right through his bosom now drive lustily

The fierce tooth of an adamantine wedge.

Alas, Prometheus! for thy pains I groan.

Yes, thou art soft, and for the foes of Zeus

Groanest: thou yet may'st need thy pity at home.