Page:Prometheus Bound (Bevan 1902).djvu/57

 Of the heavenly hall, because that men

He loved with a love exceeding great.

Ha, there! there again! What is it I hear

As the whirring of birds? The shrill air sings

To the beat of nimble-driven wings.

All sound of approach is fear.

[The appear in the air, borne in a winged vessel.]

Fear nought from us, but know

This band is friend, not foe,

We that on swiftest pinions hither sail,—

Nay, but with pain we bent

Our sire to give assent,—

Borne to this hill along the streaming gale.

To deepest caverns rang

Of stricken iron clang,

And straight amazement cast out maiden fear:

I flew with speed amain,

Upon a wingèd wain,

I flew, my sandals left, burning to see and hear.