Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/37

 Thy well-loved mortals can deliver thee From all these woes. The gods have named thee falsely Prometheus the Provider, who thyself Need'st a provider for escaping hence.

O holy æther, and swift-wingëd winds, And river founts, and dimples numberless Of oceanic waves—all-fost'ring earth, And, all-beholding sun, on thee I call, Behold me, what I bear—a god, from gods. Behold me, by what anguish worn, These eyes of mine shall weary turn Unto time's myriad years. So harsh a chain of suffering, Hath form'd for me heav'n's new-made king! Alas! alas! my tears Alike for present and for future flow!— Where lies the bound'ry of my mighty woe?