Page:Prometheus bound - Browning (1833).djvu/58

 Atlas,—who with eterne surpassing might. Doth groan beneath the freight Of the supernal pole. For him the tides of ocean wailing roll, And earthly caves emit a deep'ning sigh; And hell's obscure recesses sound reply; And fountains, whence the limpid rivers flow, Murmur a pitying woe. Pro. Think not that indolence or arrogance Maketh me silent thus; I gnaw mine heart With thought, contemplating mine outraged form. Yet to these newly-crowned gods, what hand, Saving this hand, gave out the gifts of empire? Which things, I silent pass; for I would speak To you who own their knowledge. Dather hear What crimes I perpetrated touching man; How from his idiot state I made him wise And mind-possessive. Blaming him in nought, But making clear my gifts' beneficence,