Page:Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) v5.djvu/390

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Come spectator? How didst thou dare, leaving

The stream which bears thy name, and rock-roofed

Caves self-built, to the iron-mother

Earth to go? To behold my fate

Hast come, and to compassionate my ills?

Behold a spectacle, this, the friend of Zeus,

Having with him stablished his tyranny,

With what afflictions by himself I'm bent. Oc. I see, Prometheus, and would admonish

Thee the best, although of varied craft.

Know thyself, and fit thy manners

New; for new also the king among the gods.

For if thus rude and whetted words

Thou wilt hurl out, quickly may Zeus, though sitting

Far above, hear thee, so that thy present wrath

Of troubles child's play will seem to be.

But, O wretched one, dismiss the indignation which thou hast,

And seek deliverance from these woes.

Like an old man, perhaps, I seem to thee to say these things;

Such, however, are the wages

Of the too lofty speaking tongue, Prometheus;

But thou art not yet humble, nor dost yield to ills,

And beside the present wish to receive others still.

But thou wouldst not, with my counsel,

Against the pricks extend your limbs, seeing that

A stern monarch irresponsible reigns.

And now I go, and will endeavor,

If I can, to release thee from these sufferings.

But be thou quiet, nor too rudely speak.