Page:Writings of Henry David Thoreau (1906) v5.djvu/400

358 Io. Whence utterest thou my father's name?

Tell me, miserable, who thou art,

That to me, O suffering one, me born to suffer,

Thus true things dost address?

The god-sent ail thou'st named,

Which wastes me stinging

With maddening goads, alas! alas!

With foodless and unseemly leaps

Rushing headlong, I came,

By wrathful plots subdued.

Who of the wretched, who, alas! alas! suffers like me?

But to me clearly show

What me awaits to suffer,

What not necessary; what remedy of ill,

Teach, if indeed thou know'st; speak out,

Tell the ill-wandering virgin.

Pr. I'll clearly tell thee all you wish to learn.

Not weaving in enigmas, but in simple speech,

As it is just to open the mouth to friends.

Thou seest the giver of fire to men, Prometheus.

Io. O thou who didst appear a common help to mortals,

Wretched Prometheus, to atone for what do you endure this?

Pr. I have scarce ceased my sufferings lamenting.

Io. Would you not grant this favor to me?

Pr. Say what you ask; for you 'd learn all from me.

Io. Say who has bound thee to the cliff.

Pr. The will, indeed, of Zeus, Hephaistus' hand.

Io. And penalty for what crimes dost thou pay?

Pr. Thus much only can I show thee.