VI. In the Garden

PROMETHEUS(without).

She escapes among the trees.

Haste and hide thee,

Ere too late,

In these thickets intricate;

Lest Prometheus

See and chide thee,

Lest some hurt

Or harm betide thee,

Haste and hide thee!

Who was it fled from here? I saw a shape

Flitting among the trees.

It was Pandora.

O Epimetheus! Is it then in vain

That I have warned thee? Let me now implore.

Thou harborest in thy house a dangerous guest.

Whom the Gods love they honor with such guests.

Whom the Gods would destroy they first make mad.

Shall I refuse the gifts they send to me?

Reject all gifts that come from higher powers.

Such gifts as this are not to be rejected.

Make not thyself the slave of any woman.

Make not thyself the judge of any man.

I judge thee not; for thou art more than man;

Thou art descended from Titanic race,

And hast a Titan’s strength and faculties

That make thee godlike; and thou sittest here

Like Heracles spinning Omphale’s flax,

And beaten with her sandals.

O my brother!

Thou drivest me to madness with thy taunts.

And me thou drivest to madness with thy follies.

Come with me to my tower on Caucasus:

See there my forges in the roaring caverns,

Beneficent to man, and taste the joy

That springs from labor. Read with me the stars,

And learn the virtues that lie hidden in plants,

And all things that are useful.

O my brother!

I am not as thou art. Thou dost inherit

Our father’s strength, and I our mother’s weakness:

The softness of the Oceanides,

The yielding nature that cannot resist.

Because thou wilt not.

Nay; because I cannot.

Assert thyself; rise up to thy full height;

Shake from thy soul these dreams effeminate,

These passions born of indolence and ease.

Resolve, and thou art free. But breathe the air

Of mountains, and their unapproachable summits

Will lift thee to the level of themselves.

The roar of forests and of waterfalls,

The rushing of a mighty wind, with loud

And undistinguishable voices calling,

Are in my ear!

Oh, listen and obey.

Thou leadest me as a child. I follow thee.

Centuries old are the mountains;

Their foreheads wrinkled and rifted

Helios crowns by day,

Pallid Selene by night;

From their bosoms uptossed

The snows are driven and drifted,

Like Tithonus’ beard

Streaming dishevelled and white.

Thunder and tempest of wind

Their trumpets blow in the vastness;

Phantoms of mist and rain,

Cloud and the shadow of cloud,

Pass and repass by the gates

Of their inaccessible fastness;

Ever unmoved they stand,

Solemn, eternal, and proud.

Flooded by rain and snow

In their inexhaustible sources,

Swollen by affluent streams

Hurrying onward and hurled

Headlong over the crags,

The impetuous water-courses

Rush and roar and plunge

Down to the nethermost world.

Say, have the solid rocks

Into streams of silver been melted,

Flowing over the plains,

Spreading to lakes in the fields?

Or have the mountains, the giants,

The ice-helmed, the forest-belted,

Scattered their arms abroad;

Flung in the meadows their shields?

High on their turreted cliffs

That bolts of thunder have shattered,

Storm-winds muster and blow

Trumpets of terrible breath;

Then from the gateways rush,

And before them routed and scattered

Sullen the cloud-rack flies,

Pale with the pallor of death.

Onward the hurricane rides,

And flee for shelter the shepherds;

White are the frightened leaves,

Harvests with terror are white;

Panic seizes the herds,

And even the lions and leopards,

Prowling no longer for prey,

Crouch in their caverns with fright.

Guarding the mountains around

Majestic the forests are standing,

Bright are their crested helms,

Dark is their armor of leaves;

Filled with the breath of freedom

Each bosom subsiding, expanding,

Now like the ocean sinks,

Now like the ocean upheaves.

Planted firm on the rock,

With foreheads stern and defiant,

Loud they shout to the winds,

Loud to the tempest they call;

Naught but Olympian thunders,

That blasted Titan and Giant,

Them can uproot and o’erthrow,

Shaking the earth with their fall.

These are the Voices Three

Of winds and forests and fountains,

Voices of earth and of air,

Murmur and rushing of streams,

Making together one sound,

The mysterious voice of the mountains,

Waking the sluggard that sleeps,

Waking the dreamer of dreams.

These are the Voices Three,

That speak of endless endeavor,

Speak of endurance and strength,

Triumph and fulness of fame,

Sounding about the world,

An inspiration forever,

Stirring the hearts of men,

Shaping their end and their aim.