L. B. PEMBERTON. ^ LIBRARY ^ <: UNIVERSITY Ofy CAUPORNIA / SAN DIE60 J 7)^ r . OC !s^ \J -^^.^c^AU/<-iJxyCer^ /^/xs 1 ^ 9^fl-^^^ PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. A LYRICAL DRAMA BY L. B. pembp:rton. DRAMA TIS PERSOX.S. Prometheus. Movintain Nymphs. Hercules. Naiades. Demeler. Dryades. The Muses. He&perides. Eouian Nymphs. Nymphs of the Air. Invisible Spirits of Evil. Spirits of the Deep. Scene — A wild and desolate peak in the Caucasus IMounlains. ■*•' . FRANKLIN, OHIO: THE EDITOR PrBLI.SHING COMPANY. 1896. Copyright, 1896, The Editor Publishing Company, franklin, ohio. PREFACE, Of all the fables of antiquity, the legend of Prometheus has ever attracted considerable attention, not only on account of its great beauty — for many others are perhaps even more justly celebrated in this respect; but also because of a sublimity of conception and simplicity of treatment barely approached in any of the others. Here we realize that we have been brought into contact with a character whom we take pleasure in remembering, and whom we can scarcely forget. Of late years an extended and scholarly inquiry has been made into the meaning and origin of these old-time myths, and it was in casually looking over the result of some of these in- vestigations that I was struck more forcibly than ever with the full scope and significance of this particular legend. The grandeur of the brave old Titan as he defied the anger of the tyrant gods and resolutely maintained his affection and anxiety for the poor race of oppressed mortals — who, under his careful guidance, had increased and prospered, but were now threatened with extermination, — all this is a picture which in- vites our consideration and commands our admiration. Be it blasphemous or not, I am forced to admit that the whole stor>' seemed to me an ideal exemplification of that eternal struggle between man and his fate — his hopes and aspirations matched against that inevitable power that baffles his best efforts and continually renders his exertions for the most part in vain. PREFACE. Prometheus — who, with the Greeks, was the God of Fore- thought — to me looked more aptly the Spirit of Progress, des- tined at last, after ages of bitter struggles and keenest suffering, " To lead the upward-tending world, Thro' glorious futures, onward to perfection." According to the legend, this onward movement of the human race was, in this olden time, indefinitely deferred on account of the confinement of its leader, Prometheus, who had been condemned to lie for ages on a remote peak of the Cau- casus. From this condition it seems there was absolutely no escape until from the West a champion should come, break the chains of tyranny, and set Prometheus free forever. The champion prophesied for this event was Hercules, which still further strengthened the analogy in my own mind, as it naturally recalled the fact that Franklin had aptly chosen Her- cules as the emblem of the infant republics of America. Looking at the whole subject from a nineteenth century standpoint, and through the glamour of a republican atmos- phere, the legend now took upon itself the following inter- pretation : Prometheus became the God of Progress, attended by the nymphs of Liberty. He had been left to languish for ages in the remote mountain fastnesses — unnoticed by "these so-called gods reputed of superior mould." But now from that far- distant land beyond the " Islands of the Blest," a champion arises with a new dictum — " that all men are created equal a^id endowed by their Creator with certain inalioiable rights — amo7ig which are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness T This truth is too new for its real significance to be fully appreciated at the present time ; but as the swiftly-rolling years recede, this event PREFACE. will rise into bolder prominence and be recognized as one of the most important landmarks in the history of the world. No extensive claims are set up for the following essay — to which these few words are intended as a preface, — as no at- tempt has been made either to reproduce the lost play of iEschylus or to imitate those other equally-splendid poems of later times bearing upon the same subject ; but it is sent forth simply as an eflfort of academic days, when, daily worried with Greek accents and inflections while conning over " The glon.' that was Greece And the grandeur that was Rome," one naturally feels like seeking relief from the one by vainly striving after the other. With these few remarks, showing the plan and nature of the work, the reader, if curious, is invited to proceed. ACT I. Scene—.-/ wild and desolate peak in the Caucasus Mountains. Prome- theus is discovered, bound to a rocky cliff, where for ages he has tain confined. Prometheus (solus). Ab, miserable me! tbus doomed by Fate And heaven's unjust decree to linger out An everlasting life — ceons of woe, Constrained to this high rock with massive chains Of iron and adamant, stronger than man Or mortal strength could ever hope to bear. O thou, bright Sun ! whose swift, unfettered beams Earth and the depths of air doth permeate ; Thou gentle Wind ! that with unhindered course Glides o'er ihe fruitful land and wave-crisped sea; And ye bright Stars! that o'er my bended head Shine nightly in unnumbered throng, look down L'pon me in my woe — e'en tho' thy glance Doth pierce and burn me to the core with shame Of my condition, once as free as thine Grant ye, at least, from these unanswering depths Of desert air that swallow up my groans And cries, some breath of sympathy may spring; Let me but feel, ye friendly elements. Some other soul beats kindly to mine own, And fain would share some burden of my woe. And yet I grieve not for the pain I feel. That racks this wasted form of mine — wasted, Alas! for ages — but immortal still ; Nor does my spirit moan the glorious shame Of these huge chains that bind me to the earth — All these a soul like mine can scorn ; but here's The groan that rends my heart — to lie abject. Supine, bound hand and foot, twixt earth and heaven, PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Yet forced to waste in idleness the days And years away — this is the fiercest hell A proud, ambitious soul can ever feel. 'Tis this that makes my pain no pain at all, But still unbearable ; 'tis this that loads My chains with double strength and makes their weight So galling. Oh ! to expand this cramp'd chest, Stretch out these close, contracted limbs, to take But one short step upon the soft, green earth. Erect and free— as gods and men should be — 'Twere better than a whole eternity Of this inert decrepitude. Ah, me ! Why was it thus that I should suffer worse Than death, and yet could never die ? But soft! E'en sorrow hath its joys, and dear they are — Because so few — and few because so dear. By gentle whir of drooping wings, I know The dear companions of my woe approach, And with their presence bring a joy that soothes And dulls the edge of all my suffering. Thrice many thousand times hath yonder Sun His daily round performed, and in his course Ruthlessly scattered ruin and decay ; But ever at my side with hopeful words These high-browed maidens of the mountain sit — The champions of my cause ; and thus we see Oft-times upon the cold gray rocks of woe There blooms the tender flower of joy. Chorus. Hail ! hail ! we welcome thee, Although we shudder as we see Again thy frown of agony. Ah, me ! that gods must feel and know The grinding heel, the curse and blow Of tyranny. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Echo. Thro' the clear air we heard you speak. With bated breath. Thoughts that made our hearts grow weak. Dream'st thou of Death? Keep not from us the jewels of your mind, But speak the wisdom we ourselves could never find. Pro. The thoughts That stirred my breast, whose echoes ye have heard, Are not so doleful as they seem, though death, Perchance, should be their theme. To mortal eyes Death is the height of all calamities. Alas ! how gladly would I now cast off This outward cloak of harrowing renown, And deem it highest joy to cease this life And sink my woes in Lethe's oblivious waves. If mankind knew the burden and the pain Of this unceasing immortality, They would not raise such loud and piteous moan For what soon tires, but ne'er can be disowned. Echo. How sweet the sleep of Death To those who have no fear, Who calmly yield their latest breath, And sink to rest, Like babes at breast. Without a pang, without a tear. Hyale. How hard the bitter lot Of poor mortality, If toil and suffering were not Cut short by Death's decree, When fretful mind Is left behind With pain and strife and penury ! Chorus. Oh ! who would not down life's small stream Sail out upon the azure Ocean, Entranced in Death's delightful dream. lO PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. To the source of being and of motion ? Who would not keep The hallowed sleep That crowns a life of pure devotion ? Nephele. In death what can we lose ? For life, Bound to this earth In strife To toil, or worse — to use The days of dearth For naught of worth — Has nothing much to lose. Pro. To me death were a joy unspeakable Had it been so decreed that I should lie Forever clinched to this seamed precipice, For benefits no needy man bestowed ; But thus throughout the ages has it been — Whoe'er on man has showered a precious gift Has drunk the cup of sorrow in return. O Death ! thou magic and undying sleep That cures at last the deepest wounds of pain And woe, enwrapped in thy caressing arms, O what a heav'n of everlasting dreams Our disembodied senses doth embrace And soothe to endless and ecstatic bliss ! Chorus. Death, physician to mankind. Who heals the woes of troubled mind ; Restores the deaf, the dumb, the blind ; Who keeps the keys to towers high Wherefrom the soul at last may spy The meaning of life's mystery ; Releaser from fatigue and pain, None ever asks thy aid in vain — Tho' many reap unsought thy gain. 'Tis not so strange that those who weep Seek death for that sweet, quiet sleep Which, while on earth, they can not keep. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. ii Pro. This suffering of mine shall have its end ; These sad and hea\-)' eyes of mine are not From pining sadness due — they but reflect That dim and immaterial world whose dreams Become the stern realities and facts Of future time. Chorus. Nay ! nay ! but tell us all. Shall something worse befall To give thee cause for grief? Our hearts are torn for thee^ — Unless we mourn for thee We can not find relief. Pro. Know, then, there is a world Within us and about us, which the eyes Of common kind do not as yet discern. Like clumsy boulders in a tinkling stream. Some souls ne'er feel the subtle waves that surge From center to circumference of this Great Spirit-World. Here dwell the finer joys That taste of heaven, and here the deeper thoughts Whence spring and flow in swift, concentric waves The sterner truths that strike the heart of man. "Tis this unseen, unreal world that is Of all things— ay! the only thing that's real, Tho' hid within a coarse and outer growth Of universal falsehoods and enigmas. Chorus. O world mysterious, Thou art so near to us We would know more of thee ; Thou art more, it seems, Than a realm for dreams, And keepest in store The deeper lore Of truth and deBtinj. ts PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Pro. By these prophetic eyes — whose joy 't has been To watch the massing clouds, the drift and flow Of these dim agencies whose mingling forms Bring forth the varying offspring of events — I see strange happenings, undreamed-of things. That still lie deep within the womb of time. Chorus. Down thro' the circling years of time Thou hast seen all ; And many things perhaps sublime Thou couldst recall Whose meaning we could not divine. Thy watchful eye Not only viewed The savage land Fruitful become and beautify, But, with thy helping hand, Saw cities rise From hovels rude ; Under thy care, Dull man grow wise, And wealth increase Thro' toils of war And spoils of peace ; But long aeons before When first old Chaos bore To love a child Whose mother — when she knew The child she'd brought to view, And that it smiled — With horror filled. Shrieking perished in her pain, — When Order into being came. All this and more hast thou beheld, Which are the treasures of the Eld. Pray tell us of the long-gone-by, For 'tis a garden to our eye. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Pro. The Past, methinks, is an unfruitful theme, Unless the telling o'er may teach us how To read the Future or to comprehend The Now. '. Much as the mind may love to It-urn, Wisdom must oft to pleasure yield the palm ; P'or idlest folly is at times more wise Than foolish wisdom. ..But the time drags on — My leisure hours are lengthened into years— And as the looking o'er those far-off scenes May make us overleap our present woe. Say what thou'dst know and gladly I will tell. Chorus. Almighty ISIind— That backward throws Thy glance to when from Chaos blind And Night's black heart The universe arose — How wonderful thou art ! Pro. r>oldlv against the rise and wreck of worlds The human Mind stands forth, sublime, steadfast, Alone! The seasons come and go; men live And die and cease to be ; new worlds are born. Grow into beauty, wither and decay; The stars spring forth, then fall and fade awa}-. And yet, thro' all this mighty, ceaseless change. The Mind as if from some high eminence Looks calmly on, unmoved, unaltered still. Chorus. Wonders of all wonders on earth. From thee they all have their birth. Pro. And yet how different the view to him Who from some tall unsheltered height survevs The scene entire, compared to one close by, Who in the valley toils and merely sees The narrow stream as it rolls nearly by. Ere man, or earth, or starry sky, I was, And from the whirling elemental mass 14 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Of Chaos saw one by one the seething worlds Go spinning on their everlasting course, Till all the azure archway of the skies Was fretted o'er with fair and radiant stars. Oh ! what a glorious sight 'twas then to view, Adown the long, illumined avenues Of space, the onward train of endless worlds. The first great step was taken, and the march Of evolution had at last begun ! The bud of life had bursted, and its leaves Began to peep beyond the husk and shell. Ere long on these infinitesimal spheres, Which writhing suns when in their agony Threw madly off — of which our earth is one — Behold ! the cooling rocks crumble, decay, And soon luxuriant foliage springs forth — Grasses, and trees, sweet herbs, and finer flowers ; Then later, crude, half- shapeless moving things Were seen — precursors of the human form ! Ages on ages passed, and then we see Those upright figures who have lately been Like human beings wand'ring here and there — Whose gaze was ever upward and above them — In their bewildered minds at last had dawned An inner light unlike the glare of noon Or gleam of night — the God within now stood Revealed ! The Ego of eternity, That had indwelt and woven out the forms Of ever finer, still-unfolding life, Now, thro' the thinner, fair envelopment Of human flesh, shone forth at last — divine ! Creation was complete ! It was for this That Chaos groaned, and fiery suns were cooled — That on this quiet and out-lying world Might germinate the last and highest fruit Of all creative toil — the human Soul ! PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 15 Chorus. O grand triumphal hour I When man first felt the inner power Of consciousness revealed ; When low, brutish desires Are purged by purer, holier fires Ere then in man concealed. Pro. By slow and tedious steps I then taught men To reap the fruit of knowledge — which is wisdom; Beneath my watchful guidance, too, began The useful arts and sciences to flourish ; But now the tyrant Zeus doth seek to stay My course, and crush man from the earth forever. Chorus. And yet with sorrow's clearer eye, .^nd mind replete With varied memory. The clothed moments fly More unperceiv^d by, .\nd seemingly more fleet. While every hour can borrow From out the Past some gleam. There's little room for sorrow — Unless it's too, a dream. Pro. All this and more 1 have beheld, and know Wherewith to profit by. Rut here I lie — Bound by the haughty will of Zeus thro' Fate On this huge rock, unmoved, immoveable. Chorus. Is not thy miserable state The fruit alone of Zeus' hate ? Pro. These present Gods are like the summer's wind A little gust which blows, and then is not. There is a mighty Power that lives behind And moves this vast, majestic universe; Wrapped in its own impenetrable mind Reposes some deep, everlasting scheme- Too great for finite minds to apprehend. r6 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. This scheme lies at the root of all existence, Brought systems forth and order out of Chaos. All is controlled by Fate, the stern compeller, The source of mind, phenomena, and life. Within the circle of its vision keen Has ever widened the concentric waves Of human thought and action. Chorus. Now my mind with fervor burns, Now my clearer eye discerns The purpose and the plan. At last we can, tho' dimly, see An all-controlling Deity Whose hopes converge in Man. Pro. Yet for me Is endless pain and gloom and misery. Alas ! must this wide earth beneath me be The toy and plaything of the petty few — Those pun}-, petted nurslings of the skies — And forced to yield always to their mad whims ? Shall god-like Man, whom I have nourished, be By these new Gods destroyed, and Tyranny Forever reign supreme? I who have seen All things, can only pause and answer— Why? And yet I have but lately grown to doubt What most I had believed, believe whate'er Before was doubted— only to doubt again As soon as 'twas believed. Alas ! the day Seems ever darker than the night it ends, And night more gloomy than the morning past. And yet, alas ! I must endure. Chorus. All things will yet be well ; 'Tis only for a spell That clouds can hide the sun. Behind the night's thick gloom PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. tj The sun lies, and the moon And stars must vanish one by one. Thus roll The days and years away ; the roseate dreams Of years ago have withered and decayed ; Bright hopes and splendid futures have become Sepulchral mounds and nionuiuents to mark The dim and shadowv outlines of the past. Alas ! that we should ever rise on heaps Of shattered hopes. My soul, that early chose A glorious course, now feels its tir^d wings Weighed down with clay, and seeks no more to soar. Night, with its gloom, blots out another day, And still for me no sign — no help — no hope. r8 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. ACT 11. Scene — Same as in Act I. Demeter and her Nymphs call upon Pro- metheus, complaining of the unfruitfulness of the earth and the general discontent of Man. Chorus. Hail ! hail ! all hail to thee, Great mother of Persephone, Who makes the harsh and rugged soil Yield to the laborer's honest toil ; Who follows round the plodding plow, And crowns the faith of those who sow. With harvests bright of ample yield; O thou, whose hope is in the field. Whose care is those who therein ply Th' unvaried arts of industry, Thy mighty power we revere — Beneficent Earth-mother dear ! Dryades. To thee we come, Thou Titan-son, Who, chained to this dread, lonely rock, Has long defied The tyrant's pride. Endured the storm and earthquake shock ; Tho' all their chains could not confine One thought in that proud breast of thine. Nor bind e'en those who at thy shrine With thoughts of Liberty incline. Alas ! what wealth and time The world lost in its prime ! What store it might have gained Had Prometheus been unchained ! PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 19 Oh ! how we mourn for thee, To see thee lie Abject and torn Beneath the fangs of Tyranny. Pro. The joy I feel at thy approach is less, Perhaps, than it should seem ; for sudden Shame Crowds all my better feelings back, and Fear Unchecked would know what great and equal cause Could urge thee to so perilous a journey? Demetcr. Grieve not to me, God most beneficent, For what thou seemest to be nor what thou art. I know thee, and familiar is the cause Unjust that leads to thy discomfiture — The fault is not thine own, and those who bear The fruit of others' faults should not be shamed ; Besides, I have good cause for vent'ring hither. Pro. Much do I crave to know and yet I fear These heartless tyrants have some newer form Of tyranny devised — I dread to hear ! Demetcr. Alas ! 'tis deeper than mere outward form — The malady lies at the root of things ; The soil concedes no more its wonted yield — The fruit blights in the blossom and-the leaves Fall slowly crisp and crumbling to the ground. For long the heavens have refused to give One drop of moist'ning dew or rain; of late Despondent man has ceased his usual toil And slowly waits his sure extermination. Dryades. Our abode is stripped of its leaves, It stands deserted and bare; The earth no moisture receives, But burns in the hot sun's glare. 20 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Naiades. The streams grow shallow and dry, We soon must away from them flee Unless the Gods hear our cry — They surely our misery see. Nymphs of the Air. The air is parched and hot, Our gaspings are slower and fewer; Unless relief soon is brought We can not much longer endure. Chorus. The future as the Past is blind — No cause, no course, no end; All things to nothing tend— Prometheus is confined ! O Earth ! O Time ! O Mind ! O Life ! O Misery ! No joy, no hope we see — Prometheus is confined! Invisible Evil Spirits. At last the day's coming When Vice and Tyranny Shall reign supreme. Away, ye demons, fling This phantom of Liberty — 'Tis but a dream, And dreams must be destroyed. Quick! quick! let us begin The long-deferred triumph of Sin — Earth, heaven, should be — a void ! Demeter. Ah, me ! those dreadful words, they drive despair Into my soul. And when I daily see The toiling millions blindly turn to heaven Their dull, despairing eyes, in vain, for hope — While aimlessly they wander to and fro. Or work to wear their useless lives away — My sad heart aches and tears rush in my eyes. PROMETHEUS UXBOUND. ai Dryades. Alas ! the piteous sight ! How sad Man's wretched plight When Tyranny doth reign ! The gifts that cheer and bless — Peace, joy, and happiness- Man seeks, but seeks in vain. Demrter. The Father groans beneath his galling load, Which still grows more and more o'erwhelming; The mother sighs with far off, vacant look ; E'en babes, with sickly voices much subdued, Make poor pretense of play ; while awkward youth Grow up to feel one dull, short pang of love And then — take up the burden of existence. O age of misery ! I pray thee tell Where is there cause for joy in life or love While wretched scenes like these agrieve the eye? Dryades. O cruel Fate ! whose harsh decree Has chained the force, The cause, the source Of Progress and of Liberty! Chorus. O cruel Fate ! we can not see The course and end Towards which we tend. But blindly put our trust in thee. Pro. Nay I tho' the heavens fall, do not despair; There is a course, in all material things, That sprung indeed from Chaos, but shall not Thither return. I, who suffer, have learned To look with greater calmness and insight Upon the grief and suffering of others. I, who have taught mankind to strive with skill To know and pluck the ripened fruit of knowledge; I, who have been their counsel and their guide — 22 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Tho' chained for ages to these mountain rocks, Unmoved, immovable, — I now perceive, Unless all signs and prophecies read wrong, A greater gloom, that merely doth presage The nearness of the morning light. Ere long These chains will loosen ; I shall be released Once more to lead the upward-tending world Thro' glorious futures onward to perfection. Dryades. O happy day ! vv-e yet may rove Unhindered thro' the shadowy grove — Locked in the arms of those we love. Naiades. Then shall we sit by cress^d stream — Tell o'er our loves and fondly dream. Chorus. O joy ! we have not hoped in vain, Or treasured up a fruitless cause ; For Right shall o'er the earth yet reign — Obedient to eternal laws. Denieter. Art sure these new-raised Gods will be o'erthrown ? Pro. Such is the will of Fate. These so-called Gods, Reputed of superior mould, must fall And bite the dust they now so much disdain. Demeter. But will the change be soon? Pro. Sooner, perhaps. Than even dreams would dare to prophesy ; For daily now such mighty things are wrought, 'Tis plain it is with no mere common means The Fates are working out their wondrous will. Today's the greatest day in history — It marks an onward, ne'er-o'ertakeu step. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 23 Dtmetcr. But tell us why thou hast to prophet turned, And what good reasons lead to these forecasts? For faith, altho' of higher growth than reason, Dolh still require this lower, baser stock To lean upon, for then it feels secure. Pro. Thou hast, O Earth, but a mere atom seen O' the plan by which creation doth proceed. This earth is merely to the realms of space A sheltered bay for few and shallow waves To drift and play in, while the Ocean great Rolls deep beyond. Ages on ages past, One grand, mysterious process was begun — Whose final work, is not yet done, kl first It stationed suns, then moulded planets dim And made them fair with useful plants and flowers; Wove out the lower forms of moving things, Then more and more comple.\ and perfect types, Till all at last was consummate in Man — Or will be when the mighty task is done. Demeter. Then not created for my care alone Was Man ; he is to hold a higher place — The climax in the series of events! Pro. Faintly but firm the print is seen; towards Man All things have tended since creation's dawn. The flow of coming ages will purge out The coarse and baser elements till all The taint of ancestry shall be effaced. Until the Soul shines forth— a perfect gem! Demeter. But after all these years of toil, when Time Has worn away the traces of his birth, Will he then dwell upon the earth forever? 24 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. Pro. Why dost thou still pursue thy questioning? With knowledge oft comes sorrow. Wouldst thou drive The Infinite itself unto the wall, And call the unborn ages forth to speak Before their time ? Demeter. This only would I know ; For have I not the keen solicitude That ever lies within a mother's heart? I ask but this. Pro. Then to thy sorrow search The hidden things, and learn what is to be : A few short years will see Man pass away — The earth roll cold and pulseless thro' dim space, Like some sad, lonely moon — Demeter. O bitter Truth ! I know thee now too well — thou art but gall ! Cruel is Fate — this life not worth the toil! Ah, woe is me ! not merely that I am, But that I know I am a thing of time — A creature born to struggle and to die! Where is the good of these aeons of toil. Of struggle, pain, and slow development — All for a perfect hour, flee'ing and vain ? O Truth! what mockery has called thee sweet? Bitter thou art ; to me, wormwood and gall ! Dryades. Alas ! whene'er we rise Upon the swell of joy. Our spirit sinks and dies E'en as the wave rolls by. Pro. Peace, peace, for shame ! Gods should not grieve like men- Altho' they be not far removed from them. The gloss and finish of this earthly life Will well be worth the toil when all is done. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. aS A glorious end will surely be attained— Else all creation were a failure vast And all this universe most incomplete. To hurl the discus further at a throw, Or shoot the arrow nearer to the mark, To feel the blood flow quick from exercise — All nerves the human hand to still reach forth To pluck Perfection's rare and vaunted flower. Demeter. Indeed, most glorious does all this seem ; But Where's the glory that can compensate In any measure for a lack of living? Chorus. Pray tell us more of that still distant date, When Man shall thrive in his perfected state. Pro. My words— altho' a God's— can not describe The more than heavenly transports of those times. None then would think these travail-burdened days Had not brought forth a most abundant fruit. The rank of tyranny will be forgot; War, famine, strife, and pinching poverty Will have become, like childish toys, outgrown — Diseases, dim traditions of the past. And all this flesh— now vile— insensibly Have lost its aches and pains, and grown to be At last a fair and holy temple, fit r. For pure, angelic spirits to reside. Demeter. Scarcely can I believe such wondrous things On this sad earth will ever be. Pro. I know The heart that ever hopes is called a fool — Fit only to be duped; but sure as noon Succeeds the morn, so will these things yet be; 36 PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. They are the leaves and flowers that grow forth In proper season on the Tree of Life. We now are blindly toiling at the roots, But ages hence will see above our heads The spreading branches and the ripened fruit. Chorus. O glorious day ! Earth moves along Upon its ever upward-tending way. With joyful song We bless each day That speeds it on its upward-tending way. Pro. 'Tis true each day that dawns upon the earth Repeats no more the details of the last — It labors now with new and great events. PROMETHEUS UNBOUND. 27 ACT III. Scene— 5aw