A poem by Aeschylus (c. 525 – c. 456 Before Christ )
PROMETHEUS (alone)
O holy Aether, and swift-winged Winds,
And River-wells, and laughter innumerous
Of yon Sea-waves! Earth, mother of us all,
And all-viewing cyclic Sun, I cry on you,–
Behold me a god, what I endure from gods!
Behold, with throe on throe,
How, wasted by this woe,
I wrestle down the myriad years of Time!
Behold, how fast around me
The new King of the happy ones sublime
Has flung the chain he forged, has shamed and bound me!
Woe, woe! to-day’s woe and the coming morrow’s
I cover with one groan. And where is found me
A limit to these sorrows?
And yet what word do I say? I have foreknown
Clearly all things that should be; nothing done
Comes sudden to my soul–and I must bear
What is ordained with patience, being aware
Necessity doth front the universe
With an invincible gesture. Yet this curse
Which strikes me now, I find it hard to brave
In silence or in speech. Because I gave
Honor to mortals, I have yoked my soul
To this compelling fate. Because I stole
The secret fount of fire, whose bubbles went
Over the ferrule’s brim, and manward sent
Art’s mighty means and perfect rudiment,
That sin I expiate in this agony,
Hung here in fetters, ‘neath the blanching sky.
Ah, ah me! what a sound,
What a fragrance sweeps up from a pinion unseen
Of a god, or a mortal, or nature between,
Sweeping up to this rock where the earth has her bound,
To have sight of my pangs, or some guerdon obtain–
Lo, a god in the anguish, a god in the chain!
The god Zeus hateth sore,
And his gods hate again,
As many as tread on his glorified floor,
Because I loved mortals too much evermore.
Alas me! what a murmur and motion I hear,
As of birds flying near!
And the air undersings
The light stroke of their wings–
And all life that approaches I wait for in fear.
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External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
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Poems in English
- The Story Of Our Lives by Mark Strand
- The Self and the Mulberry by Marvin Bell
- Your Poems on My Patio by Martina Reisz Newberry
- The Room by Mark Strand
- Yesterday’s Mishaps by Mary Etta Metcalf
- The River Has Its Memories by Mary Etta Metcalf
- Yes Dear by Mary Etta Metcalf
- The River by Mark Olynyk
- Words Unspoken by Mark Olynyk
- The Remains by Mark Strand
- Woman With Parasol by Martin Willitts Jr.
- The Poetic Principle by Mark Olynyk
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- Where Have We All Gone by Mary Etta Metcalf
- The joyful things in life by Martin Smith
- What is Poetry? by Mark Olynyk
- The Frantic by Mark Miller
- Wednesday by Marvin Bell
- The End of the Argument by Martina Reisz Newberry
More external links (open in a new tab):
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Yahoo– yes, it’s still around, amazingly, miraculously, incredibly, but now it seems to be powered by Bing.
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Aeschylus (525 Before Christ to 456 B.C.) was an ancient Greek author of Greek tragedy, and is often described as the father of tragedy. Academics’ knowledge of the genre begins with his work, and understanding of earlier Greek tragedy is largely based on inferences made from reading his surviving plays. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in the theatre and allowed conflict among them.