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Complete Works of Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Page 19

by Elizabeth Barrett Browning


  And callest too by name the curse that came

  From Here unaware,

  To waste and pierce me with its maddening goad?

  Ah — ah — I leap

  With the pang of the hungry — I bound on the road —

  I am driven by my doom —

  I am overcome

  By the wrath of an enemy strong and deep!

  Are any of those who have tasted pain,

  Alas! as wretched as I?

  Now tell me plain, doth aught remain

  For my soul to endure beneath the sky?

  Is there any help to be holpen by?

  If knowledge be in thee, let it be said!

  Cry aloud — cry

  To the wandering, woful maid!

  Prometheus. Whatever thou wouldst learn I will declare, —

  No riddle upon my lips, but such straight words

  As friends should use to each other when they talk.

  Thou seest Prometheus, who gave mortals fire.

  Io. O common Help of all men, known of all,

  O miserable Prometheus, — for what cause

  Dost thou endure thus?

  Prometheus. I have done with wail

  For my own griefs, but lately.

  Io. Wilt thou not

  Vouchsafe the boon to me?

  Prometheus. Say what thou wilt,

  For I vouchsafe all.

  Io. Speak then, and reveal

  Who shut thee in this chasm.

  Prometheus. The will of Zeus,

  The hand of his Hephaestus.

  Io. And what crime

  Dost expiate so?

  Prometheus. Enough for thee I have told

  In so much only.

  Io. Nay, but show besides

  The limit of my wandering, and the time

  Which yet is lacking to fulfil my grief.

  Prometheus. Why, not to know were better than to know

  For such as thou.

  Io. Beseech thee, blind me not

  To that which I must suffer.

  Prometheus. If I do,

  The reason is not that I grudge a boon.

  Io. What reason, then, prevents thy speaking out?

  Prometheus. No grudging; but a fear to break thine heart.

  Io. Less care for me, I pray thee. Certainty

  I count for advantage.

  Prometheus. Thou wilt have it so,

  And therefore I must speak. Now hear —

  Chorus. Not yet.

  Give half the guerdon my way. Let us learn

  First, what the curse is that befell the maid, —

  Her own voice telling her own wasting woes:

  The sequence of that anguish shall await

  The teaching of thy lips.

  Prometheus. It doth behove

  That thou, Maid Io, shouldst vouchsafe to these

  The grace they pray, — the more, because they are called

  Thy father’s sisters: since to open out

  And mourn out grief where it is possible

  To draw a tear from the audience, is a work

  That pays its own price well.

  Io. I cannot choose

  But trust you, nymphs, and tell you all ye ask,

  In clear words — though I sob amid my speech

  In speaking of the storm-curse sent from Zeus,

  And of my beauty, from what height it took

  Its swoop on me, poor wretch! left thus deformed

  And monstrous to your eyes. For evermore

  Around my virgin-chamber, wandering went

  The nightly visions which entreated me

  With syllabled smooth sweetness.— “Blessed maid,

  Why lengthen out thy maiden hours when fate

  Permits the noblest spousal in the world?

  When Zeus burns with the arrow of thy love

  And fain would touch thy beauty? — Maiden, thou

  Despise not Zeus! depart to Lerne’s mead

  That’s green around thy father’s flocks and stalls,

  Until the passion of the heavenly Eye

  Be quenched in sight.” Such dreams did all night long

  Constrain me — me, unhappy! — till I dared

  To tell my father how they trod the dark

  With visionary steps. Whereat he sent

  His frequent heralds to the Pythian fane,

  And also to Dodona, and inquired

  How best, by act or speech, to please the gods.

  The same returning brought back oracles

  Of doubtful sense, indefinite response,

  Dark to interpret; but at last there came

  To Inachus an answer that was clear,

  Thrown straight as any bolt, and spoken out —

  This— “he should drive me from my home and land

  And bid me wander to the extreme verge

  Of all the earth — or, if he willed it not,

  Should have a thunder with a fiery eye

  Leap straight from Zeus to burn up all his race

  To the last root of it.” By which Loxian word

  Subdued, he drove me forth and shut me out,

  He loth, me loth, — but Zeus’s violent bit

  Compelled him to the deed: when instantly

  My body and soul were changed and distraught,

  And, horned as ye see, and spurred along

  By the fanged insect, with a maniac leap

  I rushed on to Cenchrea’s limpid stream

  And Lerne’s fountain-water. There, the earth-born,

  The herdsman Argus, most immitigable

  Of wrath, did find me out, and track me out

  With countless eyes set staring at my steps:

  And though an unexpected sudden doom

  Drew him from life, I, curse-tormented still,

  Am driven from land to land before the scourge

  The gods hold o’er me. So thou hast heard the past,

  And if a bitter future thou canst tell,

  Speak on. I charge thee, do not flatter me

  Through pity, with false words; for, in my mind,

  Deceiving works more shame than torturing doth.

  Chorus.

  Ah! silence here!

  Nevermore, nevermore

  Would I languish for

  The stranger’s word

  To thrill in mine ear —

  Nevermore for the wrong and the woe and the fear

  So hard to behold,

  So cruel to bear,

  Piercing my soul with a double-edged sword

  Of a sliding cold.

  Ah Fate! ah me!

  I shudder to see

  This wandering maid in her agony.

  Prometheus. Grief is too quick in thee and fear too full:

  Be patient till thou hast learnt the rest.

  Chorus. Speak: teach

  To those who are sad already, it seems sweet,

  By clear foreknowledge to make perfect, pain.

  Prometheus. The boon ye asked me first was lightly won, —

  For first ye asked the story of this maid’s grief

  As her own lips might tell it. Now remains

  To list what other sorrows she so young

  Must bear from Here. Inachus’s child,

  O thou! drop down thy soul my weighty words,

  And measure out the landmarks which are set

  To end thy wandering. Toward the orient sun

  First turn thy face from mine and journey on

  Along the desert flats till thou shalt come

  Where Scythia’s shepherd peoples dwell aloft,

  Perched in wheeled waggons under woven roofs,

  And twang the rapid arrow past the bow —

  Approach them not; but siding in thy course

  The rugged shore-rocks resonant to the sea,

  Depart that country. On the left hand dwell

  The iron-workers, called the Chalybes,

  Of whom beware, for certes they are uncouth

  And n
owise bland to strangers. Reaching so

  The stream Hybristes (well the scorner called),

  Attempt no passage, — it is hard to pass, —

  Or ere thou come to Caucasus itself,

  That highest of mountains, where the river leaps

  The precipice in his strength. Thou must toil up

  Those mountain-tops that neighbour with the stars,

  And tread the south way, and draw near, at last,

  The Amazonian host that hateth man,

  Inhabitants of Themiscyra, close

  Upon Thermodon, where the sea’s rough jaw

  Doth gnash at Salmydessa and provide

  A cruel host to seamen, and to ships

  A stepdame. They with unreluctant hand

  Shall lead thee on and on, till thou arrive

  Just where the ocean-gates show narrowest

  On the Cimmerian isthmus. Leaving which,

  Behoves thee swim with fortitude of soul

  The strait Maeotis. Ay, and evermore

  That traverse shall be famous on men’s lips,

  That strait, called Bosphorus, the horned-one’s road,

  So named because of thee, who so wilt pass

  From Europe’s plain to Asia’s continent.

  How think ye, nymphs? the king of gods appears

  Impartial in ferocious deeds? Behold!

  The god desirous of this mortal’s love

  Hath cursed her with these wanderings. Ah, fair child,

  Thou hast met a bitter groom for bridal troth!

  For all thou yet hast heard can only prove

  The incompleted prelude of thy doom.

  Io. Ah, ah!

  Prometheus. Is ‘t thy turn, now, to shriek and moan?

  How wilt thou, when thou hast hearkened what remains?

  Chorus. Besides the grief thou hast told can aught remain?

  Prometheus. A sea — of foredoomed evil worked to storm.

  Io. What boots my life, then? why not cast myself

  Down headlong from this miserable rock,

  That, dashed against the flats, I may redeem

  My soul from sorrow? Better once to die

  Than day by day to suffer.

  Prometheus. Verily,

  It would be hard for thee to bear my woe

  For whom it is appointed not to die.

  Death frees from woe: but I before me see

  In all my far prevision not a bound

  To all I suffer, ere that Zeus shall fall

  From being a king.

  Io. And can it ever be

  That Zeus shall fall from empire?

  Prometheus. Thou, methinks,

  Wouldst take some joy to see it.

  Io. Could I choose?

  I who endure such pangs now, by that god!

  Prometheus. Learn from me, therefore, that the event shall be.

  Io. By whom shall his imperial sceptred hand

  Be emptied so?

  Prometheus. Himself shall spoil himself,

  Through his idiotic counsels.

  Io. How? declare:

  Unless the word bring evil.

  Prometheus. He shall wed;

  And in the marriage-bond be joined to grief.

  Io. A heavenly bride — or human? Speak it out

  If it be utterable.

  Prometheus. Why should I say which?

  It ought not to be uttered, verily.

  Io. Then

  It is his wife shall tear him from his throne?

  Prometheus. It is his wife shall bear a son to him,

  More mighty than the father.

  Io. From this doom

  Hath he no refuge?

  Prometheus. None: or ere that I,

  Loosed from these fetters —

  Io. Yea — but who shall loose

  While Zeus is adverse?

  Prometheus. One who is born of thee:

  It is ordained so.

  Io. What is this thou sayest?

  A son of mine shall liberate thee from woe?

  Prometheus. After ten generations, count three more,

  And find him in the third.

  Io. The oracle

  Remains obscure.

  Prometheus. And search it not, to learn

  Thine own griefs from it.

  Io. Point me not to a good,

  To leave me straight bereaved.

  Prometheus. I am prepared

  To grant thee one of two things.

  Io. But which two?

  Set them before me; grant me power to choose.

  Prometheus. I grant it, choose now: shall I name aloud

  What griefs remain to wound thee, or what hand

  Shall save me out of mine?

  Chorus. Vouchsafe, O god,

  The one grace of the twain to her who prays;

  The next to me; and turn back neither prayer

  Dishonour’d by denial. To herself

  Recount the future wandering of her feet;

  Then point me to the looser of thy chain,

  Because I yearn to know him.

  Prometheus. Since ye will,

  Of absolute will, this knowledge, I will set

  No contrary against it, nor keep back

  A word of all ye ask for. Io, first

  To thee I must relate thy wandering course

  Far winding. As I tell it, write it down

  In thy soul’s book of memories. When thou hast past

  The refluent bound that parts two continents,

  Track on the footsteps of the orient sun

  In his own fire, across the roar of seas, —

  Fly till thou hast reached the Gorgonaean flats

  Beside Cisthene. There, the Phorcides,

  Three ancient maidens, live, with shape of swan,

  One tooth between them, and one common eye:

  On whom the sun doth never look at all

  With all his rays, nor evermore the moon

  When she looks through the night. Anear to whom

  Are the Gorgon sisters three, enclothed with wings,

  With twisted snakes for ringlets, man-abhorred:

  There is no mortal gazes in their face

  And gazing can breathe on. I speak of such

  To guard thee from their horror. Ay, and list

  Another tale of a dreadful sight; beware

  The Griffins, those unbarking dogs of Zeus,

  Those sharp-mouthed dogs! — and the Arimaspian host

  Of one-eyed horsemen, habiting beside

  The river of Pluto that runs bright with gold:

  Approach them not, beseech thee! Presently

  Thou’lt come to a distant land, a dusky tribe

  Of dwellers at the fountain of the Sun,

  Whence flows the river AEthiops; wind along

  Its banks and turn off at the cataracts,

  Just as the Nile pours from the Bybline hills

  His holy and sweet wave; his course shall guide

  Thine own to that triangular Nile-ground

  Where, Io, is ordained for thee and thine

  A lengthened exile. Have I said in this

  Aught darkly or incompletely? — now repeat

  The question, make the knowledge fuller! Lo,

  I have more leisure than I covet, here.

  Chorus. If thou canst tell us aught that’s left untold,

  Or loosely told, of her most dreary flight,

  Declare it straight: but if thou hast uttered all,

  Grant us that latter grace for which we prayed,

  Remembering how we prayed it.

  Prometheus. She has heard

  The uttermost of her wandering. There it ends.

  But that she may be certain not to have heard

  All vainly, I will speak what she endured

  Ere coming hither, and invoke the past

  To prove my prescience true. And so — to leave

  A multitude of words and pass at once

  To the subject of thy course �
� when thou hadst gone

  To those Molossian plains which sweep around

  Dodona shouldering Heaven, whereby the fane

  Of Zeus Thesprotian keepeth oracle,

  And, wonder past belief, where oaks do wave

  Articulate adjurations — (ay, the same

  Saluted thee in no perplexed phrase

  But clear with glory, noble wife of Zeus

  That shouldst be, — there some sweetness took thy sense!)

  Thou didst rush further onward, stung along

  The ocean-shore, toward Rhea’s mighty bay

  And, tost back from it, wast tost to it again

  In stormy evolution: — and, know well,

  In coming time that hollow of the sea

  Shall bear the name Ionian and present

  A monument of Io’s passage through

  Unto all mortals. Be these words the signs

  Of my soul’s power to look beyond the veil

  Of visible things. The rest, to you and her

  I will declare in common audience, nymphs,

  Returning thither where my speech brake off.

  There is a town Canobus, built upon

  The earth’s fair margin at the mouth of Nile

  And on the mound washed up by it; Io, there

  Shall Zeus give back to thee thy perfect mind,

  And only by the pressure and the touch

  Of a hand not terrible; and thou to Zeus

  Shalt bear a dusky son who shall be called

  Thence, Epaphus, Touched. That son shall pluck the fruit

  Of all that land wide-watered by the flow

  Of Nile; but after him, when counting out

  As far as the fifth full generation, then

  Full fifty maidens, a fair woman-race,

  Shall back to Argos turn reluctantly,

  To fly the proffered nuptials of their kin,

  Their father’s brothers. These being passion struck,

  Like falcons bearing hard on flying doves,

  Shall follow, hunting at a quarry of love

  They should not hunt; till envious Heaven maintain

  A curse betwixt that beauty and their desire,

  And Greece receive them, to be overcome

 

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