LACHESIS. 
Sorely tried and sorely tempted,
From no agonies exempted,
In the penance of his trial,
And the discipline of pain;
Often by illusions cheated,
Often baffled and defeated
In the tasks to be completed,
He, by toil and self-denial,
To the highest shall attain.

ATROPOS. 
Tempt no more the noble schemer;
Bear unto some idle dreamer
This new toy and fascination,
This new dalliance and delight! 
To the garden where reposes
Epimetheus crowned with roses,
To the door that never closes
Upon pleasure and temptation,
Bring this vision of the night!

IV

THE AIR

HERMES (returning to Olympus.)
As lonely as the tower that he inhabits,
As firm and cold as are the crags about him,
Prometheus stands.  The thunderbolts of Zeus
Alone can move him; but the tender heart
Of Epimetheus, burning at white heat,
Hammers and flames like all his brother’s forges! 
Now as an arrow from Hyperion’s bow,
My errand done, I fly, I float, I soar
Into the air, returning to Olympus. 
O joy of motion!  O delight to cleave
The infinite realms of space, the liquid ether,
Through the warm sunshine and the cooling cloud,
Myself as light as sunbeam or as cloud! 
With one touch of my swift and winged feet,
I spurn the solid earth, and leave it rocking
As rocks the bough from which a bird takes wing.

V

THE HOUSE OF EPIMETHEUS

EPIMETHEUS. 
Beautiful apparition! go not hence! 
Surely thou art a Goddess, for thy voice
Is a celestial melody, and thy form
Self-poised as if it floated on the air!

PANDORA. 
No Goddess am I, nor of heavenly birth,
But a mere woman fashioned out of clay
And mortal as the rest.

EPIMETHEUS. 
Thy face is fair;
There is a wonder in thine azure eyes
That fascinates me.  Thy whole presence seems
A soft desire, a breathing thought of love. 
Say, would thy star like Merope’s grow dim
If thou shouldst wed beneath thee?

PANDORA. 
Ask me not;
I cannot answer thee.  I only know
The Gods have sent me hither.

EPIMETHEUS. 
I believe,
And thus believing am most fortunate. 
It was not Hermes led thee here, but Eros,
And swifter than his arrows were thine eyes
In wounding me.  There was no moment’s space
Between my seeing thee and loving thee. 
O, what a telltale face thou hast!  Again
I see the wonder in thy tender eyes.

PANDORA. 
They do but answer to the love in thine,
Yet secretly I wonder thou shouldst love me. 
Thou knowest me not.

EPIMETHEUS. 
Perhaps I know thee better
Than had I known thee longer.  Yet it seems
That I have always known thee, and but now
Have found thee.  Ah, I have been waiting long.