PROMETHEUS: 
I weigh not what ye do, but what ye suffer, 480
Being evil.  Cruel was the power which called
You, or aught else so wretched, into light.

THIRD FURY: 
Thou think’st we will live through thee, one by one,
Like animal life, and though we can obscure not
The soul which burns within, that we will dwell 485
Beside it, like a vain loud multitude
Vexing the self-content of wisest men: 
That we will be dread thought beneath thy brain,
And foul desire round thine astonished heart,
And blood within thy labyrinthine veins 490
Crawling like agony?

PROMETHEUS: 
Why, ye are thus now;
Yet am I king over myself, and rule
The torturing and conflicting throngs within,
As Jove rules you when Hell grows mutinous.

CHORUS OF FURIES: 
From the ends of the earth, from the ends of the earth, 495
Where the night has its grave and the morning its birth,
Come, come, come! 
Oh, ye who shake hills with the scream of your mirth,
When cities sink howling in ruin; and ye
Who with wingless footsteps trample the sea, 500
And close upon Shipwreck and Famine’s track,
Sit chattering with joy on the foodless wreck;
Come, come, come! 
Leave the bed, low, cold, and red,
Strewed beneath a nation dead; 505
Leave the hatred, as in ashes
Fire is left for future burning: 
It will burst in bloodier flashes
When ye stir it, soon returning: 
Leave the self-contempt implanted 510
In young spirits, sense-enchanted,
Misery’s yet unkindled fuel: 
Leave Hell’s secrets half unchanted
To the maniac dreamer; cruel
More than ye can be with hate 515
Is he with fear. 
Come, come, come! 
We are steaming up from Hell’s wide gate
And we burthen the blast of the atmosphere,
But vainly we toil till ye come here. 520

IONE: 
Sister, I hear the thunder of new wings.

PANTHEA: 
These solid mountains quiver with the sound
Even as the tremulous air:  their shadows make
The space within my plumes more black than night.

FIRST FURY: 
Your call was as a winged car, 525
Driven on whirlwinds fast and far;
It rapped us from red gulfs of war.

SECOND FURY: 
From wide cities, famine-wasted;

THIRD FURY: 
Groans half heard, and blood untasted;

FOURTH FURY: 
Kingly conclaves stern and cold, 530
Where blood with gold is bought and sold;

FIFTH FURY: 
From the furnace, white and hot,
In which—­

A FURY: 
Speak not:  whisper not: 
I know all that ye would tell,
But to speak might break the spell 535
Which must bend the Invincible,
The stern of thought;
He yet defies the deepest power of Hell.