Thou dost inherit Our father's strength, and I our mother's weakness: The softness of the Oceanides, The yielding nature that cannot resist.
PROMETHEUS.
Because thou wilt not.
EPIMETHEUS.
Nay; because I cannot.
PROMETHEUS.
Assert thyself; rise up to thy full height; Shake from thy soul these dreams effeminate, These passions born of indolence and ease.
Resolve, and thou art free.

But breathe the air Of mountains, and their unapproachable summits Will lift thee to the level of themselves.
EPIMETHEUS.
The roar of forests and of waterfalls, The rushing of a mighty wind, with loud And undistinguishable voices calling, Are in my ear! PROMETHEUS.
O, listen and obey.
EPIMETHEUS.
Thou leadest me as a child, I follow thee.
(They go out.) CHORUS OF OREADES.
Centuries old are the mountains; Their foreheads wrinkled and rifted Helios crowns by day, Pallid Selene by night; From their bosoms uptossed The snows are driven and drifted, Like Tithonus' beard Streaming dishevelled and white.
Thunder and tempest of wind Their trumpets blow in the vastness; Phantoms of mist and rain, Cloud and the shadow of cloud, Pass and repass by the gates Of their inaccessible fastness; Ever unmoved they stand, Solemn, eternal, and proud, VOICES OF THE WATERS.
Flooded by rain and snow In their inexhaustible sources, Swollen by affluent streams Hurrying onward and hurled Headlong over the crags, The impetuous water-courses, Rush and roar and plunge Down to the nethermost world.
Say, have the solid rocks Into streams of silver been melted, Flowing over the plains, Spreading to lakes in the fields?
Or have the mountains, the giants, The ice-helmed, the forest-belted, Scattered their arms abroad; Flung in the meadows their shields?
VOICES OF THE WINDS.
High on their turreted cliffs That bolts of thunder have shattered, Storm-winds muster and blow Trumpets of terrible breath; Then from the gateways rush, And before them routed and scattered Sullen the cloud-rack flies, Pale with the pallor of death.
Onward the hurricane rides, And flee for shelter the shepherds; White are the frightened leaves, Harvests with terror are white; Panic seizes the herds, And even the lions and leopards, Prowling no longer for prey, Crouch in their caverns with fright.
VOICES OF THE FOREST.
Guarding the mountains around Majestic the forests are standing, Bright are their crested helms, Dark is their armor of leaves; Filled with the breath of freedom Each bosom subsiding, expanding, Now like the ocean sinks, Now like the ocean upheaves.
Planted firm on the rock, With foreheads stern and defiant, Loud they shout to the winds, Loud to the tempest they call; Naught but Olympian thunders, That blasted Titan and Giant, Them can uproot and o'erthrow, Shaking the earth with their fall.
CHORUS OF OREADES.
These are the Voices Three Of winds and forests and fountains, Voices of earth and of air, Murmur and rushing of streams, Making together one sound, The mysterious voice of the mountains, Waking the sluggard that sleeps, Waking the dreamer of dreams.
These are the Voices Three, That speak of endless endeavor, Speak of endurance and strength, Triumph and fulness of fame, Sounding about the world, An inspiration forever, Stirring the hearts of men, Shaping their end and their aim.
VII THE HOUSE OF EPIMETHEUS PANDORA.
Left to myself I wander as I will, And as my fancy leads me, through this house, Nor could I ask a dwelling more complete Were I indeed the Goddess that he deems me.
No mansion of Olympus, framed to be The habitation of the Immortal Gods, Can be more beautiful.

And this is mine And more than this, the love wherewith he crowns me.
As if impelled by powers invisible And irresistible, my steps return Unto this spacious hall.

All corridors And passages lead hither, and all doors But open into it.

Yon mysterious chest Attracts and fascinates me.