Bridges Robert

The Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Excluding the Eight Dramas


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And taste the mortal joy; since not in heaven

       Among our easeful gods hath facile time

       A touch so keen, to wake such love of life

       As stirs the frail and careful being, who here, 20

       The king of sorrows, melancholy man,

       Bows at his labour, but in heart erect

       A god stands, nor for any gift of god

       Would barter his immortal-hearted prime.

       Could I but win this world from Zeus for mine,

       With not a god to vex my happy rule,

       I would inhabit here and leave high heaven:

       So much I love it and its race of men,{4}

       Even as he hates them, hates both them, and me

       For loving what he hates, and would destroy me, 30

       Outcast in the scorn of all his cringing crew,

       For daring but to save what he would slay:

       And me must first destroy. Thus he denieth

       My heart's wish, thus my counsel sets at naught,

       Which him saved once, when all at stake he stood

       Uprisen in rebellion to overthrow

       The elderseated Titans, for I that day

       Gave him the counsels which his foes despised.

       Unhappy they, who had still their blissful seats

       Preserved and their Olympian majesty, 40

       Had they been one with me. Alas, my kin!

       But he, when he had taken the throne and chained

       His foes in wasteful Tartarus, said no more

       Where is Prometheus our wise counsellor?

       What saith Prometheus? tell us, O Prometheus,

       What Fate requires! but waxing confident

       And wanton, as a youth first tasting power,

       He wrecked the timeless monuments of heaven,

       The witness of the wisdom of the gods,

       And making all about him new, beyond 50

       Determined to destroy the race of men,

       And that create afresh or else have none.

       Then his vain mind imagined a device,

       And at his bidding all the opposèd winds

       Blew, and the scattered clouds and furlèd snows,

       From every part of heaven together flying,

       He with brute hands in huge disorder heaped:

       They with the winds' weight and his angry breath

       Were thawed: in cataracts they fell, and earth

       In darkness deep and whelmèd tempest lay, 60

       Drowned 'neath the waters. Yet on the mountain-tops

       Some few escaped, and some, thus warned by me,

       Made shift to live in vessels which outrode

       The season and the fury of the flood.{5}

       And when his rain was spent and from clear skies

       Zeus looking down upon the watery world,

       Beheld these few, the remnant of mankind,

       Who yet stood up and breathed; he next withdrew

       The seeds of fire, that else had still lain hid

       In withered branch and the blue flakes of flint 70

       For man to exact and use, but these withdrawn,

       Man with the brutes degraded would be man

       No more; and so the tyrant was content.

       But I, despised again, again upheld

       The weak, and pitying them sent sweet Hope,

       Bearer of dreams, enchantress fond and kind,

       From heaven descending on the unhindered rays

       Of every star, to cheer with visions fair

       Their unamending pains. And now this day

       Behold I come bearing the seal of all 80

       Which Hope had promised: for within this reed

       A prisoner I bring them stolen from heaven,

       The flash of mastering fire, and it have borne

       So swift to earth, that when yon noontide sun

       Rose from the sea at morning I was by,

       And unperceived of Hêlios plunged the point

       I' the burning axle, and withdrew a tongue

       Of breathing flame, which lives to leap on earth

       For man the father of all fire to come.

       And hither have I brought it even to Argos 90

       Unto king Inachus, him having chosen

       Above all mortals to receive my gift:

       For he is hopeful, careful, wise, and brave.

       He first, when first the floods left bare the land,

       Grew warm with enterprise, and gathered men

       Together, and disposed their various tasks

       For common weal combined; for soon were seen

       The long straight channels dwindling on the plain,

       Which slow from stagnant pool and wide morass

       The pestilent waters to the rivers bore: 100{6}

       Then in the ruined dwellings and old tombs

       He dug, unbedding from the wormèd ooze

       Vessels and tools of trade and husbandry;

       Wherewith, all seasonable works restored,

       Oil made he and wine anew, and taught mankind

       To live not brutally though without fire,

       Tending their flocks and herds and weaving wool,

       Living on fruit and milk and shepherds' fare,

       Till time should bring back flame to smithy and hearth,

       Or Zeus relent. Now at these gates I stand, 110

       At this mid hour, when Inachus comes forth

       To offer sacrifice unto his foe.

       For never hath his faithful zeal forborne

       To pay the power, though hard, that rules the world

       The smokeless sacrifice; which first to-day

       Shall smoke, and rise at heaven in flame to brave

       The baffled god. See here a servant bears

       For the cold altar ceremonial wood:

       My shepherd's cloak will serve me for disguise.

      SERVANT.

      With much toil have I hewn these sapless logs. 120

       Pr. But toil brings health, and health is happiness.

       Serv. Here's one I know not—nay, how came he here

       Unseen by me? I pray thee, stranger, tell me

       What wouldst thou at the house of Inachus?

       Pr. Intruders, friend, and travellers have glib tongues,

       Silence will question such.

       Serv. If 'tis a message,

       To-day is not thy day—who sent thee hither?

       Pr. The business of my leisure was well guessed: