I name you Prometheus, for your eyes
And Aphrodite, for your smile
From your fiery sons, great wars shall arise
Your daughters Helens all the while
In love, you bring us the fire of the gods
Your children light it on the earth
Dare we, mortals, fight such terrible odds
As would then be brought by their birth?
Better, then, that your beauty perish
Or better that the world be torn?
Your face is a gift that all should cherish
Your fate, Pandora, cannot be borne