**, what noise? Ahhh 'tis but the wind disturbing
A precarious balance. Well I know
This barren waste holds naught but air and rock,
For once again has wrath and anger pricked
The mind of Zeus to vengeance, and bans He
Now all visitations. No more shall the
Daughters of Oceanos come to speed
The hours with mild discourse. No longer shall
Their beauty bless my days. The weight of isolation
Does so press upon me that the vain and
Servile babblings of Hermes would be welcome
But His voice forbids it. And these craggy
Towers wrought of Nature cruelly do
Bar the simple pleasures of rambling goat
And song full bird, for no beast may attain
These heights save one, my feathered torment. Half
My time is spent, half is yet to come, and
Darkly do my spirits waver. Is it
Not better to give to Zeus His want and
End this agony, than to grieve the trials
Of stubborn opposition? Would it not
Better serve my purpose to be free these
Fast fettering chains? Oh how dreary do
These weary thoughts color the mind, yet how
Quickly do they fade in the light of immortality.
It is far more wise to own this vile *******
Than bend to a raging will. Well I see
The coming of His pains and my release,
And the certain knowledge of those days steels me
To endure.