Explore "From the Prometheus Vinctus of Æschylus" by Lord Byron on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Great Jove, to whose almighty throne / Both gods and mortals homage pay, / Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, / Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. / Oft shall the sacred victim fall / In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; / My voice shall raise no impious strain / 'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main.
How different now thy joyless fate, / Since first Hesione thy bride, / When placed aloft in godlike state, / The blushing beauty by thy side, / Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smiled, / And mirthful strains the hours beguiled; / The Nymphs and Tritons danced around, / Nor yet thy doom was fix'd, nor Jove relentless frown'd.