When he hath fallen, shall Zeus at length be taught "Twixt power and thrall how wide a difference lies. Chorus. What dost thou wish, against thy foe thou speak'st? Prometheus. Yea, what I wish, but what shall be fulfilled. Chorus. Must we then think that Zeus shall be o'ercome? Prometheus. Aye, and shall suffer fiercer pains than mine. Chorus. How canst thou speak such words, and tremble not? Prometheus. What should I fear, whose fate is not to die? Chorus. But he may doom thee to some direr pangs. Prometheus. I challenge him:-this soul is armed for all. Those are the wisest, who avert his wrath By due submission.

Chorus.

Prometheus.

Hermes.

Ye may bow you down,

And pray, and oil the ruler's troubled soul

With flattering words; to me he's less than nought.
Let him rule now, and do his little will:

His reign shall not be long.

But I behold

Hither approach the lacquey-slave of Zeus,
His newest majesty's new courier:

He brings, be sure, some tidings yet unheard.

ENTER HERMES.

To thee I speak, bitterest of bitter tongues, Sinner against the gods, who hast purloined The heavenly fire, and given gifts to men: The Sire commandeth thee to say, what words Were those thou spakest, and what marriage bond Shall cast him from his throne ;-and tell me not In thine own riddling way, but plain and clear; Give me no double sense: thou knowest well Such answers soften not the ire of Zeus. Prometheus. It is a well-mouthed and a sapient speech, Such as befits the lacquey of the gods.

Ye are but young in power, and think that ye Dwell in scathless towers-have not I seen Two despots tumble from these very thrones ? And I shall see the third, who ruleth now, Basest and quickest fall. Can I, dost think, Tremble and crouch before these youngster gods? 'Tis further from my thoughts than thou canst tell. Go hie thee back the way thou camest here: For nothing thou shalt learn which thou hast asked. "Twas just by such perverse and erring words That thou didst bring on thee thy present woe. Prometheus. This plight, be sure, I would not change for thine, Thy gilded slavery. Far better 'tis to serve

Hermes.

Hermes.

This naked rock, than to run post for Zeus.

Thus must I rail at him who rails at me.

Thon seemest to take pleasure in thy plight.

Prometheus. Pleasure? such pleasure light on all my foes :--
And thee I number in the list of them.
Hast of thine evils aught to lay to me?

Hermes.

Prometheus. Yes, in one word, I hate the host of gods,

Who, when my hand hath helped them, wrong me thus.

Hermes. I see thou labourest with a dire disease.

Prometheus. Yes, the disease of hating who hate me.

Hermes. How hard would'st be to bear if thou did'st reign!
Prometheus. Alas!

Hermes. Zeus knows not such a word as this.

Prometheus. But lapse of years may teach him this and more.
Hermes. Hast thou not yet learned to control thy tongue ?
Prometheus. No; if I had I should not talk with slaves.

Hermes. Thou wilt not tell, it seems, what the Sire asks.
Prometheus. Thou think'st I must oblige so kind a friend?
Hermes. Thou mockest: dost thou take me for a child?
Prometheus. Yea, for a child, and yet more simple far,
If thou dost hope aught to extort from me.
There is no torment, nor no harsh device
Whereby he can compel me to divulge

Hermes.

My words, before he loose me from these bonds.
Aye, let the dazzling flame be downward hurled,
And with his white-winged snows, and direful claps
Of subterranean thunder, let him whelm

All nature in the storm, he ne'er shall force
Me to declare by whom his power must fall.
Hast thou said aught that can amend thy lot?
Prometheus. My course is weighed and pondered long ago.
Hermes. Endure, thou rash one, to submit thy thoughts
Unto thy present ills; at length be wise.
Prometheus. Thou troublest me in vain: were I a wave,
Thou might'st as soon persuade me. Let it not
Within thy thoughts have place, that I shall bend
To feminine obsequiousness, through fear
Of Zeus, thy master: shall beseech my foe
With womanly uplifting of mine hands,
To free me from these chains :-it cannot be.
I seem to speak words many, and in vain.
His heart nor melts nor softens at my prayers:
But as a new yoked colt, champing the bit,
He plunges, and against his bridle fights.
But he is lavish in perverseness weak:
For stubbornness, when wisdom backs it not,

Hermes.

Hath less account than none. Wherefore hear now,
If thou refuse obedience to my words,

What storm shall come upon thee, and what height
Of dread inevitable woe :-this cliff

The mighty Father first shall rend apart

With thunder and sharp lightning, and deep hide
Thy body, in the strong embrace of rocks.
Thus ages long shalt thou fulfil: then back
Into the light return, where the swift hound
Of Zeus, the murderous eagle, tearing wide
A gash across thy side, shall visit thee,
A daily guest unbidden, and shall feed
On thy dark liver. Look not for an end

Chorus.

Of all this woe, till some kind god be found
Willing to seek the dismal realms below,

And take thy pains upon him. Now advise ;-
My words are no vain threat, but said in sooth:
For the high tongue of Him who rules above
Uttereth no falsehood, but performs its words.
Look well and ponder-and persist no more
To choose thy self-will, and reject wise thoughts.
The words of Hermes to our ears convey

The sense of timely wisdom; they advise

Thy soul to leave its pride, and learn good counsel.
Consent 'tis folly to persist in sin.

Prometheus. What he would say I knew before :
Nor is it matter of complaint

Hermes.

Chorus.

Hermes.

That foe should suffer ill from foe.
Let therefore now descend
The two-edged curl of fire:
Let heaven with thunder rock
And with the wild winds howl:

Let the tempest wrench the earth
From its deep foundation-roots:
Let him fling the ocean waves
Boiling with their surge and spray
Round the courses of the stars:
Let him in his eddies fierce
Of the nether whirlwind, snatch
This my body, till it drop
In the blackening gulphs of hell:
All will not avail to crush me,

I can never die!

Ye hear his frenzy-prompted words.
Mad must he be, who vaunts in woe.

But ye who hitherto have shared
With pitying heart his troubles, hence
Quickly depart, lest even ye

By the loud bellowing thunder struck
Be of your sense bereft.
Speak better words, and counsel that
Which we may follow: this thy speech
Cannot be borne. Why orderest thou
So base an action? We will bear
With him, whatever is decreed.
Traitors we hate; no human crime
Is worthier to be shunned.

But yet remember what I say:
And blame not fortune, if ye fall
To fierce calamity a prey,

Nor say that Zeus hath you involved

In deadly danger unforeseen,

For ye are warned: not suddenly,
Nor stealthily, have ye too fallen
Into an endless net of woe

Which your own folly spread.

An awful interval follows: as if by one calling them, the clouds gather; strange and dreadful voices thicken; the storm is begun. The voice of Prometheus is heard

Prometheus. Not in threat,-in very deed

Reeleth now the tottering earth:
Bellows now the thunder near;
From the rifted heaven run out
Tendrils of far glittering flame :
From the plains the dust is soaring
In the whirlwind; all the breaths
Of all tempests leap and rush
One against the other roaring:
To the sky the deep is lifted.
Such a blast with terror armed
Down upon me cometh, charged
With the anger of the gods.

O my mother, dread and vast!
Who about the earth art cast,

Who the common light dost hold,

O thou Firmament, behold

Me thine offspring, how I suffer wrongful woes untold.

(The curtain drops.)

Thus our readers are in possession of the principal part of this most wonderful play. Thus they have a specimen of the Greek Drama. But it is a specimen only of one kind. All in it is superhuman. But let it not be thought that such was always the case. Our next chapter will bring before them three plays by the same author on the story of Agamemnon's family.

But let us conclude with a few remarks on the Prometheus Bound. Has not the reader felt ere this, that there is about it a strange air of mystery-a link of association with even high and holy things? This benefactor of human kind—the object of divine wrath-thus crucified on high-bears he not a dim resemblance to One other of whom we know? It is so-but how, we say not. We know that Eschylus was once accused of divulging the doctrines taught in the mysteries: we know that these mysteries contained many a fragment of ancient truth, pure in some degree from the overlaying of the popular superstition: may some primitive tradition have descended from the diluvian forefathers of the Grecian race-some part of the creed of man before the flood-may not the Prometheus Bound contain a ray, however confused and distorted, of that light, by which we are taught to believe heaven hath enlightened the world?

That world must be at an end before an answer can be given.

PIERS GAVESTON.

BY THOMAS FEATHERSTONE.

HIGH shone the summer sun

In his fierce meridian pride,

Where a noble range of wood and vale
Outstretches far and wide,

And the silver Avon pours along

Its clear and glittering stream,
Through sloping meads and thick dun woods,
Calm as an infant's dream.

But ere the sun that day

Returned to the crimson west,

The woods resounded the clang of strife,
And the wild-flower's bells were prest
With the heavy tramp of armed men-
Sternly on they strode,

To darken that land that smiled so fair,
With the stain of a victim's blood.

Around, on either hand,

Głoomed his murderers haught and high;

Stern Arundel, and Lancaster,

And Warwick's stout Earl Guy;

And there the doomed one stood,

Unfriended and alone,

But there was a smile in his scornful eye,
As cold and proud as their own.

Short shrift was yielded him,

Scant time for creed or prayer,

When the glittering axe swung round
In the bright and sunny air;

And the victim fell, but there was still
In the cold and glazing eye,

The same fixed gaze of pride and hate

A scorn that could not die!

Piers Gaveston, Earl of Cornwall, the minion of Edward II. was put to death by the rebel Barons, July 1, 1312, on Blacklow Hill, near Warwick, where a monument stands to record the

event.

Sonnet.

I CANNOT weigh my mind in the world's scales,
Nor look on gold with ever longing eyes,
Nor imitate in aught the worldly wise:
My heart is placed on that, which seldom fails
To give delight; the ever flowering vales,
The sighing woods, the silver-footed brooks;
These are my pleasures, these my fav'rite books,
In which I read kind nature's sweetest tales.
Flowers have for me a language and a love,
And babbling streams, a cadence sweet and low;
And when, forgetting this world's strife and woe,
I wander 'neath the deep shade of the grove,
I hear leaf kissing leaf,-a melting song;
Sweet as the music of an angel's tongue.

SIDNEY GILES.