With countless eyes, set staring at my steps!—
An unexpected and most sudden doom
Drew him from life—but I—curse-stricken still,
Am driven from land to land before the scourge
That gods hold o'er me. So, thou hast heard the past,
And if the bitter future thou canst tell,
Speak on! I charge thee, do not flatter me
Through pity, with false words! for, in my mind,
Deceiving works more shame than torturing.
Chorus.
Hush! silence here!
Nevermore, nevermore,
Would I languish for
The stranger's word
To thrill mine ear!—
Nevermore for the wrong and the woe and the fear,
So hard to behold,
And so hard to bear,
To pierce my soul with a double-edged sword,
And a sliding cold!
Ah Fate!—ah me!—
I shudder to see
This wandering maid in her agony.
Prometheus. Grief is too quick in thee, and fear too full!
Be patient till thou hast learnt the rest!
Chorus. Speak—teach!—
To those who are sad already, it seems sweet,
By clear foreknowledge, to make perfect, pain.
