PROMETHEUS BOUND
In the Cilician caves, a grisly fiend
With heads five-score, how he was quell'd amain,
Tempestuous Typhon. All the banded gods
He dared to battle, from prodigious jowls
Hissing terrific, while his eyes display'd
Glare of great lightnings, so as he would storm
By force Heaven's high supremacy, but soon
The bolt of Zeus that sleeps not found him out,
The downward-ruining thunder, quick with flame,
And reft him at a clap from all his vaunts 360
And swelling bravery. Full amidst it took him,
And charr'd, and blasted all his strength to nothing.
And now, a useless body unstrung, he lies
Hard by a narrow passage of the seas,
Under the roots of Etna crushed and cramm'd,
While over him, high on the peak, Hephaistos
Sits at his forge-work. Thence one day shall burst
Rivers of fire, with fierce jaws ravening up
The golden- fruited sweet Sicilian sward.
Such overflow of fury Typhon still
Shall cast up boiling, in discharges hot 370
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