IO in «Der gefesselte Prometheus» I.

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    Act III 

    Io, Prometheus and the Chorus

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    26187640 9783843050951 XlIO: What country? What race? who is he,
    ⁠This man, whom, rock-bound, I survey,
    ⁠Storm-battered? What trespass hath thee
    ⁠Thus doomed to destruction? Oh, say,
    To what region of earth have I wandered, forlorn?
    ⁠Ah me! The dire anguish! Ah me!
    ⁠Again the barbed pest doth assail!
    ⁠Thou phantom of Argos, earth-born;
    ⁠Avert him, O earth! Ah, I quail, ⁠
    The herdsman beholding with myriad eyes.
    With crafty look, onward, still onward he hies;
    Not even in death is he hid 'neath the earth;
    ⁠But, e'en from the shades coming back,
    He hounds me, forlorn one, in anguish of dearth,
    To roam by the sea-waves' salt track.
    Still droneth the wax-moulded reed,
    ⁠Shrill-piping, a sleep-breathing strain. ⁠
    ⁠Ah me! The dire anguish! Woe! Woe!
    Ah, whither on earth do these far-roamings lead?
    What trespass canst find, son of Kronos, in me,
    ⁠That thou yokest me ever to pain?
    ⁠Woe! Ah, woe!
    And wherefore with brize-driven fear torture so
    ⁠A wretchèd one, phrenzied in brain?
    Oh burn me with fire, or o'erwhelm 'neath the soil,
    Or fling me to ravenous beasts of the sea.
    Begrudge not, O lord! to my prayers to give heed. ⁠
    Enough hath out-worn me my much-roaming toil.
    Nor wist I from torment how may I be freed.
    The voice dost thou hear of the cow-horned maid?
    [...] ⁠Whence know'st thou to speak my sire's name? ⁠
    ⁠Oh answer a wretched one's prayer;—
    ⁠Ah me! the dire anguish! Woe! Woe!
    Who art thou, poor wretch, who dost truly proclaim
    My plague, with its phrenzying torture, that came
    ⁠From Zeus and doth sting to despair?
    ⁠Woe! ah woe!
    With boundings, by food-craving anguish pursued,
    ⁠On rushing with passionate throe,
    By wrathful devices of Hera subdued,
    I come. Of the wretched are any who know ⁠
    Such pangs as I suffer? But now by clear sign,
    Reveal what for me yet remaineth to bear;
    What cure for my plague. If such knowledge be thine,
    Forthwith to the sad-roaming maiden declare.

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