Pandora

12Jam signa ruendi His dedit7confusaque rursus Natura timet.

ow my divine heart throbs with joy—a hand divine Has form'd these finish'd limbs, celestial fire Darts thro' my veins, the choicest gifts of gods Are pour'd upon me—can I e'er forget Their splendid council in the flame-tipt clouds, When first from Vulcan's touch I sprang to life, And dazzled shrunk before their blaze of glory? Aloft on golden throne great Jove was seated, O'er his broad front the clustering tresses fell And mildly beam'd his eyes—arise, ye gods, His awful voice exclaim'd, arise and shed Your richest blessings on Pandora's form; He spake, majestic from his side arose The queen of heaven, around thy steps, she cried, Shall float a stately grace—with roses crown'd The laughter-loving Venus next advanc'd Light as the summer breeze, and smiling said O'er thy fair cheeks I cast a crimson tint, Thy melting eyes shall swim in softest lustre, Thy swelling breasts be moulded to the form Of Hebe's cup, be white as drifted snow— And while she spake, a thousand odours rose, A thousand sportive loves brisk fluttering round Fann'd the warm air—The god with golden locks Then came—be eloquent as fair, he cried, For what avails the radiance of thine eyes The blossoms of thy cheeks, if honied words Dwell not upon those lips. Thy speech shall fall Soft as the dews of eve; then circling gods Prest on me to bestow their varied honours; Enough, cried Jove, he's perfect—take this casket Fast bound in glittering ribs, and bear it hence To where Prometheus 'bides—beware, O nymph, To ope its silver clasps—I bow'd obedient— This casket!—is Prometheus then so lov'd? Daring Prometheus?—from the fiery cope He stole forbidden flames—the vulture tore His bleeding heart—and do the gods reward him? To him they doom Pandora, doom to him The rare device this adamant enfolds— Why is it thus?—what enviable gift Is here contain'd?—not look at it!—O Jove, Where was the goddess of the tinted arch Thy wonted messenger?—why, to my hands Consign the prize?—perchance the god was sportive And wish'd to try me—'tis an empty casket— Or if 'tis not, its secret store perhaps Would prove to me a bane—I'll think no more on't— How broad the way, 'tis trac'd with milky light— Lo! there's the earth, it floats in circling air, Its towering hills are tipt with steady light, In yon dark shades the billowy waters lurk, Once huge and shapeless, now a viewless mind Has mov'd its jarring atoms, rang'd its forms, And o'er its fertile surface scatter'd wide, The glow of life—ah, how I long to stray Amid its flowery vales—there quiet dwells— No more the giant-arms high heap the mountains To reach this starry bridge, no more the lightnings Flash horribly around—all, all is peace— I soon shall reach it—how the fam'd Prometheus Will gaze enamour'd on my youthful charms. What?—can Jove send him too a nobler gift Than fair Pandora?—sure the casket holds Ambrosial food—that makes the gods immortal— Would I could taste it—nay, 'tis poison rather— O deep revenge! and thus to snatch Prometheus Delighted from my arms—it cannot be— Jove bade me bless the earth, he bade me rear A blooming offspring—would he slay my husband?— Ah were it thus?—I'll ope it—shall I thwart The dread commands of heaven?—some dire distress Would fall upon me—Think what dreadful woes Prometheus suffered—think what endless pangs Torment the Titans—theirs were crimes indeed— But what is this?—Among the other gods I well remember Mars; he cast upon me A furious look, be bold, he cried, O maid Be bold above thy sex—and now's the time— O'er the vast sky a solemn silence broods, No eye beholds me, I've already past The monsters of the air, the fiery archer, The flaming goat, the writhing serpent's folds; Whate'er the casket holds it cannot 'scape me— What if it 'scapes, and Jove should know my guilt? Sure this all-perfect form, these smiles of love, The touching accents of my rosy lips May win forgiveness from the thunderer's self— Yes, yes, the god expects my disobedience— I tremble still—assist me Mars—'tis done.

What!—empty!—empty!—yet methought a wind As of a thousand rushing wings blew swift Athwart my face—ah me! what griefly forms Float in the air—see, see, they horrid smile And mocking point at me—speak, speak, who are ye?

Thanks to her who gave us birth Eager sailing to the earth, We haste to act the deeds of woe And prey on all that breathes below.

PANDORA.

Ah me! who are ye? wretched, wretched woman!

Bloody Strife, and gnawing Care, Pride and Hatred and Despair Hover o'er thee in the air, We haste to act the deeds of woe And prey on all that breathes below.

PANDORA.

What have I done?—hush, hush, a softer sound!

Hear, thou luckless maiden, hear, Cease thy sorrow, cease thy fear, Tho' yon grim troop on mortal shore Haste the tide of grief to pour, Hope shall join the gloomy throng, Hope shall breathe her soothing song, And bending o'er the wounded heart Gently steal the poison'd dart, Hope shall bid the tempest cease And whisper future hours of peace.