Great Jove, to whose almighty throne <br />Both gods and mortals homage pay, <br />Ne'er may my soul thy power disown, <br />Thy dread behests ne'er disobey. <br />Oft shall the sacred victim fall <br />In sea-girt Ocean's mossy hall; <br />My voice shall raise no impious strain <br />'Gainst him who rules the sky and azure main. <br /> <br />How different now thy joyless fate, <br />Since first Hesione thy bride, <br />When placed aloft in godlike state, <br />The blushing beauty by the side, <br />Thou sat'st, while reverend Ocean smiled, <br />And mirthful strains the hours beguiled; <br />The Nymphs and Tritons dances around, <br />Nor yet thy doom was fix'd, nor Jove relentless frown'd.<br /><br />George Gordon Byron<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/from-the-prometheus-vinctus-of-aeschylus/
