⁠Prometheus, unto thee;
⁠My steed's wing'd course by counsel bending;
⁠Of bridle he is free.
⁠Behold, I sorrow in thy woe!
⁠I ween that mutual kindred so
⁠Impels me; but, without our line,
⁠The fate of none would I combine
⁠With blessing, more than thine.
⁠My faithfulness thy soul will know;
⁠No flatteries false my lips attend;
⁠Then, can I serve thee, troubled thus?
⁠Thou shalt not say thou hast a friend
⁠Firmer than Oceanus.
⁠Pro. Ha! what is this? Thou, too, of my distress