The next thing that Jupiter did was to punish Prometheus for stealing
fire from the sun. He bade two of his servants, whose names were
Strength and Force, to seize the bold Titan and carry him to the topmost
peak of the Caucasus Mountains. Then he sent the blacksmith Vulcan to
bind him with iron chains and fetter him to the rocks so that he could
not move hand or foot.
Vulcan did not like to do this, for he was a friend of Prometheus, and
yet he did not dare to disobey. And so the great friend of men, who had
given them fire and lifted them out of their wretchedness and shown them
how to live, was chained to the mountain peak; and there he hung, with
the storm-winds whistling always around him, and the pitiless hail
beating in his face, and fierce eagles shrieking in his ears and tearing
his body with their cruel claws. Yet he bore all his sufferings without
a groan, and never would he beg for mercy or say that he was sorry for
what he had done.
Year after year, and age after age, Prometheus hung there. Now and then
old Helios, the driver of the sun car, would look down upon him and
smile; now and then flocks of birds would bring him messages from
far-off lands; once the ocean nymphs came and sang wonderful songs in
his hearing; and oftentimes men looked up to him with pitying eyes, and
cried out against the tyrant who had placed him there.
Then, once upon a time, a white cow passed that way,--a strangely
beautiful cow, with large sad eyes and a face that seemed almost human.
She stopped and looked up at the cold gray peak and the giant body which
was chained there. Prometheus saw her and spoke to her kindly:
"I know who you are," he said. "You are Io who was once a fair and happy
maiden in distant Argos; and now, because of the tyrant Jupiter and his
jealous queen, you are doomed to wander from land to land in that
unhuman form. But do not lose hope. Go on to the southward and then to
the west; and after many days you shall come to the great river Nile.
There you shall again become a maiden, but fairer and more beautiful
than before; and you shall become the wife of the king of that land, and
shall give birth to a son, from whom shall spring the hero who will
break my chains and set me free. As for me, I bide in patience the day
which not even Jupiter can hasten or delay. Farewell!"
Poor Io would have spoken, but she could not. Her sorrowful eyes looked
once more at the suffering hero on the peak, and then she turned and
began her long and tiresome journey to the land of the Nile.
Ages passed, and at last a great hero whose name was Hercules came to
the land of the Caucasus. In spite of Jupiter's dread thunderbolts and
fearful storms of snow and sleet, he climbed the rugged mountain peak;
he slew the fierce eagles that had so long tormented the helpless
prisoner on those craggy heights; and with a mighty blow, he broke the
fetters of Prometheus and set the grand old hero free.
"I knew that you would come," said Prometheus. "Ten generations ago I
spoke of you to Io, who was afterwards the queen of the land of the
Nile."
"And Io," said Hercules, "was the mother of the race from which I am
sprung."
[Illustration]