They set out to see
unknown lands, and their ambitions grew with their knowledge. They were
like a race of poor gods gifted with dreams of great glory and the
power to fashion marvellous things; and, though they had no endless
youth to spend, the gods were troubled.
Last of all, Prometheus went up secretly to heaven after the treasure
of the immortals. He lighted a reed at the flame of the sun, and
brought down the holy fire which is dearest to the gods. For with the
aid of fire all things are possible, all arts are perfected.
This was his greatest gift to man, but it was a theft from the immortal
gods, and Zeus would endure no more. He could not take back the secret
of fire; but he had Prometheus chained to a lofty crag in the Caucasus,
where every day a vulture came to prey upon his body, and at night the
wound would heal, so that it was ever to suffer again. It was a bitter
penalty for so noble-hearted a rebel, and as time went by, and Zeus
remembered his bygone services, he would have made peace once more. He
only waited till Prometheus should bow his stubborn spirit, but this
the son of Titans would not do. Haughty as rock beneath his daily
torment, believing that he suffered for the good of mankind, he endured
for years.
One secret hardened his spirit. He was sure that the empire of Zeus
must fall some day, since he knew of a danger that threatened it. For
there was a certain beautiful sea-nymph, Thetis, whom Zeus desired for
his wife.
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