A monologue from the play by Percy Bysshe Shelley

  • NOTE: This monologue is reprinted from Prometheus Unbound; A Lyrical Drama in Four Acts with Other Poems. Percy Bysshe Shelley. London: C and J Ollier, 1820.
  • PHANTASM: Fiend, I defy thee! with a calm, fixed mind,
    All that thou canst inflict I bid thee do;
    Foul Tyrant both of Gods and Humankind,
    One only being shalt thou not subdue.
    Rain then thy plagues upon me here,
    Ghastly disease, and frenzying fear;
    And let alternate frost and fire
    Eat into me, and be thine ire
    Lightning, and cutting hail, and legioned forms
    Of furies, driving by upon the wounding storms.

    Ay, do thy worst. Thou art omnipotent.
    O'er all things but thyself I gave thee power,
    And my own will. Be thy swift mischiefs sent
    To blast mankind, from yon ethereal tower.
    Let thy malignant spirit move
    In darkness over those I love:
    On me and mine I imprecate
    The utmost torture of thy hate;
    And thus devote to sleepless agony,
    This undeclining head while thou must reign on high.

    But thou, who art the God and Lord: O, thou,
    Who fillest with thy soul this world of woe,
    To whom all things of Earth and Heaven do bow
    In fear and worship: all-prevailing foe!
    I curse thee! let a sufferer's curse
    Clasp thee, her torturer, like remorse;
    Till thine Infinity shall be
    A robe of envenomed agony;
    And thine Omnipotence a crown of pain,
    To cling like burning gold round thy dissolving brain.

    Heap on thy soul, by virtue of this Curse,
    Ill deeds, then be thou damned, beholding good;
    Both infinite as is the universe,
    And thou, and thy self-torturing solitude.
    An awful image of calm power
    Though now thou sittest, let the hour
    Come, when thou must appear to be
    That which thou art internally;
    And after many a false and fruitless crime
    Scorn track thy lagging fall through boundless space and time.