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: