Pandora! Thine bewitching grace and charm
Attaching every step. Yet men with harm
Afflicted by your actions. For twas you
Our ills unleashed to give us pain undue.
Created, fashioned, by the gods of men:
Bedecked and dressed in beauty: were you then
Escorted from Olympic heights divine
Unto us bearing fatal gift of thine!
The men who saw you walking on that day
Beguiled, saw naught but loveliness at play
Your every movement. Lithely as you walked
Convincing everyone to whom you talked
Your loveliness but seemed enhanced, it grew
As each you met and talked awhile with you.
Prometheus alone possessed the wile
Suspecting what the gods might do with guile
Begged those unwitting men: “Send back the girl
To whence she came. For though she look a pearl
Of measure priceless she may be
Unwitting, yet a snare to ruin thee.”
Rejecting his advice, they answered nay
Thus bringing on themselves accurséd sway
Of many ills. Pandora could not know
She was a tool of Zeus to work his woe
Upon his enemies on earth below.
Against thine will, by magic, your will tied
To do what others would, you must abide
The time until completed. Then shall you
Repent too late. Your actions dearly rue.
At fitting time, at night, when you alone
Could take the pyx Zeus gave you for your own
Believing that within this gorgeous cask
Were beauty lotions, aiding in their task
To heighten your great charms: alone, unseen
The pyx you oped. What never should have been
Broke forth. Upon you broken was the spell
That yoked your will to Zeus. With frightful yell
The evil sprites, malicious ills broke free
To roam at large and work their villainy
To plague mankind with kind of ill
To injure, sicken, torture, even kill
To blight the crops. To strike beasts with ague
To drive men mad with grief. All this to you
Mankind does owe its meed of grim despair
Until the end of times this fate repair.
And at that moment, you Pandora, you
With newly opened eyes began to rue
The ills you’d wrought unwittingly. You saw
What must befall mankind. This fatal law
Is obvious to mortals, to us known:
That men must reap whatever they have sown.
Prometheus the titan heard you cry
With anguished sorrow as he passed close by
And seeking, found you sitting in despair
Upon the ground with your disheveled hair
Spread like a garment round your weeping form
The opened pyx nearby, from which a storm
Of wickedness had sprung. He besought
You gently to take courage, while he wrought
His magic to discern the full extent
Of what had just then passed. He underwent
A change of face, as he took up the pyx
To search it close for other evil tricks
Lying concealed. Finding none, he ope
Its lid himself, to find it full of Hope!
And wherefore Hope? Who placed thee there confined
To bless, assuage the sorrows of mankind?
Which deity should men this gift thank for
Unless it be the God of gods therefore?
Pandora knew the worst. Her heart aggrieved
By intuition sensed men had received –
And by her hand, unwittingly – was cursed
By ills beset till death upon them durst
Take off the mortal part. The Titan tells
Her all he knew. With pity his heart swells
To know her but a tool that Zeus would play
To wreak his vengeance in a subtle way.
To her he asks if yet she would undo –
As best she could – the evil that outflew
Into the world, unleashed their by her hand?
And quickly did Pandora understand
Accepting gratefully she had a part
Still yet to play. And gratefully her heart
Agreed to take the pyx, its burden bear
Throughout the worlds of men and Hope to share
And shower plentifully as she might
And in this way the evil best requite.
And thus she did. And does. Pandora be
Yet still a gentle comforter to me
So come sweet lady, giving by your hand
Me Hope that yet I sorrow can withstand
And standing strong in Hope I, by your aid
Continue on. By ills never dismayed.