"One day, as he writhed helplessly in his chains, Prometheus saw in the valley below him what at so great distance seemed to be a beautiful heifer, having a fair face like that of a woman. 'Surely,' said he aloud, 'it is the child of Inachus, she who warmed the heart of Zeus, and is now through Here's hate changed into an unseemly shape, and driven to weary wanderings.'
"Then the maiden gazed at him in wonder, and asked, 'Who are you whom the gods have doomed to suffer in this solitary place? And how came you to know my father's name, and the sorrows that have come upon me? And tell me, I pray, if such knowledge be yours, whether there shall ever be any help for me, and when my sufferings shall have an end.'
"The Titan answered, 'I who speak to thee am Prometheus, who brought down fire to men, and gave them knowledge, and taught them how to do godlike things. And I know that thou art Io, once the lovely daughter of Inachus, king of Argos; but what thou art now, let thy own lips speak and answer.'
"'I cannot choose but tell you all,' the maiden answered, 'though my speech shall with sobs be broken when I recall the memory of happy days forever gone. There was a time when in my father's halls I dwelt in maidenly freedom, a spoiled and petted child. But as I grew to womanhood, dreams came to me which told me that I was beloved by Zeus. Such trouble did these visions bring to me, that I was fain to tell my father of them. He knew not what to do. But he sent swift messengers to Delphi and Dodona to ask the oracles what the dreams portended, and how he could best give pleasure to the gods. The answer came, that he should drive me from his doors into the wide and cruel world, or otherwise the fiery bolts of Zeus would burn up all his household and destroy him utterly. Reluctantly and weeping bitter tears, he shut me out; and lo! straightway my body was changed into the loathed form which stands before you, and a gad-fly stung me with its fangs, and I rushed away in madness, vainly hoping to find relief at Lerne's fountain water. But there the herdsman Argus, with his hundred eyes, did track me out; and with his scourge and the goading fly, I was driven along unending ways. Then Hermes, seeing my distress, took pity on me, and sought to free me from my cruel keeper. But Argus never slept; and with his hundred eyes he saw every danger, and shunned it while it was yet afar. At last Hermes bethought him of the power of music. Playing a soft melody on his lute, he stole gently towards the herdsman; the sweet sounds charmed the savage ear, and sleep overpowered the hundred eyes. Then Hermes drew his sword quickly, and smote off the head of Argus, thus gaining for himself the name of the Argus-queller. But the shade of the terrible herdsman still follows me, and I find no rest; and aimlessly I have come, thus goaded onward, to this wild mountain region.'