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Rh I pray, no trouble for me: all in vain

Thy trouble, nothing helping, e'en if thou

Shouldst care to take this trouble. Nay, be still;

Keep out of harm's way: sufferer though I be

I would not therefore wish to give my woes

A wider range o'er others. No, not so:

For lo! my mind is wearied with the grief

Of that my kinsman Atlas, who doth stand

In the far west, supporting on his shoulders

The pillars of the earth and heaven, a burden

His arms but ill can hold: I pity too

The giant dweller of Kilikian caves,

Dread portent, with his hundred hands, subdued

By force, the mighty Typhon, who arose

'Gainst all the gods, with sharp and dreadful jaws

Hissing out slaughter, and from out his eyes

There flashed the terrible brightness as of one

Who would make havoc of the might of Zeus.

But the unsleeping dart of Zeus came on him,

Down-swooping thunderbolt that breathes out flame,

Which from his lofty boastings startled him,

For he i' the heart was struck, to ashes burnt,

His strength all thunder-shattered; and he lies

A helpless, powerless carcass, near the strait

Of the great sea, fast pressed beneath the roots

Of ancient Etna, where on the highest peak

Hephæstos sits and smites his iron red-hot,

From whence hereafter streams of fire shall burst,

Devouring with fierce jaws the golden plains

Of fruitful fair Sikelia. Such the wrath

That Typhon shall belch forth with bursts of storm,

Hot, breathing fire, and unapproachable,