Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/198

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Then cast them round his arms and with sheer strength

Swing down the hammer, clinch him to the crags.

Lo, 'tis toward—no weakness in the work!

Smite harder, wedge it home—no faltering here!

He hath a craft can pass th' impassable!

This arm is fast, inextricably bound.

Then shackle safe the other, that he know

His utmost craft is weaker far than Zeus.

He, but none other, can accuse mine art!

Now, strong and sheer, drive thro' from breast to back

The adamantine wedge's stubborn fang.

Alas, Prometheus! I lament thy pain.