Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/204

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Yet the new tyrant, 'neath whose nod

Cowers down each blest subservient god,

One day, far hence, my help shall need,

The destined stratagem to read,

Whereby, in some yet distant day,

Zeus shall be reaved of pride and sway:

And no persuasion's honied spell

Shall lure me on, the tale to tell;

And no stern threat shall make me cower

And yield the secret to his power,

Until his purpose be foregone,

And shackles yield, and he atone

The deep despite that he hath done!

O strong in hardihood, thou striv'st amain

Against the stress of pain!

But yet too free, too resolute thy tongue

In challenging thy wrong!

Ah, shuddering dread doth make my spirit quiver,

And o'er thy fate sits Fear!

I see not to what shore of safety ever

Thy bark can steer—

In depths unreached the will of Zeus doth dwell,

Hidden, implacable!

Ay, stern is Zeus, and Justice stands,

Wrenched to his purpose, in his hands—

Yet shall he learn, perforce, to know

A milder mood, when falls the blow—

His ruthless wrath he shall lay still,

And he and I with mutual will

In concord's bond shall go.