Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/229

Rh

What profit then is life to me? Ah, why

Did I not cast me from this stubborn crag?

So, with one spring, one crash upon the ground,

I had attained surcease from all my woes.

Better it is to die one death outright

Than linger out long life in misery.

Ill would'st thou bear these agonies of mine—

Mine, with whose fate it standeth not to win

The goal of death, which were release from pain!

Now, there is set no limit to my woe

Till Zeus be hurled from his omnipotence.

Zeus hurled from pride of place! Can such things be?

Thou wert full fain, methinks, to see that sight!

Even so—his overthrow who wrought my pain.

Then may'st thou know thereof; such fall shall be.

And who shall wrench the sceptre from his hand?