Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (1908) Morshead.djvu/237

Rh

From wedlock's crown of fair desire

I would not shrink—an idle fear!

But may no god to me draw near

With shunless might and glance of fire!

That were a strife wherein no chance

Of conquest lies: from Zeus most high

And his resolve, no subtlety

Could win me my deliverance.

And yet shall Zeus, for all his stubborn pride,

Be brought to low estate! aha, he schemes

Such wedlock as shall bring his doom on him,

Flung from his kingship to oblivion's lap!

Ay, then the curse his father Cronos spake

As he fell helpless from his agelong throne,

Shall be fulfilled unto the utterance!

No god but I can manifest to him

A rescue from such ruin as impends—

I know it, I, and how it may be foiled.

Go to, then, let him sit and blindly trust

His skyey rumblings, for security,

And wave his levin with its blast of flame!

All will avail him not, nor bar his fall

Down to dishonour vile, intolerable—

So strong a wrestler is he moulding now

To his own proper downfall—yea, a shape

Portentous and unconquerably huge,

Who truly shall reveal a flame more strong

Than is the lightning, and a crash of sound

More loud than thunder, and shall dash to nought

Poseidon's trident-spear, the ocean-bane

That makes the firm earth quiver. Let Zeus strike