Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/185

Rh Am I to be reformed, and made a show

Of infamy to Zeus.

He hath a heart

Of iron, hewn out of unfeeling rock

Is he, Prometheus, whom thy sufferings

Rouse not to wrath. Would I had ne'er beheld them,

For verily the sight hath wrung my heart.

Yea, to my friends a woeful sight am I.

Hast not more boldly in aught else transgressed?

I took from man expectancy of death.

What medicine found'st thou for this malady?

I planted blind hope in the heart of him.

A mighty boon thou gavest there to man.

Moreover, I conferred the gift of fire.

And have frail mortals now the flame-bright fire?

Yea, and shall master many arts thereby.

And Zeus with such misfeasance charging thee—