Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/189

Rh Knowest thou not, being exceeding wise,

A wanton, idle tongue brings chastisement?

I marvel that thou art not in my case,

Seeing with me thou did'st adventure all.

And now, I do entreat thee, spare thyself.

Thou wilt not move him: he's not easy moved.

Take heed lest thou find trouble by the way.

Thou are a better counsellor to others

Than to thyself:—I judge by deeds not words.

Pluck me not back when I would fain set forth.

My oath upon it, Zeus will grant my prayer

And free thee from these pangs.

I tender thee

For this my thanks and ever-during praise.

Certes, no backward friend art thou; and yet

Trouble not thyself; for at the best thy labour

Will nothing serve me,—if thou mean'st to serve.

Being thyself untrammelled stand thou fast.

For, not to mitigate my own mischance,

Would I see others hap on evil days.

The thought be far from me. I feel the weight

Of Atlas' woes, my brother, in the west

Shouldering the pillar that props heaven and earth,

No wieldy fardel for his arms to fold.

The giant dweller in Cilician dens

I saw and pitied—a terrific shape,

A hundred-headed monster—when he fell,

Resistless Typhon who withstood the Gods,

With fearsome hiss of beak-mouth horrible,