Page:Four Plays of Aeschylus (Cookson).djvu/201

Rh Clear-toned through air—what such a wretch as I

Must yet abide,—

The lost, lost maid that roams earth's kingdoms wide?

What thou wouldst learn I will make clear to thee,

Not weaving subtleties, but simple sooth

Unfolding as the mouth should speak to friends.

I am Prometheus, giver of fire to mortals.

Oh universal succour of mankind,

Sorrowful Prometheus, why art thou punished thus?

I have but now ceased mourning for my griefs.

Wilt thou not grant me then so small a boon?

What is it thou dost ask? Thou shalt know all.

Declare to me who chained thee in this gorge.

The hest of Zeus, but 'twas Hephæstus' hand.

But what transgression dost thou expiate?

Let this suffice thee: thou shalt know no more.

Nay, but the end of my long wandering

When shall it be? This too thou must declare.