Page:Prometheus Bound (Bevan 1902).djvu/51



I grant it: there is no gainsaying here.

To it then, and yarely! set the chains about him,

For fear the Father look, and find thee slack.

Nay, here are armlets ready, see you not?

Take him by main force round about the hands,

Smite with the hammer, clamp him to the rocks.

The work goes forward,—done in earnest now.

Strike! strike! make fierce the grapple: no relaxing!

He is shrewd at slipping from impossible straits.