Page:Prometheus Bound (Bevan 1902).djvu/59

 Are on the helm, and, master uncontroll'd,

Laws lawless maketh Zeus,

Trampling the ancient use,

And clean blots out the great and mighty things of old.

Ah, would that under the earth, down deeper

Than the Dungeon of Souls, the dead man's Keeper,

He had flung me to infinite Tartaros!—yes,

And had made me acquaint in his wrath's excess

With insoluble chains, that joy at the sight of me

No god might get nor any beside!—

I am lift to the sky, and the winds make light of me,

And they that hate me deride!

Bears any god so brute a breast,

As here to find him matter of jest?

Who is, but in thy pain hath part,

Save only Zeus? and he hath set his heart

Stubborn in uttermost