Page:Prometheus Bound (Webster 1866).djvu/32



For this I thank thee, nor will ever cease,

For in goodwill thou failest not; but yet

Charge not thyself, for vainly, with no gain

To me, thou wilt have toiled, if thou persist.

Rather be still and keep thyself apart:

For I, though suffering, would not therefore long

For ill to light on the most heads possible.

No verily, I weary at the fate

Of my brother Atlas, standing in the west,

The pillar of Heaven and of earth upborne

By his shoulders—load that arms can hardly grasp.

The earthborn dweller in Cilician caves,

An angry monster with a hundred heads,

I pitying saw when overpowered by force—

The raging Typhon who braved all the gods,

Hissing destruction from his horrible jaws,

While from his eyes there lightened fearful flame

As though he'd storm the royalty of Zeus.

But Zeus's sleepless weapon came on him,

The downward thunderbolt outbreathing fire,

And dashed his arrogant vaunts. For, smitten through

To the very vitals, he was shrivelled up