Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/416

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Hero taunt away, and the gods' honours filching,

Bestow on creatures of a day; from thee

How much can mortals of these woes drain off?

Thee falsely do the gods Prometheus name,

For a Prometheus thou thyself dost need,

To plan releasement from this handiwork.

[Exeunt, and.

Oh holy ether, swiftly-wingèd gales,

Fountains of rivers, and of ocean-waves

Innumerable laughter, general mother Earth,

And orb all-seeing of the sun, I call:

Behold what I, a god, from gods endure.

See, wasted by what pains

Wrestle I must while myriad time shall flow!

Such ignominious chains

Hath he who newly reigns,

Chief of the blest, devised against me.Woe!

Ah woe! the torture of the hour

I wail, ay, and of anguish'd throes

The future dower,

How, when, shall rise a limit to these woes?

And yet what say I? clearly I foreknow

All that must happen; nor can woe betide

Stranger to me; the Destined it behoves,

As best I may, to bear, for well I wot