Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/426

356 But be thou calm nor over-rash of speech;

Knowest thou not, being exceeding wise,

That to the froward tongue cleaves chastisement.

Much joy I give thee scatheless as thou art,

Though in all plots and daring leagued with me.

But now let be; forbear thy toil: for Him

Persuade thou canst not: Him no suasion moves;

Nay, lest the journey breed thee harm, beware.

More cunning art thou others to advise

Than thine own self. By deed I judge, not word;

But, fixed is my resolve, hold me not back;

For sure I am, yea, sure, that Zeus to me

Will grant this boon, and loose thee from these pains.

For this I praise thee, nor will cease to praise;

For nought of kindly zeal thou lackest; yet,

Toil not, for vain, nor helpful unto me,

Thy toil will prove,—if toil indeed thou wilt;—

But hold thee quiet rather, keep aloof;

For I, though in mishap, not therefore wish

Wide-spreading fellowship of woe to see.

No truly, for my brother Atlas' doom

Grieves me, who, stationed on the western verge,

The pillars on his shoulders beareth up

Of heaven and earth; burthen of painful grasp.

So, in Cilician caves with ruth I saw