Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/431

Rh But I refrain; for, nought my tongue would tell

Save what ye know. But rather list the ills

Of mortal men, how being babes before,

I made them wise and masters of their wits.

This will I tell, not as in blame of men,

But showing how from kindness flow'd my gifts.

For they, at first, though seeing, saw in vain;

Hearing they heard not, but, like shapes in dreams,

Through the long time all things at random mixed;

Of brick-wove houses, sunward-turn'd, nought knew,

Nor joiner's craft, but burrowing they dwelt

Like puny ants, in cavern'd depths unsunned.

Neither of winter, nor of spring flower-strewn,

Nor fruitful summer, had they certain sign,

But without judgment everything they wrought,

Till I to them the risings of the stars

Discovered, and their settings hard to scan.

Nay, also Number, art supreme, for them

I found, and marshalling of written signs,

Handmaid to memory, mother of the Muse.

And I in traces first brute creatures yok'd,

Subject to harness, with vicarious strength

Bearing in mortals' stead their heaviest toils.

And 'neath the car rein-loving steeds I brought,

Chief ornament of wealth-abounding pomp.

And who but I the ocean-roaming wain

For mariners invented, canvass-winged?

Such cunning works for mortals I contrived,

Yet, hapless, for myself find no device

To free me from this present agony.