Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/433

Rh To a mysterious art; of fire-eyed signs,

I purged the vision, over-filmed before.

Such were the boons I gave; and 'neath the earth

Those other helps to men, concealed which lie,

Brass, iron, silver, gold, who dares affirm

That before me he had discovered them?

No one, I know, but who would idly vaunt.

The sum of all learn thou in one brief word;

All arts to mortals from Prometheus came.

Not now for mortals beyond measure care

Thy hapless self neglecting; since, in sooth,

Good hope have I that, loosen'd from these bonds,

In might thou'lt prove an equal match for Zeus.

Not yet nor thus is it ordained that fate

These things shall compass; but by myriad pangs

And tortures bent, so shall I 'scape these bonds;

Art than necessity is weaker far.

Who then is helmsman of necessity?

The triform Fates and ever-mindful Furies.

Is Zeus in might less absolute than these?

E'en he the fore-ordain'd cannot escape.