Page:The Dramas of Aeschylus (Swanwick).djvu/459

Rh Champing the bit, dost fight against the rein

Fiercely; yet futile the device wherein

Madly thou trustest; for mere stubbornness

Avails the foolish-hearted less than nought.

But mark, if unpersuaded by my words,

What storm and triple crested surge of ills

Shall o'er thee burst escapeless. Yea: for first,

With thunder and with lightning-flame, the Sire

This rugged crag shall rend, and hide thy frame

Deep in the rock's embraces rudely clasped.

But when time's lengthened course thou hast fulfilled,

Back shalt thou come to daylight. Then, in sooth,

Zeus' wingèd hound, the eagle red with gore,

Shall of thy flesh a huge flap rudely tear;

Coming, unbidden guest, the live-long day

He on thy black-gnawed liver still shall feast.

But of such pangs look for no term, until,

Some god, successor of thy toils, appear,

Willing to Hades' rayless gloom to wend,

And to the murky depths of Tartaros.

Wherefore take counsel:—since not feigned in sooth

Is this bold threat, but all too truly spoken.

Trust me, the mouth of Zeus knows not to lie,

But every word completeth. So do thou

Look round, take heed, nor deem that stubbornness

Shall ever better than good counsel prove.

Timely to us the word of Hermes seems,

For he exhorts thee, dropping thy self-will,