Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/51

Rh Receives its meed, that thou, a god, regardless

Of the gods' anger, honouredst mortal man

With courtesies, which justice not approves.

Therefore the joyless station of this rock

Unsleeping, unreclining, shalt thou keep,

And many' a groan, many' a loud laiment

Throw out in vain, nor move the rig'rous breast

Of Jove, relentless in his youthful pow'r.

No more: why these delays, this foolish pity?

Dost thou not hate a god by gods abhorr'd,

That prostitutes thy radiant boast to man ?

Strong are the ties of kindred and long converse.

Well: but to disobey thy sire's commands,

Darest thou do that ? Is not that fear more strong ?

Soft pity never touch'd thy ruthless mind.

Will thy vain pity bring relief Forbear,

Nor waste thyself in what avails not him.

Abhorr'd be all the fine skill of my hands.

And why abhorr'd ? For of these present toils

Thy art, in very truth, is not the cause.

Yet wish I it had been some other's lot.

All have their lot appointed, save to reign

In heav'n, for liberty is Jove's alone.

Truth guides thy words, nor have I to gainsay.

Why thus reluctant then to bind his chains?

Let not thy sire observe these slow delays.

The manacles are ready, thou mayst see them.

Bind them around his hands; with all thy force

Strike, nail them fast, drive them into the rock.

Thus far the work is finish'd, and not slightly.

Strike harder, strain them, let them not relax;

His craft will work unthought of ways t' escape.

This arm too is inextricably fix'd.

And now clasp this secure, that he may learn