Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/58

14 Herself the same, foretell me the event,

That not by violence, that not by pow'r,

But gentler arts, the royalty of heav'n

Must be obtain'd. Whilst thus my voice advis'd,

Their headlong rage deign'd mē not e'en a look.

What then could wisdom dictate, but to take

My mother, and with voluntary aid

Abet the cause of Jove ? Thus by my counsels

In the dark deep Tartarean gulph enclos'd

Old Saturn lies, and his confederate pow'rs.

For these good deeds the tyrant of the skies

Repays me with there dreadful punishments.

For foul mistrust of those that serve them best

Breathes its black poison in each tyrant's heart.

Ask you the cause for which he tortures me ?

I will declare it. On his father's throne

Scarce was he seated, on the chiefs of heav'n

He show'r'd his various honours; thus confirming

His royalty; but for unhappy mortals

Had no regard, and all the present race

Will'd to extirpate, and to form anew.

None, save myself, oppos'd his will; I dar'd;

And boldly pleading sav'd them from destruction,

Sav'd them from sinking to the realms of night.

For this offence I bend beneath these pains,

Dreadful to suffer, piteous to behold: