Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/59

Rh For mercy to mankind I am not deem'd

Worthy of mercy; but with ruthless hate

In this uncouth appointment am fix'd here

A spectacle dishonourable to Jove.

Of iron is he form'd and adamant,

Whose breast with social sorrow does not melt

At thy afflictions: I nor wish'd to see them,

Nor see them but with anguish at my heart.

It is a sight that strikes my friends with pity.

But had th' offence in farther aggravation?

I hid from men the foresight of their fate.

What cou'dst thou find to remedy that ill?

I sent blind Hope t' inhabit in their hearts.

A blessing hast thou given to mortal man.

Nay more, with generous zeal I gave them Fire.

Do mortals now enjoy the blazing gift?

And by it shall give birth to various arts.

For such offences doth the wrath of Jove

Thus punish thee, relaxing nought of pain?

And is no bound prescrib'd to thy affliction?

None else, but when his own will shall incline him.

Who shalt incline his will? Hast thou no hope?

Dost thou not see that thou hast much offended ?

But to point out th' offence to me were painful,

And might sound harsh to thee? forbear we then;

Bethink thee how thy ills may find an end.

How easy, when the foot is not entangled

In misery's thorny maze, to give monitions

And precepts to th' afflicted! Of these things

I was not unadvis'd; and my offence

Was voluntary; in man's cause I drew

These evils on my head: but ills like these,

On this aerial rock to waste away,

This desert and unsocial precipice,