Page:The Tragedies of Aeschylus - tr. Potter - 1812.pdf/63

Rh The furious Typhon, who 'gainst all the gods

Made war; his horrid jaws with serpent-hiss

Breath'd slaughter, from his eyes the gorgon glare

Of baleful lightnings flash'd, as his proud force

Wou'd rend from Jove his empire of the sky.

But, him the vengeful bolt, instinct with fire,

Smote sore, and dash'd him from his haughty vaunts,

Pierc'd thro' his soul, and wither'd al his strength.

Thus stretch'td out huge in length beneath the roots

Of Ætna, near Trinacria's narrow sea,

Astonied, blasted, spiritless he lies;

On whose high summit Vulcan holds his seat,

And forms the glowing mass. In times to come

Hence streams of torrent fire with hideous roar

Shall burst, and with its wasteful mouths devour

All the fair fields of fruitful Sicily.

Such rage shall Typhon, blasted as he is

With Jove's fierce lightning, pour incessant forth

In sinking whirlwinds and tempestuous flame.

Thou art not unexperienc'd, nor hast need

Of my instruction; save thyself, how best

Thy wisdom shall direct thee. I will bear

My present fate, till Jove's harsh wrath relents.

Know'st thou not this, Prometheus, that soft speech

Is to distemper'd wrath medicinal?

When seasonably the healing balm's applied;

Else it exasperates the swelling heart.

But in the fair endeavour, in th' attempt,

What disadvantage, tell me, dost thou see?

Unfruitful labour, and light-thoughted folly.

Be that my weakness then. Oft' when the wise

Appears not wise, he works the greatest good.