Specimens of Greek Tragedy | Page 7

weak wails of ruth. Whom the gods hate why dost thou not abhor-- Him that betrayed thy attribute to man?
HEPHAESTUS.
Great force have kindred and companionship.
MIGHT.
True, but to disobey the Almighty Sire How canst thou dare? Fearest thou not this more?
HEPHAESTUS.
Relentless still and pitiless art thou.
MIGHT.
Thy wailings are no medicines for his woes; Then waste no pains on that which profits naught.
HEPHAESTUS.
O thrice accurs'd this master-craft of mine!
MIGHT.
Why dost thou curse it? Simple truth to say, Thy art is no way guilty of these ills.
HEPHAESTUS.
Would it had fallen to any lot but mine.
MIGHT.
The one thing to the gods themselves denied [Footnote: In this passage I have retained the old reading eprachthae with the interpretation of the Scholiast.] Is sovereignty, for Zeus alone is free.
HEPHAESTUS.
Too well I know it, and gainsay it not.
MIGHT.
Be quick, then, and make fast this sinner's chain, Lest the Almighty see thee loitering.
HEPHAESTUS.
Here are the fetters for his arms; behold them.
MIGHT.
Grasp him, and with thy hammer round his arms Strike and strike hard and clench them to the rock.
HEPHAESTUS.
The work goes on apace and tarries not.
MIGHT.
Strike harder, clench, leave nothing loose; his craft, E'en in extremity, can find a way.
HEPHAESTUS.
This arm is fixed past any power to loose.
MIGHT.
Clench now the other firmly; let him know That all his cunning is no match for Zeus.
HEPHAESTUS.
Fault with my work can no one find save he.
MIGHT.
Drive then the ruthless spike of adamant Right through the sinner's breast and see it holds.
HEPHAESTUS.
Alas, Prometheus! I bemoan thy pains.
MIGHT.
Thou loiterest, moaning for the foe of Zeus; One day thou mayest be moaning for thyself.
HEPHAESTUS.
Thou see'st a sight most piteous to behold.
MIGHT.
I see yon sinner meeting his desert. Proceed, make fast the fetters round his sides.
HEPHAESTUS.
Needs must I do it, press me not too hard.
MIGHT.
Press thee I will, and shout into thine ear. Go down and clench the gyves about his legs.
HEPHAESTUS.
That work with little labour has been done.
MIGHT.
Now let thy hammer all the bonds make fast; The overseer of this thy work is stern.
HEPHAESTUS.
Thy speech is ruthless as thy looks are grim.
MIGHT.
Be thou soft-hearted an thou wilt, but spare To flout my sternness and my strong resolve.
HEPHAESTUS.
Let us be gone; the gyves are on his legs.
MIGHT.
There revel in thy insolence, there rob Gods of their attributes to give to man. Can mortal man in aught thy durance ease? Ill chosen was the name that thou hast borne. Foresight it means, but thou dost foresight need To set thy limbs free from his handiwork.
PROMETHEUS.
O glorious firmament; O swift-winged winds, Ye rivers and ye gleaming ocean waves Innumerable, and thou great Mother Earth, Thou, too, O sun, with thy all-seeing eye, Look how a god is treated by the gods! See the pains that I must bear, Even to the thousandth year! Such the chains that heaven's new king Forges for my torturing. Ah me! Ah me! my present woe Does but the pangs to come foreshow, Pangs that an end will never know.
Yet hold! The darkness of futurity Is to my eye not dark, nor can aught come That I do not foresee. Our destiny We all must bear as lightly as we may, Since none may wrestle with necessity. And yet to speak or not to speak alike Is miserable. High service done to man-- For this I bear the adamantine chain. I to its elemental fountain tracked, In fern-pith stored and bore by stealth away, Fire, source and teacher of all arts to men. Such mine offence, whereof the penalty I pay, thus chained in face of earth and heaven.
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THE SIN OF PROMETHEUS.
LINES 444-533.
PROMETHEUS.
Think not it is from pride or wantonness That I forbear to speak; my heart is wrung With looking on these ignominious bonds. Who was it that to these new deities Their attributes apportioned? Who but I? Of that no more; to you as well as me The tale is known; but list while I recount How vile was man's estate, how void was man Of reason, till I gave him mind and sense. Not that I would upbraid the race of men: I would but show my own benevolence. Eyesight they had, yet nothing saw aright; Ears, and yet heard not; but like forms in dreams, For ages lived a life confused, nor bricks Nor woodwork had to build them sunny homes, But dwelt beneath the ground, as do the tribes Diminutive of ants, in sunless caves. Nor had they signs to mark the season's change, Coming of winter or of flowery spring Or of boon summer; but at random wrought In all things, till I taught them to discern The risings and the settings of the stars; The use of numbers, crown of sciences, Was my invention; mine were letters too, The implement of mind in all its works. First I trained beasts to