Æschylos Tragedies and Fragments. Aeschylus

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      Okean. Lo, I come to thee, Prometheus,

      Reaching goal of distant journey,152

      Guiding this my winged courser

      By my will, without a bridle;

      And thy sorrows move my pity.

      Force, in part, I deem, of kindred

      Leads me on, nor know I any,

      Whom, apart from kin, I honour

      More than thee, in fuller measure.

      This thou shall own true and earnest:

      I deal not in glozing speeches.

      Come then, tell me how to help thee;

      Ne'er shalt thou say that one more friendly

      Is found than unto thee is Okean.

      Prom. Let be. What boots it? Thou then too art come

      To gaze upon my sufferings. How did'st dare

      Leaving the stream that bears thy name, and caves

      Hewn in the living rock, this land to visit,

      Mother of iron? What then, art thou come

      To gaze upon my fall and offer pity?

      Behold this sight: see here the friend of Zeus,

      Who helped to seat him in his sovereignty,

      With what foul outrage I am crushed by him!

      Okean. I see, Prometheus, and I wish to give thee

      My best advice, all subtle though thou be.

      Know thou thyself,153 and fit thy soul to moods

      To thee full new. New king the Gods have now;

      But if thou utter words thus rough and sharp,

      Perchance, though sitting far away on high,

      Zeus yet may hear thee, and his present wrath

      Seem to thee but as child's play of distress.

      Nay, thou poor sufferer, quit the rage thou hast,

      And seek a remedy for these thine ills.

      A tale thrice-told, perchance I seem to speak:

      Lo! this, Prometheus, is the punishment

      Of thine o'er lofty speech, nor art thou yet

      Humbled, nor yieldest to thy miseries,

      And fain would'st add fresh evils unto these.

      But thou, if thou wilt take me as thy teacher,

      Wilt not kick out against the pricks;154 seeing well

      A monarch reigns who gives account to none.

      And now I go, and will an effort make,

      If I, perchance, may free thee from thy woes;

      Be still then, hush thy petulance of speech,

      Or knowest thou not, o'er-clever as thou art,

      That idle tongues must still their forfeit pay?

      Prom. I envy thee, seeing thou art free from blame

      Though thou shared'st all, and in my cause wast bold;155

      Nay, let me be, nor trouble thou thyself;

      Thou wilt not, canst not soothe Him; very hard

      Is He of soothing. Look to it thyself,

      Lest thou some mischief meet with in the way.

      Okean. It is thy wont thy neighbours' minds to school

      Far better than thine own. From deeds, not words,

      I draw my proof. But do not draw me back

      When I am hasting on, for lo, I deem,

      I deem that Zeus will grant this boon to me,

      That I should free thee from these woes of thine.

      Prom. I thank thee much, yea, ne'er will cease to thank;

      For thou no whit of zeal dost lack; yet take,

      I pray, no trouble for me; all in vain

      Thy trouble, nothing helping, e'en if thou

      Should'st care to take the trouble. Nay, be still;

      Keep out of harm's way; sufferer though I be,

      I would not therefore wish to give my woes

      A wider range o'er others. No, not so:

      For lo! my mind is wearied with the grief

      Of that my kinsman Atlas,156 who doth stand

      In the far West, supporting on his shoulders

      The pillars of the earth and heaven, a burden

      His arms can ill but hold: I pity too

      The giant dweller of Kilikian caves,

      Dread portent, with his hundred hands, subdued

      By force, the mighty Typhon,157 who arose

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