21
CHORUS.
Antistrophe II.
Yea thou indeed art bold, and batest nought
For all thine agonies,
But rather dost too freely speak thy thought. 200 (187)
But, for us, our minds are wrought
By a keen fear: with scared surmise
We scan thy destiny, nor can discern
Which were thy course to steer and gain
By holding it the end of thy long pain. 205 (191)
For ever stern
The son of Kronos keeps his purposed mind,
And still his ways pass us to find.
Prometheus.
That Zeus is savage and meteth out right
By his will alone I know. But one day 210 (195)
Will his mood be soft,
When that blow to come hath smitten him down.
And then, with his stubborn wrath hushed calm,
Will he eagerly seek, from me eagerly giving,
A league and a loving bond. 215 (200)
