ciations of the coming peril to that oppressor, and confidence in his own immortality, and constancy to bear. The chorus then prevail upon him by their soothing and compassionate strains, to relate to them the history of his wrongs, which are interrupted, just as the chorus alights, and takes its station on each side of the rock, by the arrival of Ocean, riding a winged sea-monster, who, under the guise of sympathy and a desire to aid, counsels Prometheus to make submission to the tyrant, and is received, and dismissed by the divine sufferer with satirical thanks, mixed with indignant and severe reproaches. Then follows a choral strain, descriptive of the grief which all nations of the world experience at the fate of Prometheus and this concluded, the Titan narrates to his compassionate listeners the sum of all his benefits to mortals. This brings us to the middle of the drama, both in number of lines, and in the action of the piece, as here ends the delineation of his past sufferings and present woes; and with the arrival of Io, immediately following, commences the prophetic announcement of her adventures, and his own release by the means of one of her remote posterity. With this, then, we shall close the present article, intending to present the remainder, under the favor of the public, in a future number; since, to carry out this slight commentary through the whole drama, and to give the completion of the translated poem, would exceed the utmost limits that can be afforded to the article. Of the translation, in one word, the translator would say, that being dissatisfied with the vague paraphrases and long rambling circumlocutions by which it has always seemed to him that Potter has succeeded in conveying, neither the spirit nor the letter of the Greek, with the very numerous and gross errors of construction into which he has fallen, as well as with his endeavor to tranfuse the wild and rambling measures of the chorus into the tame and restricted metres of English song-tunes, he has ventured to attempt himself, in the silence of many far abler and more suited to the task, to execute a translation, the aim of which is, to convey to the English reader an idea, not of the words only, or the meaning, but of the style, the measures, and the spirit of the great old tragedian. So literally has it been rendered, that five hundred and thirty-four lines of the original have been expanded only into five hundred and thirty-eight, and that not only the whole is translated word for word and letter for letter, so as to preserve English idioms, but that the breaks and pauses in the corresponding lines will be found to endure comparison. The classical scholar is respectfully solicited carefully to examine this English version, beside the original Greek, as it is believed to be sufficiently close to answer as a school translation; while the translator has not neglected, according to his powers, the structure of the English versification. The Iambics are rendered by blank verse, except where the habit of carrying on long dialogues in complete alternate lines or couplets, common to all the Greek tragedians, has induced us to adopt rhymed terminations, the genius of English blank verse being utterly opposed to unconnected single lines, old bachelors as they are termed at Eton and the English universities, couplets or triplets. The choruses will be found in alternate strophes and antistrophes, after the Greek fashion; the measure and the alternation of rhyme corresponding in the corresponding divisions; the Anapæsts in which Eschylus was especially successful, are given by English Anapæsts of the same rhythm precisely with the original, the basis anapastius and versus paramianis being preserved as often as compatible with the preservation of the sense. Of one thing the reader may rest satisfied, that there is no interpolation; that, if the splendid poetry of the dramatist is inadequately rendered, it is at least all there, nothing being detracted, and nought set down in malice. With these few observations, the translator takes the liberty to lay before the public this attempt, which, as he has endeavored to shew, differs in very many particulars, from the older translations. Should it be deemed to merit approbation, he may not improbably persevere at some future time with the remaining dramas; should it be held a 'failure, sufficient is it to him that the execution of the task has increased his familiarity with, and appreciation of, a very favorite author, and that at least, "it is some pleasure to have contended." THE scene is a wild and rocky glen in the gorges of the Scythian Caucasus. It must be understood, however, that the Caucasus of Eschylus is situate in Europe, far to the north and west of its true position. The time is not defined; but the action is directly continuous. PART I. PROMETHEUS FETTERED. SCENE. A glen among the ridges of the Scythian Caucasus. STRENGTH, FORCE, VULCAN, PROMETHEUS. Strength. Now have we reached the outmost tract of earth, The Scythian waste-the pathless solitude And thine it is, O Vulcan, to enforce The Sire's injunctions-high on towering crags In deathless bonds of adamantine chain; 5 The wrathful Gods, his rank offence's fine, Taught by hard sufferance to revere the sway 10 Of Jove Supreme, and cease his love for men. Vulcan. O Strength, and Force, on you too Jove's command Is binding, and nought hinders-but for me! In this wild-winter gorge a kinared God. I lack the hardihood by might to bind Yet must I now that hardihood put on, Or brave dread wrath and scorn the Sire's decree. Where neither voice, nor any form of men Thy skin's fair flower shall change. Then glad, to thee And stern the rule of all whose rule is new. Strength. Why loiterest thou, and if it e'en be so, In pity for this God to God's a foe; Who gave thy glory to the worms below? Vulcan. Kindred and friendship are connexions strong. Strength. They are-but how the mandates high to wrong Of Father Jove? more fearful this, I trow. Vulcan. Pitiless ever, full of daring thou. Strength. For nought it 'vaileth him to mourn, nor thee Fondly to toil, for what shall never be. Vulcan. Oh! much detested handicraft of mine! Strength. Wherefore detested? since, in simple line, Thy woes have nought against thine art to cry. 40 45 Vulcan. Would that some other owned that art-not I !— Strength. All may be owned by Gods except the throne, 50 For there is no one free, but Jove alone! Vulcan. I know it, and have nothing to gainsay. Strength. Then why to fetter him so long delay ? Haste, or the Sire shall see thee idly stand Vulcan. And lo! the fetters ready to thine hand. 55 Strength. Take him, and round his wrists the forceful chain Hard rivet-pin it to the rocks amain! Vulcan. The deed is done, there is no loitering here. Strength. Strike! strike again! strike on! and nothing fear! For strong is he, all bonds aside to cast. Vulcan. Behold this arm inextricably fast. Strength. Then link this other firm-so let him know Himself in argument great Jove below. 60 Vulcan. Save this one only, none can blame me now. [edge. Strength. Now through his breast drive fiercely, drive the 56 Of the strong upright adamantine wedge! Vulcan. Ay me! Prometheus, for thy woes I groan. Strength. Still wilt thou linger ?-still Jove's foes bemoan? See that thyself thou hold from wailing free! Vulcan. Thou look'st upon a sight most sad to see! Strength. I see him suffering his deserts' reward. Now round his loins bind! bind the cincture hard! Vulcan. Done must it be! but thou command no more! Strength. Command I will-yea! and enforce thee sore! Go down and ring his legs with gyves about. Vulcan. This too is done! before thy words are out. Strength. Now stoutly clench the circular shackles on! Severe is he, for whom the work is done. 70 75 Vulcan. Thy savage words suit well thy form of fear. Strength. Shrink, falter thou! blame not my mood severe 80 Nor the rough hardness of my daring heart! Vulcan. His limbs are fettered close. Let us depart! Strength. Insult thou these! and steal from the great Gods Their wealth, to waste on earthworms! Do it, and see Which of thy woes these mortals shall allay! Most sure the Gods misstyled thee sage and wise, To teach thee how to shuffle off this coil. 85 [They all go off, leaving Prometheus chained aloft to a rock in the centre of the stage.] Prom. O Heavenly ether, and swift pinioned winds, And founts of rivers, and of ocean waves Ye crisped smiles uncounted, and thou earth I do invoke, O Sun-behold! behold! What wrongs myself a God, from Gods I bear. So base a chain Has this new wielder of the thunder Devised to glut against me his strong hate. Wo! wo! the present and the future anguish Compel my soul unwilling to complain! When-when-or by what fate Shall these ages of agony terminate? 90 95 100 And yet what say I-I whose prescient ken So knows the future, that nought strange or new Can come to grieve me? Best then to endure 105 Lightly the doom, that still endured must be, Knowing that fate will have its destined way!- Thus yoked-aye me!-for gifts to mortals given. 110 |