Of every wind rude blasts that sweep
In strife of rancour-breathing hate.
The sky is mingled with the deep.
Such turmoil to arouse my fear
Comes visibly from Zeus. Oh thou, 1110
Mother revered! Oh upper air,
Who sheddest from thy circling sphere
The common light! Behold ye now
What pangs unjust I bear.
NOTES.
Prometheus Bound.
550. After διακναιόμενον a word is lost. I suggest—
μυρίοις μόχθοις διακναιόμενον (κἀυθαιρετοῖς).
869. τῶν Διὸς γεννημάτων. Every one feels that the poet cannot have written thus. I suggest τῶνδ᾽ ὁσιογεννημάτων, as close to the letters of the text.
914. A word is lost, μοῖραι [μακραίωνες] λεχέων . . . . will satisfy metre and sense. The old text in the strophe is, ἦ σόφος, ἦ σόφος ἦν, | ὃς . . . .
920–27 appear to me to be antistrophic. Perhaps thus:
(στρ.)ἐμοὶ δ᾽, ὅποτε μὲν ὁμαλὸς, ὁ γάμος ἄφοβος·
οὐδὲ δέδια, μὴ θεῶν του
κρεισσόνων ἔρως ἄφυκτ᾽
ὄμματα προσδρακῇ με
(ἀντ.)ἀπόλεμος ὅδε γ᾽ὁ πόλεμος, ἄπορα πόριμος·
οὐδ᾽ἔχω τίς ἂν γενοίμαν·
τὰν Διὸς γὰρ οὐχ ὁρῶ
μῆτιν ὅπα φύγοιμ᾽ ἄν
