Prometheus monologue — Four Plays of Aeschylus

And yet shall Zeus, for all his stubborn pride, Be brought to low estate! aha, he schemes Such wedlock as shall bring his doom on him, Flung from his kingship to oblivion’s lap! Ay, then the curse his father Cronos spake As he fell helpless from his agelong throne, Shall be fulfilled unto the utterance! No god but I can manifest to him A rescue from such ruin as impends— I know it, I, and how it may be foiled. Go to, then, let him sit and blindly trust His skyey rumblings, for security, And wave his levin with its blast of flame! All will avail him not, nor bar his fall Down to dishonour vile, intolerable So strong a wrestler is he moulding now To his own proper downfall—yea, a shape Portentous and unconquerably huge, Who truly shall reveal a flame more strong Than is the lightning, and a crash of sound More loud than thunder, and shall dash to nought Poseidon’s trident-spear, the ocean-bane That makes the firm earth quiver. Let Zeus strike Once on this rock, he speedily shall learn How far the fall from power to slavery!