1
Well, Hephaestus, here is the Caucasus, where this poor Titan will have to be nailed up. Now then let us look about for a suitable rock, if there is a place anywhere that has no snow on it, so that the irons may be riveted in more firmly and he may be in full sight of everybody as he hangs there.
1
Yes, let’s look about, Hermes: we mustn't crucify him low and close to the ground for fear that men, his own handiwork, may come to his aid, nor yet on the summit, either, for he would be out of sight from below. Suppose we crucify him half way up, somewhere hereabouts over the ravine, with his hands outstretched from this rock to that one?
1
Right you are; the cliffs are sheer and inaccessible on every side, and overhang slightly, and the rock has only this narrow foothold, so that one can barely stand on tip toe; in short, it will make a very handy cross. Well, Prometheus, don’t hang back: climb up and let yourself be riveted to the mountain.
2
Come, Hephaestus and Hermes, at any rate you might pity me in my undeserved misfortune.
2
You mean, be crucified in your stead the instant we disobey the order! Don’t you suppose the Caucasus has room enough to hold two more pegged up? Come, hold out your right hand. Secure it, Hephaestus, and nail it up, and bring your hammer down with a will. Give me the other hand too. Let that be well secured also. That’s good. The eagle will soon fly down to eat away your liver, so that you may have full return for your beautiful and clever handiwork in clay.
3
O Cronus and Iapetus and you, O mother (Earth)! What a fate I suffer, luckless that I am, when I have done no harm.
