Again the agony--
Dread pain that sees the future all too well
With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul.
Dread pain that sees the future all too well
With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul.
Aeschylus
In good sooth,
AGAMEMNON
My wonder meets thy claim: I stand amazed
That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas,
Dost as a native know and tell aright
Tales of a city of an alien tongue.
CASSANDRA
That is my power--a boon Apollo gave.
CHORUS
God though he were, yearning for mortal maid?
CASSANDRA
Ay! what seemed shame of old is shame no more.
CHORUS
Such finer sense suits not with slavery.
CASSANDRA
He strove to win me, panting for my love.
CHORUS
Came ye by compact unto bridal joys?
CASSANDRA
Nay--for I plighted troth, then foiled the god.
CHORUS
Wert thou already dowered with prescience?
CASSANDRA
Yea--prophetess to Troy of all her doom.
CHORUS
How left thee then Apollo's wrath unscathed?
CASSANDRA
I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all.
CHORUS
Not so--to us at least thy words seem sooth.
CASSANDRA
Woe for me, woe!
Again the agony--
Dread pain that sees the future all too well
With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul.
Behold ye--yonder on the palace roof
The spectre-children sitting--look, such things
As dreams are made on, phantoms as of babes,
Horrible shadows, that a kinsman's hand
Hath marked with murder, and their arms are full--
A rueful burden--see, they hold them up,
The entrails upon which their father fed!
For this, for this, I say there plots revenge
A coward lion, couching in the lair--
Guarding the gate against my master's foot--
My master--mine--I bear the slave's yoke now,
And he, the lord of ships, who trod down Troy,
Knows not the fawning treachery of tongue
Of this thing false and dog-like--how her speech
Glozes and sleeks her purpose, till she win
By ill fate's favour the desired chance,
Moving like Ate to a secret end.
O aweless soul! the woman slays her lord--
Woman? what loathsome monster of the earth
Were fit comparison? The double snake--
Or Scylla, where she dwells, the seaman's bane,
Girt round about with rocks? some hag of hell,
Raving a truceless curse upon her kin?
Hark--even now she cries exultingly
The vengeful cry that tells of battle turned--
How fain, forsooth, to greet her chief restored!
Nay then, believe me not: what skills belief
Or disbelief? Fate works its will--and thou
Wilt see and say in ruth, _Her tale was true. _
CHORUS
Ah--'tis Thyestes' feast on kindred flesh--
I guess her meaning and with horror thrill,
Hearing no shadow'd hint of th' o'er-true tale,
But its full hatefulness: yet, for the rest,
Far from the track I roam, and know no more.
CASSANDRA
'Tis Agamemnon's doom thou shalt behold.
CHORUS
Peace, hapless woman, to thy boding words!
CASSANDRA
Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves.
CHORUS
Ay--were such doom at hand--which God forbid!
AGAMEMNON
My wonder meets thy claim: I stand amazed
That thou, a maiden born beyond the seas,
Dost as a native know and tell aright
Tales of a city of an alien tongue.
CASSANDRA
That is my power--a boon Apollo gave.
CHORUS
God though he were, yearning for mortal maid?
CASSANDRA
Ay! what seemed shame of old is shame no more.
CHORUS
Such finer sense suits not with slavery.
CASSANDRA
He strove to win me, panting for my love.
CHORUS
Came ye by compact unto bridal joys?
CASSANDRA
Nay--for I plighted troth, then foiled the god.
CHORUS
Wert thou already dowered with prescience?
CASSANDRA
Yea--prophetess to Troy of all her doom.
CHORUS
How left thee then Apollo's wrath unscathed?
CASSANDRA
I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all.
CHORUS
Not so--to us at least thy words seem sooth.
CASSANDRA
Woe for me, woe!
Again the agony--
Dread pain that sees the future all too well
With ghastly preludes whirls and racks my soul.
Behold ye--yonder on the palace roof
The spectre-children sitting--look, such things
As dreams are made on, phantoms as of babes,
Horrible shadows, that a kinsman's hand
Hath marked with murder, and their arms are full--
A rueful burden--see, they hold them up,
The entrails upon which their father fed!
For this, for this, I say there plots revenge
A coward lion, couching in the lair--
Guarding the gate against my master's foot--
My master--mine--I bear the slave's yoke now,
And he, the lord of ships, who trod down Troy,
Knows not the fawning treachery of tongue
Of this thing false and dog-like--how her speech
Glozes and sleeks her purpose, till she win
By ill fate's favour the desired chance,
Moving like Ate to a secret end.
O aweless soul! the woman slays her lord--
Woman? what loathsome monster of the earth
Were fit comparison? The double snake--
Or Scylla, where she dwells, the seaman's bane,
Girt round about with rocks? some hag of hell,
Raving a truceless curse upon her kin?
Hark--even now she cries exultingly
The vengeful cry that tells of battle turned--
How fain, forsooth, to greet her chief restored!
Nay then, believe me not: what skills belief
Or disbelief? Fate works its will--and thou
Wilt see and say in ruth, _Her tale was true. _
CHORUS
Ah--'tis Thyestes' feast on kindred flesh--
I guess her meaning and with horror thrill,
Hearing no shadow'd hint of th' o'er-true tale,
But its full hatefulness: yet, for the rest,
Far from the track I roam, and know no more.
CASSANDRA
'Tis Agamemnon's doom thou shalt behold.
CHORUS
Peace, hapless woman, to thy boding words!
CASSANDRA
Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves.
CHORUS
Ay--were such doom at hand--which God forbid!
