Between the purple and my dainty feet. For fear, for fear indeed, some Jealous eye Entreat her gently; knowing well that none And those of Royal blood most hardly brook. A woof in which the Heavens themselves are dyed, Who mingles human mercy with his pride. The Sea there is, and shall the sea be dried? Than all the wardrobes of the world could drain; Of Him who, thus far having done their will, [AGAMEMNON descends from his chariot, and goes with CLYTEMNESTRA into the house, CASSANDRA remaining. Chorus. About the nations runs a saw, That Over-good ill fortune breeds; The marble walls and roofs of kings, Thus the famous city, flown To smoke her glory laid in dust; He wrought for should the jealous Eye And a breath can puff away. Clytemnestra [reëntering] — Yet for a moment let me look on her This, then, is Priam's daughter Cassandra, and a Prophetess, whom Zeus Has given into my hands to minister Among my slaves. Didst thou prophesy that? Well some more famous have so fallen before- Was sold, and bowed his shoulder to the yoke. Chorus And, if needs must a captive, better far Of some old house that affluent Time himself Chorus Even so. Nay, perhaps, Clytemnestra But, if barbarian, still interpreting Chorus Which yet again she does not seem to see, Clytemnestra- Cassandra- Chorus [continuing]. Still a muttered and half-blind [Exit CLYTEMNESTRA. That, by some divine decree That will not suffer man to swell Over human measure. Well, As the Gods have ordered we Must take I know not let it be. But, by rule of retribution, Hidden, too, from human eyes, Fortune in her revolution, If she fall, shall fall to rise: Fortune's counter revolution And the Sisters three that twine, For indeed the purple seed Phoebus Apollo ! The lips at last unlocking. Hark! Cassandra Chorus Phoebus! Phoebus! Well, what of Phoebus, maiden? though a name "Tis but disparagement to call upon Thorough trampled ashes, blood, and fiery rain, Chorus As one that half asleep at dawn recalls A night of Horror! Cassandra Hither, whither, Phoebus? And with whom, Chorus Cassandra I can answer that— Down to what slaughterhouse? Foh! the smell of carnage through the door Chorus One of the dismal prophet pack, it seems, That hunt the trail of blood. But here at fault This is no den of slaughter, but the house Of Agamemnon. Cassandra Down upon the towers Phantoms of two mangled Children hover and a famished man, At an empty table glaring, seizes and devours! Chorus Thyestes and his children! Strange enough For any maiden from abroad to know, Or, knowing Cassandra And look! in the chamber below The terrible Woman, listening, watching, Under a mask, preparing the blow In the fold of her robe Chorus Nay, but again at fault: For in the tragic story of this House No woman— Cassandra No Woman-Tisiphone! Daughter Of Tartarus-love-grinning Woman above, Dragon-tailed under- honey-tongued, Harpy-clawed, She wheedles, entices, him into the poisonous Chorus Whose stony lips once open vomit out Such uncouth horrors. Cassandra Peace, mad woman, peace! I tell you the lioness Slaughters the Lion asleep; and lifting Her blood-dripping fangs buried deep in his mane, Bounds hither-Phoebus, Apollo, Apollo, Apollo! From my slaughtered kinsmen, fallen throne, insulted shrine, Slavelike to be butchered, the daughter of a Royal line? Chorus And so returning, like a nightingale A nightingale, a nightingale, indeed, Oh, And trampled on the nest, and slew the young, Keep crying "Blood! blood! blood!" and none will heed! Now what for me is this prophetic weed, And what for me is this immortal crown, Who like a wild swan from Scamander's reed Chanting her death song float Cocytus-down? There let the fatal Leaves to perish lie! To perish, or enrich some other brow They palpitated under Him who now, Checking his flaming chariot in mid sky, With divine irony sees disadorn The wretch his love has made the people's scorn, |