Cassandra: Oh, oh! Agony, agony! Again the awful pains of prophecy Are on me, maddening as they fall. … Ye see them there … beating against the wall? So young … like shapes that gather in a dream … Slain by a hand they loved. Children they seem, Murdered … and in their hands they bear baked meat: I think it is themselves. Yea, flesh; I see it; And inward parts. … Oh, what a horrible load To carry! And their father drank their blood.
From these, I warn ye, vengeance broodeth still, A lion’s rage, which goes not forth to kill But lurketh in his lair, watching the high Hall of my war-gone master … Master? Aye; Mine, mine! The yoke is nailed about my neck. … Oh, lord of ships and trampler on the wreck Of Ilion, knows he not this she-wolf’s tongue, Which licks and fawns, and laughs with ear up-sprung, To bite in the end like secret death?—And can The woman? Slay a strong and armèd man? …
What fangèd reptile like to her doth creep? Some serpent amphisbene, some Skylla, deep Housed in the rock, where sailors shriek and die, Mother of Hell blood-raging, which doth cry On her own flesh war, war without alloy … God! And she shouted in his face her joy, Like men in battle when the foe doth break. And feigns thanksgiving for his safety’s sake!
What if no man believe me? ’Tis all one. The thing which must be shall be; aye, and soon Thou too shalt sorrow for these things, and here Standing confess me all too true a seer.
Leader: The Thyestean feast of children slain I understood, and tremble. Aye, my brain Reels at these visions, beyond guesswork true. But after, though I heard, I had lost the clue.
Cassandra: Man, thou shalt look on Agamemnon dead.
Leader: Peace, Mouth of Evil! Be those words unsaid!
Cassandra: No god of peace hath watch upon that hour.
Leader: If it must come. Forefend it, Heavenly Power!
Cassandra: They do not think of prayer; they think of death.
Leader: They? Say, what man this foul deed compasseth?
Cassandra: Alas, thou art indeed fallen far astray!
Leader: How could such deed be done? I see no way.
Cassandra: Yet know I not the Greek tongue all too well?
Leader: Greek are the Delphic dooms, but hard to spell.
Cassandra: Ah! Ah! There! What a strange fire! It moves … It comes at me. O Wolf Apollo, mercy! O agony! … Why lies she with a wolf, this lioness lone, Two-handed, when the royal lion is gone? God, she will kill me! Like to them that brew Poison, I see her mingle for me too A separate vial in her wrath, and swear, Whetting her blade for him, that I must share His death … because, because he hath dragged me here!
Oh, why these mockers at my throat? This gear Of wreathèd bands, this staff of prophecy? I mean to kill you first, before I die. Begone! She tears off her prophetic habiliments; and presently throws them on the ground, and stamps on them. Down to perdition! … Lie ye so? So I requite you! Now make rich in woe Some other Bird of Evil, me no more! Coming to herself. Ah, see! It is Apollo’s self, hath tore His crown from me! Who watched me long ago In this same prophet’s robe, by friend, by foe,
All with one voice, all blinded, mocked to scorn: “A thing of dreams,” “a beggar-maid outworn,” Poor, starving and reviled, I endured all; And now the Seer, who called me till my call Was perfect, leads me to this last dismay. … ’Tis not the altar-stone where men did slay My father; ’tis a block, a block with gore Yet hot, that waits me, of one slain before.
Yet not of God unheeded shall we lie. There cometh after, one who lifteth high The downfallen; a branch where blossometh A sire’s avenging and a mother’s death. Exiled and wandering, from this land outcast, One day He shall return, and set the last Crown on these sins that have his house downtrod. For, lo, there is a great oath sworn of God, His father’s upturned face shall guide him home.
Why should I grieve? Why pity these men’s doom? I who have seen the City of Ilion Pass as she passed; and they who cast her down Have thus their end, as God gives judgement sure. …
I go to drink my cup. I will endure To die. O Gates, Death-Gates, all hail to you! Only, pray God the blow be stricken true! Pray God, unagonized, with blood that flows Quick unto friendly death, these eyes may close!
Leader: O full of sorrows, full of wisdom great, Woman, thy speech is a long anguish; yet, Knowing thy doom, why walkst thou with clear eyes, Like some god-blinded beast, to sacrifice?
Cassandra: There is no escape, friends; only vain delay.
Leader: Is not the later still the sweeter day?
Cassandra: The day is come. Small profit now to fly.