Part 9 (1/2)
I, false to him, seemed prophet false to all.
CHORUS
Not so--to us at least thy words seem sooth.
Ca.s.sANDRA
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 s.h.i.+ps, 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 h.e.l.l, 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.
Ca.s.sANDRA
'Tis Agamemnon's doom thou shalt behold.
CHORUS
Peace, hapless woman, to thy boding words!
Ca.s.sANDRA
Far from my speech stands he who sains and saves.
CHORUS
Ay--were such doom at hand--which G.o.d forbid!
Ca.s.sANDRA
Thou prayest idly--these move swift to slay.
CHORUS
What man prepares a deed of such despite?
Ca.s.sANDRA
Fool! thus to read amiss mine oracles.
CHORUS
Deviser and device are dark to me.
Ca.s.sANDRA