loves not grief nor lendeth ear to it.

CASSANDRA.

Otototoi ... Dreams. Dreams.
Apollo. O Apollo!

LEADER.

Still to that god she makes her sobbing cry
Who hath no place where men are sad, or die.

CASSANDRA.

Apollo, Apollo! Light of the Ways of Men!
Mine enemy!
Hast lighted me to darkness yet again?

SECOND ELDER.

How? Will she prophesy about her own
Sorrows? That power abides when all is gone!

CASSANDRA.

Apollo, Apollo! Light of all that is!
Mine enemy!
Where hast thou led me? ... Ha! What house is this?

LEADER.

The Atreidae's castle. If thou knowest not, I
Am here to help thee, and help faithfully.

CASSANDRA (_whispering_).

Nay, nay. This is the house that God hateth.
There be many things that know its secret; sore
And evil things; murders and strangling death.
'Tis here they slaughter men...A splashing floor.

SECOND ELDER.

Keen-sensed the strange maid seemeth, like a hound
For blood.--And what she seeks can sure be found!

CASSANDRA.

The witnesses ... I follow where they lead.
The crying ... of little children ... near the gate:
Crying for wounds that bleed:
And the smell of the baked meats their father ate.

SECOND ELDER (_recognizing her vision, and repelled_).

Word of thy mystic power had reached our ear
Long since. Howbeit we need no prophets here.

CASSANDRA.

Ah, ah! What would they? A new dreadful thing.
A great great sin plots in the house this day;
Too strong for the faithful, beyond medicining ...
And help stands far away.

LEADER.

This warning I can read not, though I knew
That other tale. It rings the city through.

CASSANDRA.

O Woman, thou! The lord who lay with thee!
Wilt lave with water, and then ... How speak the end?
It comes so quick. A hand ... another hand ...
That reach, reach gropingly....

LEADER.

I see not yet. These riddles, pierced with blind
Gleams of foreboding, but bemuse my mind.

CASSANDRA.

Ah, ah! What is it? There; it is coming clear.
A net ... some net of Hell.
Nay, she that lies with him ... is she the snare?
And half of his blood upon it. It holds well....
O Crowd of ravening Voices, be glad, yea, shout
And cry for the stoning, cry for the casting out!

SECOND ELDER.

What Fury Voices call'st thou to be hot
Against this castle? Such words like me not.

And deep within my breast I felt that sick
And saffron drop, which creepeth to the heart
To die as the last rays of life depart.