d 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 armed man? ...
What fanged 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 wreathed bands, this staff of prophecy?
I mean to kill you first, before I die.
Begone!