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!

[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!