This page has been proofread, but needs to be validated.
56
AESCHYLUS
vv. 1251–1267.

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.