Chorus.
Follow! She counsels for thy need the best: 1020
Be thou persuaded;—leave thy chariot-seat.
Clytemnestra.
No leisure have I here before the gates
To linger; for, beside the central hearth,
The victims wait the sacrificial fire;
A favour that our fondest hope transcends.
But thou, if aught wilt do of what I say,
Make no delay; but if, of sense bereft,
Thou canst not catch the meaning of my words,
In lieu of voice, speak with barbarian hand.
Chorus.
A clear interpreter the stranger needs: 1030
Distraught she seems, like creature newly caught.
Clytemnestra.
Nay, she is mad; to her distempered thoughts
She listens; from a newly-captured town
She cometh here, nor knows the yoke to bear,
Till quelled in foam the passion of her blood.
But words I'll waste no more, thus to be scorned.
[Exit.
Chorus.
But I, by pity moved, will not be wroth;
Come, wretched sufferer, this car forsake;
To Fortune yielding, hansel this new yoke.
Cassandra. Strophe I.
Ah me! alas! Gods, Earth!
Apollo, O Apollo!1040