And in harbour--mine own eye
Hath beheld--again they lie;
Yet that lyreless music hidden
Whispers still words of ill,
'Tis the Soul of me unbidden,
Like some Fury sorrow-ridden,
Weeping over things that die.
Neither waketh in my sense
Ever Hope's dear confidence;
For this flesh that groans within,
And these bones that know of Sin,
This tossed heart upon the spate
Of a whirpool that is Fate,
Surely these lie not. Yet deep
Beneath hope my prayer doth run,
All will die like dreams, and creep
To the unthought of and undone.
[_Strophe 2._
--Surely of great Weal at the end of all
Comes not Content; so near doth Fever crawl,
Close neighbour, pressing hard the narrow wall.
--Woe to him who fears not fate!
'Tis the ship that forward straight
Sweepeth, strikes the reef below;
He who fears and lightens weight,
Casting forth, in measured throw,
From the wealth his hand hath got ...
His whole ship shall founder not,
With abundance overfraught,
Nor deep seas above him flow.
--Lo, when famine stalketh near,
One good gift of Zeus again
From the furrows of one year
Endeth quick the starving pain;
[_Antistrophe 2._
--But once the blood of death is fallen, black
And oozing at a slain man's feet, alack!
By spell or singing who shall charm it back?
--One there was of old who showed
Man the path from death to day;
But Zeus, lifting up his rod,
Spared not, when he charged him stay.
--Save that every doom of God
Hath by other dooms its way
Crossed, that none may rule alone,
In one speech-outstripping groan
Forth had all this passion flown,
Which now murmuring hides away,
Full of pain, and hoping not
Ever one clear thread to unknot
From the tangle of my soul,
From a heart of burning coal.
[_Suddenly_ CLYTEMNESTRA _appears standing in the Doorway._
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Thou likewise, come within! I speak thy name,
Cassandra;
[CASSANDRA _trembles, but continues to stare in front of her, as though
not hearing_ CLYTEMNESTRA.
seeing the Gods--why chafe at them?--
Have placed thee here, to share within these walls
Our lustral waters, 'mid a crowd of thralls
Who stand obedient round the altar-stone
Of our Possession. Therefore come thou down,
And be not over-proud. The tale is told
How once Alcmena's son himself, being sold,
Was patient, though he liked not the slaves' mess.
And more, if Fate must bring thee to this stress,
Praise God thou art come to a House of high report
And wealth from long ago. The baser sort,
Who have reaped some sudden harvest unforeseen,
Are ever cruel to their slaves, and mean
In the measure. We shall give whate'er is due.
[CASSANDRA _is silent._
LEADER.
To thee she speaks, and waits ... clear words and true!
Oh, doom is all around thee like a net;
Yield, if thou canst.... Belike thou canst not yet.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Methinks, unless this wandering maid is one
Voiced like a swallow-bird, with tongue unknown
And barbarous, she can read my plain intent.
I use but words, and ask for her consent.
LEADER.
Ah, come! Tis best, as the world lies to-day.
Leave this high-throned chariot, and obey!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
How long must I stand dallying at the Gate?
Even now the beasts to Hestia consecrate
Wait by the midmost fire, since there is wrought
This high fulfilment for which no man thought.
Wherefore, if 'tis thy pleasure to obey
Aught of my will, prithee, no more delay!
If, dead to sense, thou wilt not understand...
Thou show her, not with speech but with brute hand!
[_To the Leader of the_ CHORUS.
LEADER.
The strange maid needs a rare interpreter.
She is trembling like a wild beast in a snare.
CLYTEMNESTRA.
'Fore God, she is mad, and heareth but her own
Folly! A slave, her city all o'erthrown,
She needs must chafe her bridle, till this fret
Be foamed away in blood and bitter sweat.
I waste no more speech, thus to be defied.
[_She goes back inside the Palace_.
LEADER.
I pity thee so sore, no wrath nor pride
Is in me.--Come, dismount! Bend to the stroke
Fate lays on thee, and learn to feel thy yoke.
[_He lays his hand softly on_ CASSANDRA'S _shoulder_.
CASSANDRA (_moaning to herself_).
Otototoi ... Dreams. Dreams.
Apollo. O Apollo!
SECOND ELDER.
Why sob'st thou for Apollo? It is writ,
He 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.
Misfortune comes so quick.
CASSANDRA.
Ah, look! Look! Keep his mate from the Wild Bull!
A tangle of raiment, see;
A black horn, and a blow, and he falleth, full
In the marble amid the water. I counsel ye.
I speak plain ... Blood in the bath and treachery!
LEADER.
No great interpreter of oracles
Am I; but this, I think, some mischief spells.
What spring of good hath seercraft ever made
Up from the dark to flow?
'Tis but a weaving of words, a craft of woe,
To make mankind afraid.
CASSANDRA.
Poor woman! Poor dead woman! ... Yea, it is I,
Poured out like water among them. Weep for me....
Ah! What is this place? Why must I come with thee....
To die, only to die?
LEADER.
Thou art borne on the breath of God, thou spirit wild,
For thine own weird to wail,
Like to that winged voice, that heart so sore
Which, crying alway, hungereth to cry more,
"Itylus, Itylus," till it sing her child
Back to the nightingale.
CASSANDRA.
Oh, happy Singing Bird, so sweet, so clear!
Soft wings for her God made,
And an easy passing, without pain or tear ...
For me 'twill be torn flesh and rending blade.
SECOND ELDER.
Whence is it sprung, whence wafted on God's breath,
This anguish reasonless?
This throbbing of terror shaped to melody,
Moaning of evil blent with music high?
Who hath marked out for thee that mystic path
Through thy woe's wilderness?
CASSANDRA.
Alas for the kiss, the kiss of Paris, his people's bane!
Alas for Scamander Water, the water my fathers drank!
Long, long ago, I played about thy bank,
And was cherished and grew strong;
Now by a River of Wailing, by shores of Pain,
Soon shall I make my song.
LEADER.
How sayst thou? All too clear,
This ill word thou hast laid upon thy mouth!
A babe could read thee plain.
It stabs within me like a serpent's tooth,
The bitter thrilling music of her pain:
I marvel as I hear.
CASSANDRA.
Alas for the toil, the toil of a City, worn unto death!
Alas for my father's worship before the citadel,
The flocks that bled and the tumult of their breath!
But no help from them came
To save Troy Towers from falling as they fell!...
And I on the earth shall writhe, my heart aflame.
SECOND ELDER.
Dark upon dark, new ominous words of ill!
Sure there hath swept on thee some Evil Thing,
Crushing, which makes thee bleed
And in the torment of thy vision sing
These plaining death-fraught oracles ... Yet still, still,
Their end I cannot read!
CASSANDRA.
[_By an effort she regains mastery of herself, and speaks directly to
the Leader_.
'Fore God, mine oracle shall no more hide
With veils his visage, like a new-wed bride!
A shining wind out of this dark shall blow,
Piercing the dawn, growing as great waves grow,
To burst in the heart of sunrise ... stronger far
Than this poor pain of mine. I will not mar
With mists my wisdom.
Be near me as I go,
Tracking the evil things of long ago,
And bear me witness. For this roof, there clings
Music about it, like a choir which sings
One-voiced, but not well-sounding, for not good
The words are. Drunken, drunken, and with blood,
To make them dare the more, a revelling rout
Is in the rooms, which no man shall cast out,
Of sister Furies. And they weave to song,
Haunting the House, its first blind deed of wrong,
Spurning in turn that King's bed desecrate,
Defiled, which paid a brother's sin with hate....
Hath it missed or struck, mine arrow? Am I a poor
Dreamer, that begs and babbles at the door?
Give first thine oath in witness, that I know
Of this great dome the sins wrought long ago.
ELDER.
And how should oath of mine, though bravely sworn,
Appease thee? Yet I marvel that one born
Far over seas, of alien speech, should fall
So apt, as though she had lived here and seen all.
CASSANDRA.
The Seer Apollo made me too to see.
ELDER (_in a low voice_).
Was the God's heart pierced with desire for thee?
CASSANDRA.
Time was, I held it shame hereof to speak.
ELDER.
Ah, shame is for the mighty, not the weak.
CASSANDRA.
We wrestled, and his breath to me was sweet.
ELDER.
Ye came to the getting of children, as is meet?
CASSANDRA.
I swore to Loxias, and I swore a lie.
ELDER.
Already thine the gift of prophecy?
CASSANDRA.
Already I showed my people all their path.
ELDER.
And Loxias did not smite thee in his wrath?
CASSANDRA.
After that sin ... no man believed me more.
ELDER.
Nay, then, to us thy wisdom seemeth sure.
CASSANDRA.
Oh, oh! Agony, agony!
Again the awful pains of prophecy
Are on me, maddening as they fall....
Ye see them there ... beating against the wall?
So young ... like shapes that gather in a dream ...
Slain by a hand they loved. Children they seem,
Murdered ... and in their hands they bear baked meat:
I think it is themselves. Yea, flesh; I see it;
And 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!
[_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!
LEADER.
O full of sorrows, full of wisdom great,
Woman, thy speech is a long anguish; yet,
Knowing thy doom, why walkst thou with clear eyes,
Like some god-blinded beast, to sacrifice?
CASSANDRA.
There is no escape, friends; only vain delay.
LEADER.
Is not the later still the sweeter day?
CASSANDRA.
The day is come. Small profit now to fly.
LEADER.
Through all thy griefs, Woman, thy heart is high.
CASSANDRA.
Alas! None that is happy hears that praise.
LEADER.
Are not the brave dead blest in after days?
CASSANDRA.
O Father! O my brethren brave, I come!
[_She moves towards the House, but recoils shuddering._
LEADER.
What frights thee? What is that thou startest from?
CASSANDRA.
Ah, faugh! Faugh!
LEADER.
What turns thee in that blind
Horror? Unless some loathing of the mind ...
CASSANDRA.
Death drifting from the doors, and blood like rain!
LEADER.
'Tis but the dumb beasts at the altar slain.
CASSANDRA.
And vapours from a charnel-house ... See there!
LEADER.
'Tis Tyrian incense clouding in the air.
CASSANDRA (_recovering herself again_).
So be it!--I will go, in yonder room
To weep mine own and Agamemnon's doom.
May death be all! Strangers, I am no bird
That pipeth trembling at a thicket stirred
By the empty wind. Bear witness on that day
When woman for this woman's life shall pay,
And man for man ill-mated low shall lie:
I ask this boon, as being about to die.
LEADER.
Alas, I pity thee thy mystic fate!
CASSANDRA.
One word, one dirge-song would I utter yet
O'er mine own corpse. To this last shining Sun
I pray that, when the Avenger's work is done,
His enemies may remember this thing too,
This little thing, the woman slave they slew!
O world of men, farewell! A painted show
Is all thy glory; and when life is low
The touch of a wet sponge out-blotteth all.
Oh, sadder this than any proud man's fall! [_She goes into the House._
CHORUS.
Great Fortune is an hungry thing,
And filleth no heart anywhere,
Though men with fingers menacing
Point at the great house, none will dare,
When Fortune knocks, to bar the door
Proclaiming: "Come thou here no more!"
Lo, to this man the Gods have given
Great Ilion in the dust to tread
And home return, emblazed of heaven;
If it is writ, he too shall go
Through blood for blood spilt long ago;
If he too, dying for the dead,
Should crown the deaths of alien years,
What mortal afar off, who hears,
Shall boast him Fortune's Child, and led
Above the eternal tide of tears? [_A sudden Cry from within._
VOICE.
Ho! Treason in the house! I am wounded: slain.
LEADER.
Hush! In the castle! 'Twas a cry
Of some man wounded mortally.
VOICE.
Ah God, another! I am stricken again.
LEADER.
I think the deed is done. It was the King
Who groaned.... Stand close, and think if anything....
[_The Old Men gather together under the shock, and debate confusedly._
ELDER B.
I give you straight my judgement. Summon all
The citizens to rescue. Sound a call!
ELDER C.
No, no! Burst in at once without a word!
In, and convict them by their dripping sword!
ELDER D.
Yes; that or something like it. Quick, I say,
Be doing! 'Tis a time for no delay.
ELDER E.
We have time to think. This opening ... They have planned
Some scheme to make enslavement of the land.
ELDER F.
Yes, while we linger here! They take no thought
Of lingering, and their sword-arm sleepeth not!
ELDER G.
I have no counsel. I can speak not. Oh,
Let him give counsel who can strike a blow!
ELDER H.
I say as this man says. I have no trust
In words to raise a dead man from the dust.
ELDER I.
How mean you? Drag out our poor lives, and stand
Cowering to these defilers of the land?
ELDER J.
Nay, 'tis too much! Better to strive and die!
Death is an easier doom than slavery.
ELDER K.
We heard a sound of groaning, nothing plain,
How know we--are we seers?--that one is slain?
ELDER L.
Oh, let us find the truth out, ere we grow
Thus passionate! To surmise is not to know.
LEADER.
Break in, then! 'Tis the counsel ye all bring,
And learn for sure, how is it with the King.
[_They cluster up towards the Palace Door, as though to force an
entrance, when the great Door swings open, revealing_ CLYTEMNESTRA, _who
stands, axe in hand, over the dead bodies of_ AGAMEMNON _and_ CASSANDRA.
_The body of_ AGAMEMNON _is wrapped in a rich crimson web. There is blood
on_ CLYTEMNESTRA'S_ brow, and she speaks in wild triumph._
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Oh, lies enough and more have I this day
Spoken, which now I shame not to unsay.
How should a woman work, to the utter end,
Hate on a damned hater, feigned a friend;
How pile perdition round him, hunter-wise,
Too high for overleaping, save by lies?
To me this hour was dreamed of long ago;
A thing of ancient hate. 'Twas very slow
In coming, but it came. And here I stand
Even where I struck, with all the deed I planned
Done! 'Twas so wrought--what boots it to deny?--
The man could neither guard himself nor fly.
An endless web, as by some fisher strung,
A deadly plenteousness of robe, I flung
All round him, and struck twice; and with two cries
His limbs turned water and broke; and as he lies
I cast my third stroke in, a prayer well-sped
To Zeus of Hell, who guardeth safe his dead!
So there he gasped his life out as he lay;
And, gasping, the blood spouted ... Like dark spray
That splashed, it came, a salt and deathly dew;
Sweet, sweet as God's dear rain-drops ever blew
O'er a parched field, the day the buds are born! ...
Which things being so, ye Councillors high-born,
Depart in joy, if joy ye will. For me,
I glory. Oh, if such a thing might be
As o'er the dead thank-offering to outpour,
On this dead it were just, aye, just and more,
Who filled the cup of the House with treacheries
Curse-fraught, and here hath drunk it to the lees!
LEADER.
We are astonied at thy speech. To fling,
Wild mouth! such vaunt over thy murdered King!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Wouldst fright me, like a witless woman? Lo,
This bosom shakes not. And, though well ye know,
I tell you ... Curse me as ye will, or bless,
'Tis all one ... This is Agamemnon; this,
My husband, dead by my right hand, a blow
Struck by a righteous craftsman. Aye, 'tis so.
CHORUS.
Woman, what evil tree,
What poison grown of the ground
Or draught of the drifting sea
Way to thy lips hath found,
Making thee clothe thy heart
In rage, yea, in curses burning
When thine own people pray?
Thou hast hewn, thou hast cast away;
And a thing cast away thou art,
A thing of hate and a spurning!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
Aye, now, for me, thou hast thy words of fate;
Exile from Argos and the people's hate
For ever! Against him no word was cried,
When, recking not, as 'twere a beast that died,
With flocks abounding o'er his wide domain,
He slew his child, my love, my flower of pain, ...
Great God, as magic for the winds of Thrace!
Why was not he man-hunted from his place,
To purge the blood that stained him? ... When the deed
Is mine, oh, then thou art a judge indeed!
But threat thy fill. I am ready, and I stand
Content; if thy hand beateth down my hand,
Thou rulest. If aught else be God's decree,
Thy lesson shall be learned, though late it be.
CHORUS.
Thy thought, it is very proud;
Thy breath is the scorner's breath;
Is not the madness loud
In thy heart, being drunk with death?
Yea, and above thy brow
A star of the wet blood burneth!
Oh, doom shall have yet her day,
The last friend cast away,
When lie doth answer lie
And a stab for a stab returneth!
CLYTEMNESTRA.
And heark what Oath-gods gather to my side!
By my dead child's Revenge, now satisfied,
By Mortal Blindness, by all Powers of Hell
Which Hate, to whom in sacrifice he fell,
My Hope shall walk not in the house of Fear,
While on my hearth one fire yet burneth clear,
One lover, one Aigisthos, as of old!
What should I fear, when fallen here I hold
This foe, this scorner of his wife, this toy
And fool of each Chryseis under Troy;
And there withal his soothsayer and slave,
His chanting bed-fellow, his leman brave,
Who rubbed the galleys' benches at his side.
But, oh, they had their guerdon as they died!
For he lies thus, and she, the wild swan's way,
Hath trod her last long weeping roundelay,
And lies, his lover, ravisht o'er the main
For his bed's comfort and my deep disdain. |
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