With unborn child o'erweighed, I dreamed a dream
That I had borne a flaming brand. And though,
Cassandra-like, I told my fears, my warnings,
Like our Cassandra's words in after time,
Were all in vain. 'Tis not the Ithacan,
Nor yet his trusty comrade of the night,
Nor that false traitor, Sinon, who has cast
The flaming brands that wrought our overthrow:
Mine is the fire—'tis by my brands ye burn.40
But why dost thou bewail the city's fall,