Cass. Ah! a hideous den, abhorred of Heaven,
Guilt-stained with strangled lives.... Ah! faugh!
Cho. Her scent is keen, this stranger’s! Like a hound
She snuffs for blood. And she will find, I doubt me.[[19]]
In a long recital, Cassandra recounts the ancient crimes of the Atridæ; and in dark oracular language moans that there is worse behind. The old men are perplexed. They cannot follow her meaning, though over and over again she struggles to make clear the doom that is even now about to fall.
Cass. Ah! what is this? Oh me!
What strange new grief is risen?
A deed of might ...
An act
Of hate for love; and succour bides aloof,
Far, far away.
Cho. This prophecy is dark to me....
Cass. ... ’Twill come,
‘Tis here! She lifts her hand; she launches at him
Blow following blow!
Cho. Thy speech appals me.
Cass. Woe! For my hapless doom!
To fill the cup, I tell my own sad tale!
Why hast thou brought me to this place? Oh misery!
To die with thee? What else? To die!... To die!...
Paris, thy wedding hath destroyed thy house,
Yea, and thy sister!—O Scamander stream!
Our fathers drank of thee and by thy shore
I grew, I flourished. Oh unhappy I!
But now by dark Cocytus and the banks
Of Acheron, my prophecies shall sound.[[19]]
The Elders begin to understand; but still the drift of her message is only partly clear to them. They realize that she is distraught, fearing some dreadful fate for herself; they have, too, a glimmering fear of danger to the king. But they cannot comprehend what it may be; and the thought of succour never dawns upon their dull old wits. They speak gently to Cassandra; but again her message seems to tear her with its force and urgency.
“No longer, like a newly married girl,