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KASSANDRA.
Well then, the oracle from veils no longer
Shall be outlooking, like a bride new-married:
But bright it seems, against the sun’s uprisings
1180
Breathing, to penetrate thee: so as, wave-like,
To wash against the rays a woe much greater
Than this. I will no longer teach by riddles.
And witness, running with me, that of evils
Done long ago, I nosing track the footstep!
1185
For, this same roof here — never quits a Choros
One-voiced, not well-tuned since no
well it utters:
And truly having drunk, to get more courage,
Man’s blood — the Komos keeps within the household
— Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies:
1190
They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting —
The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth at
The Brother’s bed, to him who spurned it hostile.
Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman?
False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler?
1195
Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not
By other’s word the old sins of this household!
Well then, the oracle from veils no longer
Shall be outlooking, like a bride new-married:
But bright it seems, against the sun’s uprisings
1180
Breathing, to penetrate thee: so as, wave-like,
To wash against the rays a woe much greater
Than this. I will no longer teach by riddles.
And witness, running with me, that of evils
Done long ago, I nosing track the footstep!
1185
For, this same roof here — never quits a Choros
One-voiced, not well-tuned since no
well it utters:
And truly having drunk, to get more courage,
Man’s blood — the Komos keeps within the household
— Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies:
1190
They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting —
The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth at
The Brother’s bed, to him who spurned it hostile.
Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman?
False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler?
1195
Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not
By other’s word the old sins of this household!
CHOROS.
And how should oath, bond honourably binding,
Become thy cure? No less I wonder at thee
— That thou, beyond sea reared, a strange-tongued city
1200
Shouldst hit in speaking, just as if thou stood’st by!
1202
And how should oath, bond honourably binding,
Become thy cure? No less I wonder at thee
— That thou, beyond sea reared, a strange-tongued city
1200
Shouldst hit in speaking, just as if thou stood’st by!
KASSANDRA.
Prophet Apollon put me in this office.
Prophet Apollon put me in this office.
CHOROS.
What, even though a god, with longing smitten?
What, even though a god, with longing smitten?
KASSANDRA.
At first, indeed, shame was to me to say this.
At first, indeed, shame was to me to say this.
CHOROS.
For, more relaxed grows everyone who fares well.
1205
For, more relaxed grows everyone who fares well.
1205
KASSANDRA.
But he was athlete to me — huge grace breathing!
But he was athlete to me — huge grace breathing!
CHOROS.
Well, to the work of children, went ye law’s way?
Well, to the work of children, went ye law’s way?
KASSANDRA.
Having consented, I played false to Loxias.
Having consented, I played false to Loxias.
CHOROS.
Already when the wits inspired possessed of?
Already when the wits inspired possessed of?
KASSANDRA.
Already townsmen all their woes I foretold.
1210
Already townsmen all their woes I foretold.
1210
CHOROS.
How wast thou then unhurt by Loxias’ anger?
How wast thou then unhurt by Loxias’ anger?
KASSANDRA.
I no one aught persuaded, when I sinned thus.
I no one aught persuaded, when I sinned thus.
CHOROS.
To us, at least, now sooth to say thou seemest.
To us, at least, now sooth to say thou seemest.
KASSANDRA.
Halloo, halloo, ah, evils!
Again, straightforward foresight’s fearful labour
1215
Whirls me, distracting with prelusive last-lays!
Behold ye those there, in the household seated, —
Young ones, — of dreams approaching to the figures?
Children, as if they died by their beloveds —
Hands they have filled with flesh, the meal domestic —
1220
Entrails and vitals both, most piteous burthen,
Plain they are holding! — which their father tasted!
For this, I say, plans punishment a certain
Lion ignoble, on the bed that wallows,
House-guard (ah, me!) to the returning master
1225
— Mine, since to bear the slavish yoke behoves me!
The ship’s commander,
Ilion
’s desolator,
Knows not what things the tongue of the lewd she-dog
Speaking, outspreading, shiny-souled, in fashion
Of Até hid, will reach to, by ill fortune!
1230
Such things she dares — the female, the male’s slayer!
She is . . . how calling her the hateful bite-beast
May I hit the mark? Some amphisbaina, — Skulla
Housing in rocks, of mariners the mischief,
Revelling Haides’ mother, — curse, no truce with,
1235
Breathing at friends! How piously she shouted,
The all-courageous, as at turn of battle!
She seems to joy at the back-bringing safety!
Of this, too, if I nought persuade, all’s one! Why?
What is to be will come. And soon thou, present,
1240
True prophet all too much wilt pitying style me.
1242
Halloo, halloo, ah, evils!
Again, straightforward foresight’s fearful labour
1215
Whirls me, distracting with prelusive last-lays!
Behold ye those there, in the household seated, —
Young ones, — of dreams approaching to the figures?
Children, as if they died by their beloveds —
Hands they have filled with flesh, the meal domestic —
1220
Entrails and vitals both, most piteous burthen,
Plain they are holding! — which their father tasted!
For this, I say, plans punishment a certain
Lion ignoble, on the bed that wallows,
House-guard (ah, me!) to the returning master
1225
— Mine, since to bear the slavish yoke behoves me!
The ship’s commander,
Ilion
’s desolator,
Knows not what things the tongue of the lewd she-dog
Speaking, outspreading, shiny-souled, in fashion
Of Até hid, will reach to, by ill fortune!
1230
Such things she dares — the female, the male’s slayer!
She is . . . how calling her the hateful bite-beast
May I hit the mark? Some amphisbaina, — Skulla
Housing in rocks, of mariners the mischief,
Revelling Haides’ mother, — curse, no truce with,
1235
Breathing at friends! How piously she shouted,
The all-courageous, as at turn of battle!
She seems to joy at the back-bringing safety!
Of this, too, if I nought persuade, all’s one! Why?
What is to be will come. And soon thou, present,
1240
True prophet all too much wilt pitying style me.
CHOROS.
Thuestes’ feast, indeed, on flesh of children,
I went with, and I shuddered. Fear too holds me
Listing what’s true as life, nowise out-imaged.
Thuestes’ feast, indeed, on flesh of children,
I went with, and I shuddered. Fear too holds me
Listing what’s true as life, nowise out-imaged.
KASSANDRA.
I say, thou Agamemnon’s fate shalt look on.
1245
I say, thou Agamemnon’s fate shalt look on.
1245
CHOROS.
Speak good words, O unhappy! Set mouth sleeping!
Speak good words, O unhappy! Set mouth sleeping!
KASSANDRA.
But Paian stands in no stead to the speech here.
But Paian stands in no stead to the speech here.
CHOROS.
Nay, if the thing be near: but never be it!
Nay, if the thing be near: but never be it!
KASSANDRA.
Thou, indeed, prayest: they to kill are busy.
Thou, indeed, prayest: they to kill are busy.
CHOROS.
Of what man is it ministered, this sorrow?
1250
Of what man is it ministered, this sorrow?
1250
KASSANDRA.
There again, wide thou look’st of my foretellings.
There again, wide thou look’st of my foretellings.
CHOROS.
For, the fulfiller’s scheme I have not gone with.
For, the fulfiller’s scheme I have not gone with.
KASSANDRA.
And yet too well I know the speech Hellenic.
And yet too well I know the speech Hellenic.
CHOROS.
For Puthian oracles, thy speech, and hard too.
For Puthian oracles, thy speech, and hard too.
KASSANDRA
Papai: what fire this! and it comes upon me!
1255
Ototoi, Lukeion Apollon, ah me — me!
She, the two-footed lioness that sleeps with
The wolf, in absence of the generous lion,
Kills me the unhappy one: and as a poison
Brewing, to put my price too in the anger,
1260
She vows, against her mate this weapon whetting
To pay him back the bringing me, with slaughter.
Why keep I then these things to make me laughed at,
Both wands and, round my neck, oracular fillets?
Thee, at least, ere my own fate will I ruin:
1265
Go, to perdition falling! Boons exchange we —
Some other Até in my stead make wealthy!
See there — himself, Apollon stripping from me
The oracular garment! having looked upon me
— Even in these adornments, laughed by friends at,
1270
As good as foes, i’ the balance weighed: and vainly —
For, called crazed stroller, — as I had been gipsy,
Beggar, unhappy, starved to death, — I bore it.
And now the Prophet — prophet me undoing,
Has led away to these so deadly fortunes!
1275
Instead of my sire’s altar, waits the hack-block
She struck with first warm bloody sacrificing!
Yet nowise unavenged of gods will death be:
For there shall come another, our avenger,
The mother-slaying scion, father’s doomsman:
1280
Fugitive, wanderer, from this land an exile,
Back shall he come, — for friends, copestone these curses!
For there is sworn a great oath from the gods that
Him shall bring hither his fallen sire’s prostration.
Why make I then, like an indweller, moaning?
1285
Since at the first I foresaw
Ilion
’s city
Suffering as it has suffered: and who took it,
Thus by the judgment of the gods are faring.
I go, will suffer, will submit to dying!
But, Haides’ gates — these same I call, I speak to,
1290
And pray that on an opportune blow chancing,
Without a struggle, — blood the calm death bringing
In easy outflow, — I this eye may close up!
1295
Papai: what fire this! and it comes upon me!
1255
Ototoi, Lukeion Apollon, ah me — me!
She, the two-footed lioness that sleeps with
The wolf, in absence of the generous lion,
Kills me the unhappy one: and as a poison
Brewing, to put my price too in the anger,
1260
She vows, against her mate this weapon whetting
To pay him back the bringing me, with slaughter.
Why keep I then these things to make me laughed at,
Both wands and, round my neck, oracular fillets?
Thee, at least, ere my own fate will I ruin:
1265
Go, to perdition falling! Boons exchange we —
Some other Até in my stead make wealthy!
See there — himself, Apollon stripping from me
The oracular garment! having looked upon me
— Even in these adornments, laughed by friends at,
1270
As good as foes, i’ the balance weighed: and vainly —
For, called crazed stroller, — as I had been gipsy,
Beggar, unhappy, starved to death, — I bore it.
And now the Prophet — prophet me undoing,
Has led away to these so deadly fortunes!
1275
Instead of my sire’s altar, waits the hack-block
She struck with first warm bloody sacrificing!
Yet nowise unavenged of gods will death be:
For there shall come another, our avenger,
The mother-slaying scion, father’s doomsman:
1280
Fugitive, wanderer, from this land an exile,
Back shall he come, — for friends, copestone these curses!
For there is sworn a great oath from the gods that
Him shall bring hither his fallen sire’s prostration.
Why make I then, like an indweller, moaning?
1285
Since at the first I foresaw
Ilion
’s city
Suffering as it has suffered: and who took it,
Thus by the judgment of the gods are faring.
I go, will suffer, will submit to dying!
But, Haides’ gates — these same I call, I speak to,
1290
And pray that on an opportune blow chancing,
Without a struggle, — blood the calm death bringing
In easy outflow, — I this eye may close up!
CHOROS.
O much unhappy, but, again, much learned
1295
Woman, long hast thou outstretched! But if truly
Thou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like to
A god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest?
O much unhappy, but, again, much learned
1295
Woman, long hast thou outstretched! But if truly
Thou knowest thine own fate, how comes that, like to
A god-led steer, to altar bold thou treadest?
KASSANDRA.
There’s no avoidance, — strangers, no some time more!
There’s no avoidance, — strangers, no some time more!
CHOROS.
He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged.
1300
He last is, anyhow, by time advantaged.
1300
KASSANDRA.
It comes, the day: I shall by flight gain little.
It comes, the day: I shall by flight gain little.
CHOROS.
But know thou patient art from thy brave spirit!
But know thou patient art from thy brave spirit!
KASSANDRA.
Such things hears no one of the happy-fortuned.
Such things hears no one of the happy-fortuned.
CHOROS.
But gloriously to die — for man is grace, sure.
But gloriously to die — for man is grace, sure.
KASSANDRA.
Ah, sire, for thee and for thy noble children!
1305
Ah, sire, for thee and for thy noble children!
1305
CHOROS.
But what thing is it? What fear turns thee backwards?
But what thing is it? What fear turns thee backwards?
KASSANDRA.
Alas, alas!
Alas, alas!
CHOROS.
Why this
Alas! if ’t is no spirit’s loathing?
Why this
Alas! if ’t is no spirit’s loathing?
KASSANDRA.
Slaughter blood-dripping does the household smell of!
Slaughter blood-dripping does the household smell of!
CHOROS.
How else? This scent is of hearth-sacrifices.
1310
How else? This scent is of hearth-sacrifices.
1310
KASSANDRA.
Such kind of steam as from a tomb is proper!
Such kind of steam as from a tomb is proper!
CHOROS.
No Surian honour to the House thou speak’st of!
No Surian honour to the House thou speak’st of!
KASSANDRA.
But I will go, — even in the household wailing
My fate and Agamemnon’s. Life suffice me!
Ah, strangers!
1315
I cry not
ah — as bird at bush — through terror
Idly! to me, the dead this much bear witness:
When, for me — woman, there shall die a woman,
And, for a man ill-wived, a man shall perish!
This hospitality I ask as dying.
1320
But I will go, — even in the household wailing
My fate and Agamemnon’s. Life suffice me!
Ah, strangers!
1315
I cry not
ah — as bird at bush — through terror
Idly! to me, the dead this much bear witness:
When, for me — woman, there shall die a woman,
And, for a man ill-wived, a man shall perish!
This hospitality I ask as dying.
1320
CHOROS.
O sufferer, thee — thy foretold fate I pity.
O sufferer, thee — thy foretold fate I pity.
KASSANDRA.
Yet once for all, to speak a speech, I fain am:
No dirge, mine for myself! The sun I pray to,
Fronting his last light! — to my own avengers —
That from my hateful slayers they exact too
1325
Pay for the dead slave — easy-managed hand’s work!
1331
Yet once for all, to speak a speech, I fain am:
No dirge, mine for myself! The sun I pray to,
Fronting his last light! — to my own avengers —
That from my hateful slayers they exact too
1325
Pay for the dead slave — easy-managed hand’s work!
CHOROS.
Alas for mortal matters! Happy-fortuned, —
Why, any shade would turn them: if unhappy,
By throws the wetting sponge has spoiled the picture!
And more by much in mortals this I pity.
The being well-to-do —
Insatiate a desire of this
Born with all mortals is,
Nor any is there who
Well-being forces off, aroints
From roofs whereat a finger points,
No more come in! exclaiming. This man, too,
To take the city of Priamos did the celestials give,
1335
And, honoured by the god, he homeward comes;
But now if, of the former, he shall pay
The blood back, and, for those who ceased to live,
Dying, for deaths in turn new punishment he dooms—
1340
Who, being mortal, would not pray
With an unmischievous
Daimon to have been born — who would not, hearing thus?
1343
Alas for mortal matters! Happy-fortuned, —
Why, any shade would turn them: if unhappy,
By throws the wetting sponge has spoiled the picture!
And more by much in mortals this I pity.
The being well-to-do —
Insatiate a desire of this
Born with all mortals is,
Nor any is there who
Well-being forces off, aroints
From roofs whereat a finger points,
No more come in! exclaiming. This man, too,
To take the city of Priamos did the celestials give,
1335
And, honoured by the god, he homeward comes;
But now if, of the former, he shall pay
The blood back, and, for those who ceased to live,
Dying, for deaths in turn new punishment he dooms—
1340
Who, being mortal, would not pray
With an unmischievous
Daimon to have been born — who would not, hearing thus?
AGAMEMNON.
Ah me! I am struck — a right-aimed stroke within me!
1344
Ah me! I am struck — a right-aimed stroke within me!
CHOROS.
Silence! Who is it shouts
stroke —
right-aimedly a wounded one?
1345
Silence! Who is it shouts
stroke —
right-aimedly a wounded one?
AGAMEMNON.
Ah me! indeed again, — a second, struck by!
1345
1346
Ah me! indeed again, — a second, struck by!
1345
CHOROS.
This work seems to me completed by this
Ah me of the king’s;
But we somehow may together share in solid counsellings.
1348
This work seems to me completed by this
Ah me of the king’s;
But we somehow may together share in solid counsellings.
CHOROS 1.
I, in the first place, my opinion tell you:
— To cite the townsmen, by help-cry, to house here.
I, in the first place, my opinion tell you:
— To cite the townsmen, by help-cry, to house here.
CHOROS 2.
To me, it seems we ought to fall upon them
1350
At quickest — prove the fact by sword fresh-flowing!
To me, it seems we ought to fall upon them
1350
At quickest — prove the fact by sword fresh-flowing!
CHOROS 3.
And I, of such opinion the partaker,
Vote — to do something: not to wait — the main point!
And I, of such opinion the partaker,
Vote — to do something: not to wait — the main point!
CHOROS 4.
’T is plain to see: for they prelude as though of
A tyranny the signs they gave the city.
1355
’T is plain to see: for they prelude as though of
A tyranny the signs they gave the city.
1355
CHOROS 5.
For we waste time; while they, — this waiting’s glory
Treading to ground, — allow the hand no slumber.
For we waste time; while they, — this waiting’s glory
Treading to ground, — allow the hand no slumber.
CHOROS 6.
I know not — chancing on some plan — to tell it:
’T is for the doer to plan of the deed also.
I know not — chancing on some plan — to tell it:
’T is for the doer to plan of the deed also.
CHOROS 7.
And I am such another: since I’m schemeless
1360
How to raise up again by words — a dead man!
And I am such another: since I’m schemeless
1360
How to raise up again by words — a dead man!
CHOROS 8.
What, and, protracting life, shall we give way thus
To the disgracers of our home, these rulers?
What, and, protracting life, shall we give way thus
To the disgracers of our home, these rulers?
CHOROS 9.
Why, ’t is unbearable: but to die is better:
For death than tyranny is the riper finish!
1365
Why, ’t is unbearable: but to die is better:
For death than tyranny is the riper finish!
1365
CHOROS 10.
What, by the testifying
Ah me of him,
Shall we prognosticate the man as perished?
What, by the testifying
Ah me of him,
Shall we prognosticate the man as perished?
CHOROS 11.
We must quite know ere speak these things concerning:
For to conjecture and
quite know are two things.
We must quite know ere speak these things concerning:
For to conjecture and
quite know are two things.
CHOROS 12.
This same to praise I from all sides abound in —
1370
Clearly to know — Atreides, what he’s doing!
1372
This same to praise I from all sides abound in —
1370
Clearly to know — Atreides, what he’s doing!
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Much having been before to purpose spoken,
The opposite to say I shall not shamed be:
For how should one, to enemies, — in semblance,
Friends, — enmity proposing, — sorrow’s net-frame
1375
Enclose, a height superior to outleaping?
To me, indeed, this struggle of old — not mindless
Of an old victory — came: with time, I grant you!
I stand where I have struck, things once accomplished:
And so have done, — and this deny I shall not, —
1380
As that his fate was nor to fly nor ward off.
A wrap-round with no outlet, as for fishes,
I fence about him — the rich woe of the garment:
I strike him twice, and in a double
Ah-me!
He let his limbs go — there! And to him, fallen,
1385
The third blow add I, giving — of Below-ground
Zeus, guardian of the dead — the votive favour.
Thus in the mind of him he rages, falling,
And blowing forth a brisk blood-spatter, strikes me
With the dark drop of slaughterous dew — rejoicing
1390
No less than, at the god-given dewy-comfort,
The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx.
Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, —
Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice: but I — boast!
If it were fit on corpse to pour libation,
1395
That would be right — right over and above, too!
The cup of evils in the house he, having
Filled with such curses, himself coming drinks of.
Much having been before to purpose spoken,
The opposite to say I shall not shamed be:
For how should one, to enemies, — in semblance,
Friends, — enmity proposing, — sorrow’s net-frame
1375
Enclose, a height superior to outleaping?
To me, indeed, this struggle of old — not mindless
Of an old victory — came: with time, I grant you!
I stand where I have struck, things once accomplished:
And so have done, — and this deny I shall not, —
1380
As that his fate was nor to fly nor ward off.
A wrap-round with no outlet, as for fishes,
I fence about him — the rich woe of the garment:
I strike him twice, and in a double
Ah-me!
He let his limbs go — there! And to him, fallen,
1385
The third blow add I, giving — of Below-ground
Zeus, guardian of the dead — the votive favour.
Thus in the mind of him he rages, falling,
And blowing forth a brisk blood-spatter, strikes me
With the dark drop of slaughterous dew — rejoicing
1390
No less than, at the god-given dewy-comfort,
The sown-stuff in its birth-throes from the calyx.
Since so these things are, — Argives, my revered here, —
Ye may rejoice — if ye rejoice: but I — boast!
If it were fit on corpse to pour libation,
1395
That would be right — right over and above, too!
The cup of evils in the house he, having
Filled with such curses, himself coming drinks of.
CHOROS.
We wonder at thy tongue: since bold-mouthed truly
Is she who in such speech boasts o’er her husband I
1400
We wonder at thy tongue: since bold-mouthed truly
Is she who in such speech boasts o’er her husband I
1400
KLUTAIMNESTRA.
Ye test me as I were a witless woman:
But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowers
Say (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me,
Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon,
My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,
1405
Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.
Ye test me as I were a witless woman:
But I — with heart intrepid — to you knowers
Say (and thou — if thou wilt or praise or blame me,
Comes to the same) — this man is Agamemnon,
My husband, dead, the work of the right hand here,
1405
Ay, of a just artificer: so things are.
Agamemnon. Aeschylus. London. 1889.
Sponsored by Perseus Project, Tufts University.