CHOROS.

What evil, O woman, food or drink, earth-bred

Or sent from the flowing sea,

Of such having fed

Didst thou set on thee

This sacrifice

And popular cries

Of a curse on thy head?

1410

Off thou hast thrown him, off hast cut

The man from the city: but —

Off from the city thyself shalt be

Cut — to the citizens

A hate immense!

KLUTAIMNESTRA.

Now, indeed, thou adjudgest exile to me,

And citizens’ hate, and to have popular curses:

Nothing of this against the man here bringing,

Who, no more awe-checked than as ’t were a beast’s fate, —

1415

With sheep abundant in the well-fleeced graze-flocks, —

Sacrificed his child, — dearest fruit of travail

To me, — as song-spell against Threkian blowings.

Not him did it behove thee hence to banish

— Pollution’s penalty? But hearing mzy deeds

1420

Justicer rough thou art! Now, this I tell thee:

To threaten thus — me, one prepared to have thee

(On like conditions, thy hand conquering) o’er me

Rule: but if God the opposite ordain us,

Thou shalt learn — late taught, certes — to be modest.

1425

CHOROS.

Greatly-intending thou art:

Much-mindful, too, hast thou cried

(Since thy mind, with its slaughter-outpouring part,

Is frantic) that over the eyes, a patch

Of blood — with blood to match —

Is plain for a pride!

Yet still, bereft of friends, thy fate

Is — blow with blow to expiate!

1430

CASSANDRA

There is no escape, strangers, nothing is to be gained by time 3

.

CHORUS

Yet the last has the advantage in time.

CASSANDRA

This day has arrived; 'tis little I shall gain by flight.

CHORUS

Be sure, thou hast stout resolution in thy undaunted spirit.

CASSANDRA

Yet to die gloriously is surely a gratification to a mortal.

CHORUS

No one hears these sentiments from the happy 4

.

CASSANDRA

Alas, my sire, for thee and for thy noble children!

CHORUS

What is the matter? what terror turns thee away?

CASSANDRA

Faugh! faugh!

CHORUS

Why criest thou, faugh! unless there be something which thy heart loaths?

CASSANDRA

The palace reeks with blood-dripping murder.

CHORUS

How sayest thou? this is the smell of victims at the hearth.

CASSANDRA

'Tis plainly like a fume from the grave.

CHORUS

No Syrian luxury art thou describing in the house.

CASSANDRA

But I will go to shriek over my own destiny and that of Agamemnon also within the palace. Enough of life. Alas, strangers! Yet do I not vainly quail in terror, like a bird at a bush 1

. Do ye bear this testimony to me dying, when a woman shall perish for me a woman, and a man shall fall for one that was ill-mated. These boons I claim from you as on the point of death.

CHORUS

Wretched one, I pity thec for thy predicted doom.

CASSANDRA

Yet once more do I wish to utter a speech, or mine own dirge 2

. And (looking upon) his light for the last time, I pray the sun, upon my hated murderers, that they may at the same time pay the penalty for a slave, that dies an easy victim, to my avengers their murderers 3

. Alas for the condition of mortals! them when prosperous a shadow may overturn; but if they be in adversity, a moistened sponge blots out the picture: and for this I have far greater pity thau for that.

CHORUS

CASSANDRE

Rien ne peut me sauver ; pourquoi gagner une heure ?

LE CORYPHÉE

Mais de l'heure dernière le prix est infini.

CASSANDRE

Non, le jour est venu : quel profit ai-je à fuir ?

LE CORYPHÉE

Sache que tel courage révèle une âme brave.

CASSANDRE

Voilà qu'on ne dit pas aux heureux de ce monde !

LE CORYPHÉE

Mourir glorieusement est un bienfait des dieux.

CASSANDRE

Ah ! pitié sur toi, père, et sur tes nobles fils !

LE CORYPHÉE

Qu'y a-t-il ? quelle crainte a ramené tes pas ?

CASSANDRE

(Avec horreur.)

Ah ! ah !

LE CORYPHÉE

Pourquoi ce cri ? quel monstre se forge donc ton âme ?

CASSANDRE

Ce palais sent le meurtre et le sang répandu.

LE CORYPHÉE

Dis qu'il sent les offrandes brûlées sur le foyer.

CASSANDRE

On dirait les vapeurs qui sortent d'un tombeau.

LE CORYPHÉE

Tu lui prêtes un parfum qui n'a rien de l'encens !

CASSANDRE

Allons ! j'irai donc gémir jusque chez les ombres et sur moi et sur Agamemnon. Assez de cette vie !

CASSANDRE

Ah !
étrangers... Ne voyez pas en moi un oiseau qui pépie, effrayé, devant un buisson. Je veux seulement qu'après ma mort de tout ceci vous témoigniez pour moi, le jour où, pour prix de mon sang, le sang d'une femme, une femme aussi versera le sien, et où, pour prix d'un homme perdu par son épouse,
un homme tombera. C'est le présent que de mes hôtes j'implore à l'heure de mourir.

LE CORYPHÉE

J'ai pitié, malheureuse, du sort que tu prévois.

CASSANDRE

Plus qu'un mot encore — je ne veux pas chanter mon propre thrène. Au soleil — face à sa clarté
suprême — j'adresse ma prière : puissent mes vengeurs comme mes meurtriers payer ensemble la dette ¹ de l'esclave morte ici, qui fut une proie si facile !

LE CORYPHÉE

Ah ! triste sort des hommes ! Leur bonheur est pareil à un croquis léger ; vient le malheur : trois coups d'éponge humide, c'en est fait du dessin ! Et
c'est cela, plus encore que ceci ² , qui m'emplit

CASSANDRA.

I cou’d not by delay eſcape my fate.

CHORUS.

Yet is there ſome advantage in delay.

CASSANDRA.

The day is come: by flight I ſhou'd gain little.

1460

CHORUS.

Thy boldness adds to thy unhappineſs.

CASSANDRA.

None of the happy ſhuns his deſtin’d end.

CHORUS.

True; but to die with glory crowns our praiſe.

CASSANDRA.

So died my father, ſo his noble ſons.

CHORUS.

What may this mean? Why backward doſt thou ſtart?

1465

Do thy own thoughts with horror ſtrike thy ſoul?

CASSANDRA.

The ſcent of blood and death breathes from this houſe.

CHORUS.

The victims now are bleeding at the altar.

CASSANDRA.

’Tis ſuch a ſmell as iſſues from the tomb.

CHORUS.

This is no Syrian odour in the houſe.

1470

CASSANDRA.

Such tho' it be, I enter, to bewail

My fate, and Agamemnon’s. To have liv’d,

Let it ſuffice.

And think not, gen’rous ſtrangers,

Like the poor bird that flutters o’er the bough,

1475

Thro' fear I linger.

But my dying words

You will remember, when her blood ſhall flow

For mine, woman’s for woman’s: and the man’s,

For his that falls by his accurſed wife.

1480

CHORUS.

Thy fate, poor ſufferer, fills my eyes with tears.

CASSANDRA.

Yet once more let me raiſe my mournful voice.

Thou Sun, whoſe riſing beams ſhall bleſs no more

These

CASSANDRA.

These cloſing eyes! You, whoſe vindictive rage

1485

Hangs o'er my hated murderers, Oh avenge me,

Tho', a poor ſlave, I fall an eaſy prey!

This is the ſtate of man: in profperous fortune

A ſhadow, paſſing light, throws to the ground n

Joy’s baſeleſs fabric:

1490

in adverſity

Comes malice with a ſpunge moiſten’d in gall,

And wipes each beauteous character away:

More than the firſt this melts my ſoul to pity.

CHORUS.

CASSANDRA

Scampo non v'è, no, amici, nell' indugio!

CORIFEO

Piú assai che l'altre, pregio han l'ultime ore.

CASSANDRA

E' questo il giorno. Differir che giova?

1515

CORIFEO

La forza tua te pazïente rende.

CASSANDRA

Niun dei felici ascolta elogi simili!

CORIFEO

Fregio è per l'uomo gloriosa morte.

CASSANDRA

si avanza verso la porta, e d'un tratto balza indietro sbigottita.

Oh!, padre mio! Miei nobili fratelli !

CORIFEO

Che avviene? Che terror ti caccia indietro?

1520

CASSANDRA

Ahimè! Ahimè!

CORIFEO

Che ti lagni cosí? Per qual ribrezzo ?

CASSANDRA

Spira la casa orror che sangue stilla!

CORIFEO

Come? Certo è l'odore delle vittime!

CASSANDRA

Spira un alito, come di sepolcro !

1525

CORIFEO

Non parli, no, d'una fragranza assiria!

CASSANDRA

Entro! E pur nella casa ululerò

la morte mia, la morte d'Agamènnone !

Basta la vita!

Ospiti, ahimè! Non gemo,

1530

come in cespuglio augel, di terror vano.

Voi rendete giustizia a me che muoio,

quando, invece di me donna, morrà

CASSANDRA

una donna, d'un uom che triste moglie

s' ebbe, un uomo cadrà.

1535

Già moribonda

questi doni ospitali io porgo a voi!

CORIFEO

La tua sorte feral compiango, o misera!

CASSANDRA

Anche una volta, sopra me, non lagrime,

parole esprimo. Imploro per questa ultima

1540

luce del sole, i miei vendicatori,

ché gli assassini insiem con l'altro scontino

il vile colpo onde perí la schiava.

Ahimè, sorte degli uomini! Fortuna

a un'ombra pinta assimigliar potresti ;

1545

e se giunge sventura, umida spugna

con pochi tratti la cancella.

E questo,

piú d'ogni cosa, mi sforza a pietà!

Entra nella reggia.

COREUTA I

Chor.

Thyestes' Mahl von seiner eig'nen Kinder Fleisch

verstand ich und entsetzte mich und schaud're noch,

1315

Chor.

wie du so deutlich ohne Gleichnishülle sprachst;

1245 doch diesem Spruche folgt mein Raten ohne Pfad.

Kassandra.

Ich sage, schauen wirst du Agamemnons Mord.

Chor.

Unsel'ge, hemme deiner Zunge Lästerung.

Kassandra.

Was ich zu sagen hab' ist alles lästerlich.

1320

Chor.

Ja, wenn es wahr wird, aber nimmer werd' es wahr.

Kassandra.

1250 Dein ist das Wünschen, andre rüsten sich zum Mord.

Chor.

Wer ist der Mann, der solche Freveltat beginnt?

Kassandra.

O, wie so schlecht verstandest du mein Seherwort.

Chor.

Nur wer die Tat vollbringen soll, verstand ich nicht.

1325

Kassandra.

Und doch war alles gut hellenisch, was ich sprach.

Chor.

1255 Hellenisch redet Delphi auch und dunkel doch.

Kassandra.

Weh,

das Fieber packt mich wieder.

Weh,

1330

Cassandra.

Friends, there is no avoidance in delay.

Chorus.

Yet who delays the longest, his the gain.

Cassandra.

The day is come—flight were small gain to me!

1500

Chorus.

O brave endurance of a soul resolved!

Cassandra.

That were ill praise, for those of happier doom.

Chorus.

All fame is happy, even famous death.

Cassandra.

Ah sire, ah brethren, famous once were ye!

[ She moves to enter the house, then starts back.

Chorus.

What fear is this that scares thee from the house?

1505

Cassandra.

Pah!

Chorus.

What is this cry? some dark despair of soul?

Cassandra.

Pah! the house fumes with stench and spilth of blood.

Chorus.

How? 'tis the smell of household offerings.

Cassandra.

'Tis rank as charnel-scent from open graves.

1510

Chorus.

Thou canst not mean this scented Syrian nard? ¹

Cassandra.

Nay, let me pass within to cry aloud

The monarch's fate and mine—enough of life.

Ah friends!

Bear to me witness, since I fall in death,

1515

That not as birds that shun the bush and scream ²

I moan in idle terror. This attest

When for my death's revenge another dies,

A woman for a woman, and a man

Falls, for a man ill-wedded to his curse.

1520

Grant me this boon—the last before I die.

Chorus.

Brave to the last! I mourn thy doom foreseen.

Cassandra.

Once more one utterance but not of wail,

Though for my death—and then I speak no more.

Sun! thou whose beam I shall not see again,

1525

To thee I cry, Let those whom vengeance calls

To slay their kindred's slayers, quit withal

The death of me, the slave, the fenceless prey. ³

Ah state of mortal man! in time of weal,

A line, a shadow! and if ill fate fall,

1530

One wet sponge-sweep wipes all our trace away—

And this I deem less piteous, of the twain.

[ Exit into the palace.

Chorus.

Kassandra.

Freund, keine Rettung gibt es, auch kein Zögern hilft.

Der Chorführer.

Doch wer der Leyte zögernd bleibt, gewinnt den Preis.

Kassandra.

Sie kam, die Stunde: wenig hülfe mir die Flucht.

1250

Der Chorführer.

In Jammer stürzt dich, glaube mir, so kühner Muth.

Kassandra.

Doch ruhmgekrönt zu sterben ist dem Menschen süß.

Der Chorführer.

Niemals vernimmt man solches Wort von Glücklichen.

Kassandra.

(Naht sich dem Palaste.)

Weh, Vater, dir, und deinen edeln Kindern weh!

Der Chorführer.

(Da Kassandra entsetzt sich abwendet.)

Was hast du? Welch' Entsegen schreckt dich scheu zurück?

1255

Kassandra.

Weh, weh!

Der Chorführer.

Was soll der Wehruf? Grauen wohl erfaßte dich.

Kassandra.

Mord hauchen diese Mauern, blutumtrieften Mord.

Der Chorführer.

Wie so? Vom Opferherde weht ein solcher Duft.

Kassandra.

Es steigen Moderdünste wie von Gräbern auf.

1260

Der Chorführer.

Kein Syrerkleinod, was du da vom Hause rühmst.

Kassandra.

Ich gehe, will im Hause noch um mein Geschick

Und Agamemnons jammern. Sei's genug gelebt!

Weh, Freunde, weh!

Nicht, wie der Vogel um's Gebüsch, wehklag' ich bang

1265

Mit eitlem Rufe. Zeuget mir's, der Todten, einst,

Wenn mir, dem Weib, zur Nache todt hinsinkt das Weib,

Und für des schnöden Weibes Mann der Mann erliegt.

Mit diesem Gastgruß tret' ich ein als Sterbende.

Der Chorführer.

Dein Loos, enthüllt vom Gotte, wie beklag' ich es!

1270

Kassandra.

Ein einzig Wort noch fei're, nicht im Klageton,

Mein Todesschicksal! Helios, dich fleh' ich an

Bei'm lekten Lichtstrahl, meine Nächer ruf' ich auf:

Gebt meinen Mördern gleichen Tod, wie mich, die Magd,

Ihr Arm gemordet, leichterrungnen Sieges froh!

1275

Ach, Menschenleben! Lächelt ihm des Glückes Strahl,

So mag's ein Schatte stürzen; grollt das Ungemach,

Löscht eines Schwammes feuchter Hauch das düstre Bild.

Weit mehr beklag' ich solches Loos, als mein Geschick.

(Ab in den Palast.)

Der Chorführer.