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THE TROADES.
Cassandra, Helen, and Andromache
Sate all together by a burning sea;
A chilly thundercloud hung over them;
They were to sail into captivity.
Each knew that each must taste of slavery,
Though one was still to wear a diadem.
Sate all together by a burning sea;
A chilly thundercloud hung over them;
They were to sail into captivity.
Each knew that each must taste of slavery,
Though one was still to wear a diadem.
Andromache spake calmly in her scorn,
“I wonder to what purpose I was born,
For now I have no holy work to do,
But only to be Pyrrhus' paramour,
And bear his child, who slew the child I bore,
Yet I have lived in honour hitherto:
“I wonder to what purpose I was born,
For now I have no holy work to do,
But only to be Pyrrhus' paramour,
And bear his child, who slew the child I bore,
Yet I have lived in honour hitherto:
“Therefore I will be desolately free
From the dear yoke of Hector's memory,
To strive for what low prize is yet to win;
Because I think that heaven hath no delight
That mortal men and women cherish right,
Seeing that God hath shut me up to sin.”
And as she spake, the cloud grew overhead,
Changing his purple to an angrier red,
And hungry crests of waves came curling in.
From the dear yoke of Hector's memory,
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Because I think that heaven hath no delight
That mortal men and women cherish right,
Seeing that God hath shut me up to sin.”
And as she spake, the cloud grew overhead,
Changing his purple to an angrier red,
And hungry crests of waves came curling in.
Then Helen, full of shame and kindly fear,
Sobbed out, “O father Zeus, I pray thee hear,
Though thou hast made me only fair, not strong,
Nor holy, as these other women were
Who have a harder lot than I to bear,
Who am the foster-mother of their wrong.”
Sobbed out, “O father Zeus, I pray thee hear,
Though thou hast made me only fair, not strong,
Nor holy, as these other women were
Who have a harder lot than I to bear,
Who am the foster-mother of their wrong.”
Then, as the utter blackness left the sky,
She lifted up her carolling voice on high,
And said, “Let us make merry while we may,
We know not good or evil, false or true,
But know that earth is green, and heaven is blue,
And in our hair there is more gold than grey.
She lifted up her carolling voice on high,
And said, “Let us make merry while we may,
We know not good or evil, false or true,
But know that earth is green, and heaven is blue,
And in our hair there is more gold than grey.
“I wish I might have only loved one love,
But it was ordered otherwise above,
And after all there is not much to say.
I like to stroke my husband's yellow hair,
Though Dardan Paris was more princely fair;
But starry night comes after cloudy day.”
But it was ordered otherwise above,
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I like to stroke my husband's yellow hair,
Though Dardan Paris was more princely fair;
But starry night comes after cloudy day.”
Now all this while Cassandra nothing said,
But on thin quivering hands she propped her head,
Bowing, but not as those who bow in woe,
Looking beneath her eyebrows eagerly
At some fair thing which others could not see,
And when she spake her words were hoarse and low,
But on thin quivering hands she propped her head,
Bowing, but not as those who bow in woe,
Looking beneath her eyebrows eagerly
At some fair thing which others could not see,
And when she spake her words were hoarse and low,
In a sweet kind of husky undertone,
As of one speaking to herself alone,
After long weary crying to deaf ears.
And thus she spake, “I owe great laud to thee
For drawing nigh at last to visit me,
After my widowhood of many years.
As of one speaking to herself alone,
After long weary crying to deaf ears.
And thus she spake, “I owe great laud to thee
For drawing nigh at last to visit me,
After my widowhood of many years.
“This was my comfort, when with wanton hands
Slight Aias wrenched away my temple bands,
Seeking to see what thou hadst never seen,
Because I knew that Death was nigh to me
And unto him, and also that to thee
I come the dearer that I come not clean.
Slight Aias wrenched away my temple bands,
Seeking to see what thou hadst never seen,
Because I knew that Death was nigh to me
And unto him, and also that to thee
I come the dearer that I come not clean.
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“Being defiled, I have the greater need
Of thee, by whom I shall be cleansed and freed.
In love the mighty gods have made us weak,
That we may lean upon them as we go
Into the dark with faltering steps and slow,
Where soft-veiled shadows play at hide and seek,
And silent ministering rivers flow
Above the happy orchard grounds, where grow
The holy fruits that ripen for the meek.
Of thee, by whom I shall be cleansed and freed.
In love the mighty gods have made us weak,
That we may lean upon them as we go
Into the dark with faltering steps and slow,
Where soft-veiled shadows play at hide and seek,
And silent ministering rivers flow
Above the happy orchard grounds, where grow
The holy fruits that ripen for the meek.
“The time has gone by now to mock at me,
So I shall voyage at ease across the sea,
And watch the ripples dance, not fearing thrall,
Measuring the sunny journey with glad eye
To that clear palace where I have to die,
Not blindly, as a fatted ox at stall.
So I shall voyage at ease across the sea,
And watch the ripples dance, not fearing thrall,
Measuring the sunny journey with glad eye
To that clear palace where I have to die,
Not blindly, as a fatted ox at stall.
“Andromache shall see a second spring,
And be the wife and mother of a king.
Helen shall cherish her Hermione,
And see her gracious golden husband fade,
And fade herself into a pearly shade;
And surely both of them will pity me.
Let them, for pity lightens heavy care;
They fancy death is something hard to bear,
But we know better, O Polyxene!
And be the wife and mother of a king.
Helen shall cherish her Hermione,
And see her gracious golden husband fade,
And fade herself into a pearly shade;
And surely both of them will pity me.
Let them, for pity lightens heavy care;
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But we know better, O Polyxene!
“Wherefore I will not show thy gifts again
By erring speech to misconceiving men
Until the end, and O Apollo! then!”
By erring speech to misconceiving men
Until the end, and O Apollo! then!”
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