University of Virginia Library

SCENE III.

Cassandra, Trojan Captives, Melisander.
Melisander.
Daughters of Ilium! By the King's Command,
I come to ask your Presence at the Banquet.
Till then allow me to partake your Woes:
I have a Reverence for them. I my self,
Thanks to the gracious Gods! have known misfortune;
I am with Grief acquainted, therefore can
For others feel. Sweet Source of every Virtue,
O sacred Sorrow! He who knows not Thee,
Knows not the best Emotions of the Heart,
Those tender Tears that humanize the Soul,
The Sigh that Charms, the Pang that gives Delight;
He lives next door to Cruelty and Pride,
And is a Novice in the School of Virtue.

Cassandra.
We thank thee, Stranger, for thy generous Pity.
Heaven has, it seems, throughout diffus'd the Good.
May the kind Gods, the Hospitable Powers,
For this befriend thee! Thou must wander still,
Wilt their Protection want.—But Agamemnon,
Where is the King?

Melisander.
He bathes him for the Banquet,
The Banquet earn'd by ten Years War and Toil.

Cassandra.

Melisander.
Mysterious Powers!

Casandra.
'Tis gone—And now harsh Discord takes its place:
Dire Yellings now affright my trembling Ear.
What means this Uproar of the howling Forrest?
The Lioness and Wolf, together leagu'd,
Pursue the Lion's Life.—Behold! the Snare,
Th'infernal Snare is set, spread by the Stream,
Where, unsuspecting Harm, he bathes at Noon.
Soon will these guiltless Waters blush with Blood.

Melisander.
There is a sort of gloomy Light in This,
That flashes Horror on me.

Cassandra.
A black Swarm
Of fell Ideas seize my Fancy.—Hence!
O snatch me from this Palace! Shambles rather!
It smells of Carnage; breathes an hideous Steam,
As if from gaping Sepulchers exhal'd.
And, lo! the spotless Loves, the Sports, the Joys,
The weeping Lares fly: while, in their place,
The Vices all, the raging Furies come;
And with them Comus, the flush'd God of Banquets,
Besmear'd with Gore—They sing the funeral Hymn—
What do I see? what mean these mangled Forms?
These pale, these nightly Phantoms; Such as rise,
To working Fancy's Eye, in troubled Dreams?—
See! where they sit for ever at the Gates,
Demanding Vengeance—Vengeance is at hand—
Ha! 'tis the murder'd Boys, whose Limbs were, here,
Serv'd up to their own Sire, to be devour'd!—

Melisander.
She wakes my Dread—The Story of Thyestes!—

Cassandra.
With this devoted Race involv'd, I fall:
Nor falls the Slave, alone—the Master falls.
But Man shall die for Man, for Woman Woman:
Remember This.

Melisander.
The Slave the Master fall!

Cassandra.
Ah Bosom-Traitress! Ill-persuaded Queen!
And canst thou then the barbarous Secret keep?—

Melisander.
What Queen? what Secret? Speak more plain Cassandra!

Cassandra.
From Guilt, in vain, to greater Guilt you fly,
From Crime to Crime precipitated—No!
The wicked find no Peace—Distraction waits Thee!—
One Effort more—Yes, save thy Lord, and die—
That Throw belong'd to Virtue—Cannot then
The gentle Powers prevail?—A Moment yet,
The doubtful Ballance yet allows a Moment—
Down, down it goes, for Vengeance and for Troy!
But ah! such Vengeance, as even Foes themselves
Abhor to see!

Melisander.
She staggers all my Reason.
Unveil these dreadful Oracles—Perhaps—

Cassandra.
Yes, in a moment, they will be too plain.
The Moment comes! The Furies lash it on!
Ha! Now!

Melisander.
Unusual Horror creeps—

Cassandra.
Alas!
Keep from the murderous Sacrificer's Hand,
O keep the Victim Bull! Lo! seiz'd, he spurns,
He foams in vain—Behold the lifted Blow!
Behold the thirsty Steel!—They strike him!—Hark!
What Dismal Echoes run from Room to Room!

Melisander.
I heard a distant Noise!—

[The Noise of Agamemnon's Assassination heard indistinctly, and at distance, behind the Scenes.
Cassandra.
Again!—They strive,
Th'Assassins labour who shall wound him most.
'Tis done!—He falls—

Agamemnon
, behind the Scenes.
[The Noise heard distinctly, and near.
Off! Villains! Cowards! off!—
By Villains murder'd!—Oh!—

Melisander.
Great Gods! the King!—