Sonnets By Emily Pfeiffer: Revised and Enlarged Ed. |
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KASSANDRA.
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 | Sonnets |  |
KASSANDRA.
I.
VIRGIN of Troy, the days were well with thee
When wandering singing by the singing streams
Of Ilion, thou beheldest the golden gleams
Of the bold sun that might not facèd be
Come murmuring to thy feet caressingly;
But best that day when, steeped in noontide dreams,
The young Apollo wrapped thee in his beams,
And quenched his love in thine as in a sea!
When wandering singing by the singing streams
Of Ilion, thou beheldest the golden gleams
Of the bold sun that might not facèd be
Come murmuring to thy feet caressingly;
But best that day when, steeped in noontide dreams,
The young Apollo wrapped thee in his beams,
And quenched his love in thine as in a sea!
And later, in thy tower 'twas sweet to teach
The loveless night the joys high day had known;
To dream, to wake—and find thy love impeach
Late sleep with kisses, and thy spirit flown
To his, and at the ivory gates of speech
Breaking in words as burning as his own.
The loveless night the joys high day had known;
To dream, to wake—and find thy love impeach
Late sleep with kisses, and thy spirit flown
To his, and at the ivory gates of speech
Breaking in words as burning as his own.
68
II.
How far from Ilion, and how far from joy,
Captive Kassandra, wert thou, when in sight
Of conquering Greece thou satest on thy height
Of shame—a waif from out the wreck of Troy!
Thine still the burning word, but slave's employ
Had from thy trembling lip effacèd quite
The kisses of the god, and heaven's light
Now shone upon thee only to destroy.
Captive Kassandra, wert thou, when in sight
Of conquering Greece thou satest on thy height
Of shame—a waif from out the wreck of Troy!
Thine still the burning word, but slave's employ
Had from thy trembling lip effacèd quite
The kisses of the god, and heaven's light
Now shone upon thee only to destroy.
For thee, sun-stricken one, th' abysmal sties
Of sin lay open as the secret grave—
Things of which speech seemed madness—while thy cries
On wronged Apollo lost the way to save;
Till at the last, the faith of upturned eyes
Brought him to right, as death to free the slave.
Of sin lay open as the secret grave—
Things of which speech seemed madness—while thy cries
On wronged Apollo lost the way to save;
Till at the last, the faith of upturned eyes
Brought him to right, as death to free the slave.
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