But blood that once hath flowed
In purple stains of death upon the ground
At a man's feet, who then can bid it back
By any charm of song?
Else him who knew to call the dead to life[348]
*Zeus had not sternly checked, 990
*As warning unto all;
But unless Fate, firm-fixed, had barred our fate
From any chance of succour from the Gods,
Then had my heart poured forth
Its thoughts, outstripping speech.[349]
But now in gloom it wails
Sore vexed, with little hope
At any time hereafter fitting end 1000
To find, unravelling,
My soul within me burning with hot thoughts.
_Re-enter_ CLYTÆMNESTRA
_Clytæm._ [_to_ CASSANDRA, _who has remained in the
chariot during the choral ode_]
Thou too—I mean Cassandra—go within;
Since Zeus hath made it thine, and not in wrath,
To share the lustral waters in our house,
Standing with many a slave the altar nigh
Of Zeus, who guards our goods.[350] Now get thee down
From out this car, nor look so over proud.
They say that e'en Alcmena's son endured[351]
Being sold a slave, constrained to bear the yoke:
And if the doom of this ill chance should come,
Great boon it is to meet with lords who own
Ancestral wealth. But whoso reap full crops 1010
They never dared to hope for, these in all,
And beyond measure, to their slaves are harsh:[352]
From us thou hast what usage doth prescribe.
_Chor._ So ends she, speaking words full clear to thee:
And seeing thou art in the toils of fate,
If thou obey, thou wilt obey; and yet,
Perchance, obey thou wilt not.
_Clytæm._ Nay, but unless she, like a swallow, speaks
A barbarous tongue unknown, I speaking now
Within her apprehension, bid obey. 1020
_Chor._ [_to_ CASSANDRA, _still standing motionless_] Go with her. What
she bids is now the best;
Obey her: leave thy seat upon this car.
_Clytæm._ I have no leisure here to stay without:
For as regards our central altar, there
The sheep stand by as victims for the fire;
For never had we hoped such thanks to give:
If thou wilt do this, make no more delay;
But if thou understandest not my words,
Then wave thy foreign hand in lieu of speech.
[CASSANDRA _shudders as in horror, but
makes no sign_
_Chor._ The stranger seems a clear interpreter
To need. Her look is like a captured deer's. 1030
_Clytæm._ Nay, she is mad, and follows evil thoughts,
Since, leaving now her city, newly-captured,
She comes, and knows not how to take the curb,
Ere she foam out her passion in her blood.
I will not bear the shame of uttering more. [_Exit_
_Chor._ And I—I pity her, and will not rage:
Come, thou poor sufferer, empty leave thy car;
Yield to thy doom, and handsel now the yoke.
[CASSANDRA _leaves the chariot, and bursts
into a cry of wailing_