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Aeschylus, agamemnon<br />
CHORUS chanting<br />
What pangs are these, what fruitless pain,<br />
Sent on thee from on high?<br />
Thou chantest terror's frantic strain,<br />
Yet in shrill measured melody.<br />
How thus unerring canst thou sweep along<br />
The prophet's path of boding song?<br />
CASSANDRA chanting<br />
Woe, Paris, woe on thee! thy bridal joy<br />
Was death and fire upon thy race and Troy!<br />
And woe for thee, Scamander's flood!<br />
Beside thy banks, O river fair,<br />
I grew in tender nursing care<br />
From childhood unto maidenhood!<br />
Now not by thine, but by Cocytus' stream<br />
And Acheron's banks shall ring my boding scream.<br />
CHORUS chanting<br />
Too plain is all, too plain!<br />
A child might read aright thy fateful strain.<br />
Deep in my heart their piercing fang<br />
Terror and sorrow set, the while I heard<br />
That piteous, low, tender word,<br />
Yet to mine ear and heart a crushing pang.<br />
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