HKB
land and a father dead. But I go garlanded: I am the Bride of Desire: Therefore my torch is borne-- Lo, the lifting of morn, Lo, the leaping of fire!--
For thee, O Hymen bright, For thee, O Moon of the Deep, So Law hath charged, for the light Of a maid's last sleep.
Awake, O my feet, awake: [Antistrophe. Our father's hope is won! Dance as the dancing skies Over him, where he lies Happy beneath the sun!... Lo, the Ring that I make....
[She makes a circle round her with a torch, and visions appear to her.
Apollo!... Ah, is it thou? O shrine in the laurels cold, I bear thee still, as of old, Mine incense! Be near to me now.
[She waves the torch as though bearing incense.
O Hymen, Hymen fleet: Quick torch that makest one!... How? Am I still alone? Laugh as I laugh, and twine In the dance, O Mother mine: Dear feet, be near my feet!
Come, greet ye Hymen, greet Hymen with songs of pride: Sing to him loud and long, Cry, cry, when the song Faileth, for joy of the bride!
O Damsels girt in the gold Of Ilion, cry, cry ye, For him that is doomed of old To be lord of me!
LEADER.
O hold the damsel, lest her trancèd feet Lift her afar, Queen, toward the Hellene fleet!
HECUBA.
O Fire, Fire, where men make marriages Surely thou hast thy lot; but what are these Thou bringest flashing? Torches savage-wild And far from mine old dreams.--Alas, my child, How little dreamed I then of wars or red Spears of the Greek to lay thy bridal bed! Give me thy brand; it hath no holy blaze Thus in thy frenzy flung. Nor all thy days Nor all thy griefs have changed them yet, nor learned Wisdom.--Ye women, bear the pine half burned To the chamber back; and let your drownèd eyes Answer the music of these bridal cries!
[She takes the torch and gives it to one of the women.
CASSANDRA.
O Mother, fill mine hair with happy flowers, And speed me forth. Yea, if my spirit cowers, Drive me with wrath! So liveth Loxias[20], A bloodier bride than ever Helen was Go I to Agamemnon, Lord most high Of Hellas!... I shall kill him, mother; I Shall kill him, and lay waste his house with fire As he laid ours. My brethren and my sire Shall win again....[21]
(Checking herself) But part I must let be, And speak not. Not the axe that craveth me, And more than me; not the dark wanderings Of mother-murder that my bridal brings, And all the House of Atreus down, down, down....
Nay, I will show thee. Even now this town Is happier than the Greeks. I know the power Of God is on me: but this little hour, Wilt thou but listen, I will hold him back!
One love, one woman's beauty, o'er the track Of hunted Helen, made their myriads fall. And this their King so wise[22], who ruleth all, What wrought he? Cast out Love that Hate might feed: Gave to his brother his own child, his seed Of gladness, that a woman fled, and fain To fly for ever, should be turned again!
So the days waned, and armies on the shore Of Simois stood and strove and died. Wherefore? No man had moved their landmarks; none had shook Their wallèd towns.--And they whom Ares took, Had never seen their children: no wife came With gentle arms to shroud the limbs of them For burial, in a strange and angry earth Laid dead. And there at home, the same long dearth: Women that lonely died, and aged men Waiting for sons that ne'er should turn again, Nor know their graves, nor pour drink-offerings, To still the unslakèd dust. These be the things The conquering Greek hath won!