A poem by Aeschylus (c. 525 – c. 456 Before Christ )
CASSANDRA
Phoebus Apollo!
CHORUS
Hark!
The lips at last unlocking.
CASSANDRA
Phoebus! Phoebus!
CHORUS
Well, what of Phoebus, maiden? though a name
‘Tis but disparagement to call upon
In misery.
CASSANDRA
Apollo! Apollo! Again!
Oh, the burning arrow through the brain!
Phoebus Apollo! Apollo!
CHORUS
Seemingly
Possessed indeed–whether by–
CASSANDRA
Phoebus! Phoebus!
Through trampled ashes, blood, and fiery rain,
Over water seething, and behind the breathing
War-horse in the darkness–till you rose again,
Took the helm–took the rein–
CHORUS
As one that half asleep at dawn recalls
A night of Horror!
CASSANDRA
Hither, whither, Phoebus? And with whom,
Leading me, lighting me–
CHORUS
I can answer that–
CASSANDRA
Down to what slaughter-house!
Foh! the smell of carnage through the door
Scares me from it–drags me toward it–
Phoebus Apollo! Apollo!
CHORUS
One of the dismal prophet-pack, it seems,
That hunt the trail of blood. But here at fault–
This is no den of slaughter, but the house
Of Agamemnon.
CASSANDRA
Down upon the towers,
Phantoms of two mangled children hover–and a famished man,
At an empty table glaring, seizes and devours!
CHORUS
Thyestes and his children! Strange enough
For any maiden from abroad to know,
Or, knowing–
CASSANDRA
And look! in the chamber below
The terrible Woman, listening, watching,
Under a mask, preparing the blow
In the fold of her robe–
CHORUS
Nay, but again at fault:
For in the tragic story of this House–
Unless, indeed the fatal Helen–No
woman–
CASSANDRA
No Woman–Tisiphone! Daughter
Of Tartarus–love-grinning Woman above,
Dragon-tailed under–honey-tongued, Harpy-clawed,
Into the glittering meshes of slaughter
She wheedles, entices him into the poisonous
Fold of the serpent–
CHORUS
Peace, mad woman, peace!
Whose stony lips once open vomit out
Such uncouth horrors.
CASSANDRA
I tell you the lioness
Slaughters the Lion asleep; and lifting
Her blood-dripping fangs buried deep in his mane,
Glaring about her insatiable, bellowing,
Bounds hither–Phoebus Apollo, Apollo, Apollo!
Whither have you led me, under night alive with fire,
Through the trampled ashes of the city of my sire,
From my slaughtered kinsmen, fallen throne, insulted shrine,
Slave-like to be butchered, the daughter of a royal line!
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External links
Bat’s Poetry Page – more poetry by Fledermaus
Talking Writing Monster’s Page –
Batty Writing – the bat’s idle chatter, thoughts, ideas and observations, all original, all fresh
Poems in English
- The Messiah : A Sacred Eclogue poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Looking-Glass. : on Mrs. Pulteney poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Iliad: Book VI (excerpt) poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Fable of Dryope – Ovid’s Metamorphoses Book 9, [v. 324-393] poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Dying Christian to His Soul poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Dunciad: Book IV poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Dunciad: Book III. poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Dunciad: Book II. poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Dunciad: Book I. poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Challenge: A Court Ballad poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- The Basset-Table : An Eclogue poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Summer poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Summer – The Second Pastoral; or Alexis poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Summer – The Second Pastoral; or Alexis poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Spring – The First Pastoral ; or Damon poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Sound And Sense poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Song, by a Person of Quality poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Solitude: An Ode poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Solitude poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
- Sappho to Phaon (Ovid Heroid XV) poem – Alexander Pope poems | Poetry Monster
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Aeschylus (525 Before Christ to 456 B.C.) was an ancient Greek author of Greek tragedy, and is often described as the father of tragedy. Academics’ knowledge of the genre begins with his work, and understanding of earlier Greek tragedy is largely based on inferences made from reading his surviving plays. According to Aristotle, he expanded the number of characters in the theatre and allowed conflict among them.