60
AGAMEMNON.
Chorus.
Yet who delays the longest, his the gain.
Cassandra.
The day is come—flight were small gain to me!
Chorus.
O brave endurance of a soul resolved!
Cassandra.
That were ill praise, for those of happier doom.
Chorus.
All fame is happy, even famous death.
Cassandra.
Ah sire, ah brethren, famous once were ye!
[She moves to enter the house, then starts back.
Chorus.
What fear is this that scares thee from the house?
Cassandra.
Pah!
Chorus.
What is this cry? some dark despair of soul?
Cassandra.
Pah! the house fumes with stench and spilth of blood.
Chorus.
How? 'tis the smell of household offerings.
Cassandra.
'Tis rank as charnel-scent from open graves.
