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96
AGAMEMNON.
But for myself remains a sundering
With spear, the two-edged thing!
CHOROS.
Whence hast thou this on-rushing god-involving pain
And spasms in vain?
For, things that terrify,
With changing unintelligible cry
Thou strikest up in tune, yet all the while
After that Orthian style!
Whence hast thou limits to the oracular road,
That evils bode?
KASSANDRA.
Ah me, the nuptials, the nuptials of Paris, the deadly to friends!
