To melodize thy sorrows — else, in singing, Calamitous, death-bringing! And of all this the end I am without resource to apprehend KASSANDRA. Well then, the oracle from veils no longer Shall be outlooking, like a bride new-married: But bright it seems, against the sun’s uprisings Breathing, to penetrate thee: so as, wave-like, To wash against the rays a woe much greater Than this. I will no longer teach by riddles. And witness, running with me, that of evils Done long ago, I nosing track the footstep! For, this same roof here — never quits a Choros One-voiced, not well-tuned since no well it utters: And truly having drunk, to get more courage, Man’s blood — the Komos keeps within the household — Hard to be sent outside — of sister Furies: They hymn their hymn — within the house close sitting — The first beginning curse: in turn spit forth at The Brother’s bed, to him who spurned it hostile. Have I missed aught, or hit I like a bowman? False prophet am I, — knock at doors, a babbler? Henceforward witness, swearing now, I know not By other’s word the old sins of this household! CHOROS. And how should oath, bond honourably binding, Become thy cure? No less I wonder at thee — That thou, beyond sea reared, a strange-tongued city Shouldst hit in speaking, just as if thou stood’st by!
 KASSANDRA. Prophet Apollon put me in this office. CHOROS. What, even though a god, with longing smitten?