Pleased with his prey, he glides along—     More blithe the murmured music seems, A gush from unexhausted urns His everlasting streams! 

           CASSANDRA. Mirth the halls of Troy was filling, Ere its lofty ramparts fell; From the golden lute so thrilling Hymns of joy were heard to swell. From the sad and tearful slaughter All had laid their arms aside, For Pelides Priam's daughter Claimed then as his own fair bride. Laurel branches with them bearing, Troop on troop in bright array To the temples were repairing, Owning Thymbrius' sovereign sway. Through the streets, with frantic measure,     Danced the bacchanal mad round, And, amid the radiant pleasure, Only one sad breast was found. Joyless in the midst of gladness, None to heed her, none to love, Roamed Cassandra, plunged in sadness, To Apollo's laurel grove. To its dark and deep recesses Swift the sorrowing priestess hied, And from off her flowing tresses Tore the sacred band, and cried:     "All around with joy is beaming, Ev'ry heart is happy now, And my sire is fondly dreaming, Wreathed with flowers my sister's brow I alone am doomed to wailing, That sweet vision flies from me; In my mind, these walls assailing, Fierce destruction I can see."     "Though a torch I see all-glowing, Yet 'tis not in Hymen's hand; Smoke across the skies is blowing, Yet 'tis from no votive brand. Yonder see I feasts entrancing, But in my prophetic soul, Hear I now the God advancing, Who will steep in tears the bowl!"     "And they blame my lamentation, And they laugh my grief to scorn; To the haunts of desolation I must bear my woes forlorn. All who happy are, now shun me, And my tears with laughter see; Heavy lies thy hand upon me, Cruel Pythian deity!"     "Thy divine decrees foretelling, Wherefore hast thou thrown me here, Where the ever-blind are dwelling, With a mind, alas, too clear? Wherefore hast thou power thus given, What must needs occur to know? Wrought must be the will of Heaven—     Onward come the hour of woe!"     "When impending fate strikes terror, Why remove the covering? Life we have alone in error, Knowledge with it death must bring. Take away this prescience tearful, Take this sight of woe from me; Of thy truths, alas! how fearful     'Tis the mouthpiece frail to be!"     "Veil my mind once more in slumbers Let me heedlessly rejoice; Never have I sung glad numbers Since I've been thy chosen voice. Knowledge of the future giving, Thou hast stolen the present day, Stolen the moment's joyous living,—     Take thy false 

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