In days like these a free neck chafes beneath
Its burden!... Open! Open quick! Such death
Were bliss to them, it may be: but 'twill bring
Much wrath, and leave me shamed before the King!

HECUBA.

There is no fire, no peril: 'tis my child,
Cassandra, by the breath of God made wild.

[_The door opens from within and_ CASSANDRA
_enters, white-robed and wreathed like a
Priestess, a great torch in her hand. She
is singing softly to herself and does not see
the Herald or the scene before her._

CASSANDRA.

Lift, lift it high: [_Strophe_.
Give it to mine hand!
Lo, I bear a flame
Unto God! I praise his name.
I light with a burning brand
This sanctuary.
Blessèd is he that shall wed,
And blessèd, blessèd am I
In Argos: a bride to lie
With a king in a king's bed.

Hail, O Hymen[19] red,