_Cass._ Ah me! O horror! What ill schemes she now? What is this new great woe? 1070 Great evil plots she in this very house, Hard for its friends to bear, immedicable; And help stands far aloof. _Chor._ These oracles of thine surpass my ken; Those I know well. The whole town rings with them.[356] ANTISTROPHE IV _Cass._ Ah me! O daring one! what work'st thou here, Who having in his bath Tended thy spouse, thy lord, then ... How tell the rest? For quick it comes, and hand is following hand, Stretched out to strike the blow. 1080 _Chor._ Still I discern not; after words so dark I am perplexed with thy dim oracles. STROPHE V _Cass._ Ah, horror, horror! What is this I see? Is it a snare of Hell? Nay, the true net is she who shares his bed, Who shares in working death. Ha! let the Band insatiable in hate[357] Howl for the race its wild exulting cry O'er sacrifice that calls For death by storm of stones. STROPHE VI _Chor._ What dire Erinnys bidd'st thou o'er our house To raise shrill cry? Thy speech but little cheers; And to my heart there rush Blood-drops of saffron hue,[358] 1090 *Which, when from deadly wound They fall, together with life's setting rays End, as it fails, their own appointed course: And mischief comes apace. ANTISTROPHE V _Cass._ See, see, I say, from that fell heifer there Keep thou the bull:[359] in robes Entangling him, she with her weapon gores Him with the swarthy horns;[360] Lo! in that bath with water filled he falls, Smitten to death, and I to thee set forth Crime of a bath of blood, By murderous guile devised. ANTISTROPHE VI _Chor._ I may not boast that I keen insight have In words oracular; yet bode I ill. 1100 What tidings good are brought By any oracles To mortal men? These arts, In days of evil sore, with many words, Do still but bring a vague, portentous fear For men to learn and know. STROPHE VII _Cass._ Woe, woe! for all sore ills that fall on me! It is my grief thou speak'st of, blending it With his.[361] [_Pausing, and then crying out_.] Ah! wherefore then Hast thou[362] thus brought me here, Only to die with thee? What other doom is mine? STROPHE VIII