While she for children and for husband moaned-- These slain, he of the sun's light portionless-- The Trojans to the Immortals sacrificed, Pouring the wine. Their hearts beat high with hope To escape the weary stress of woeful war. Howbeit the victims burned not, and the flames Died out, as though 'neath heavy-hissing rain; And writhed the smoke-wreaths blood-red, and the thighs Quivering from crumbling altars fell to earth. Drink-offerings turned to blood, Gods' statues wept, And temple-walls dripped gore: along them rolled Echoes of groaning out of depths unseen; And all the long walls shuddered: from the towers Came quick sharp sounds like cries of men in pain; And, weirdly shrieking, of themselves slid back The gate-bolts. Screaming "Desolation!" wailed The birds of night. Above that God-built burg A mist palled every star; and yet no cloud Was in the flashing heavens. By Phoebus' fane Withered the bays that erst were lush and green. Wolves and foul-feeding jackals came and howled Within the gates. Ay, other signs untold Appeared, portending woe to Dardanus' sons And Troy: yet no fear touched the Trojans' hearts Who saw all through the town those portents dire: Fate crazed them all, that midst their revelling Slain by their foes they might fill up their doom. One heart was steadfast, and one soul clear-eyed, Cassandra. Never her words were unfulfilled; Yet was their utter truth, by Fate's decree, Ever as idle wind in the hearers' ears, That no bar to Troy's ruin might be set. She saw those evil portents all through Troy Conspiring to one end; loud rang her cry, As roars a lioness that mid the brakes A hunter has stabbed or shot, whereat her heart Maddens, and down the long hills rolls her roar, And her might waxes tenfold; so with heart Aflame with prophecy came she forth her bower. Over her snowy shoulders tossed her hair Streaming far down, and wildly blazed her eyes. Her neck writhed, like a sapling in the wind Shaken, as moaned and shrieked that noble maid: "O wretches! into the Land of Darkness now We are passing; for all round us full of fire And blood and dismal moan the city is. Everywhere portents of calamity Gods show: destruction yawns before your feet. Fools! ye know not your doom: still ye rejoice With one consent in madness, who to Troy Have brought the Argive Horse where ruin lurks! Oh, ye believe not me, though ne'er so loud I cry! The Erinyes and the ruthless Fates, For Helen's spousals madly wroth, through Troy Dart on wild wings. And ye, ye are banqueting there In your last feast, on meats befouled with gore, When now your feet are on the Path of Ghosts!"