Cassandra
O the sufferings, the sufferings of my city utterly destroyed! Alas, the sacrifices my father offered, the many pasturing cattle slain to save its towers! [1170] Yet they provided no remedy to save the city from suffering even as it has; and I, my soul on fire, must soon fall to the ground. Chorus
Your present speech chimes with your former strain. [1175] Surely some malignant spirit, falling upon you with heavy swoop, moves you to chant your piteous woes fraught with death. But the end I am helpless to discover.
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