[Strophe. Lift, lift it high: Give it to mine hand! Lo, I bear a flame Unto God! I praise his name. I light with a burning brand This sanctuary. Blessed is he that shall wed, And blessed, blessed am I In Argos: a bride to lie With a king in a king's bed. Hail, O Hymen red, O Torch that makest one! Weepest thou, Mother mine own? Surely thy cheek is pale With tears, tears that wail For a land and a father dead. But I go garlanded: I am the Bride of Desire: Therefore my torch is borne-- Lo, the lifting of morn, Lo, the leaping of fire!-- For thee, O Hymen bright, For thee, O Moon of the Deep, So Law hath charged, for the light Of a maid's last sleep. [Antistrophe. Awake, O my feet, awake: Our father's hope is won! Dance as the dancing skies Over him, where he lies Happy beneath the sun! . . . Lo, the Ring that I make . . . [She makes a circle round her with the torch, and visions appear to her. Apollo! . . . Ah, is it thou? O shrine in the laurels cold, I bear thee still, as of old, Mine incense! Be near to me now. [She waves the torch as though bearing incense. O Hymen, Hymen fleet: Quick torch that makest one! . . . How? Am I still alone? Laugh as I laugh, and twine In the dance, O Mother mine: Dear feet, be near my feet! Come, greet ye Hymen, greet Hymen with songs of pride: Sing to him loud and long, Cry, cry, when the song Faileth, for joy of the bride! O Damsels girt in the gold Of Ilion, cry, cry ye, For him that is doomed of old To be lord of me!

Cassandra Monologue from The Trojan Women

Rehearse Cassandra's monologue