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, 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. Awake, O my feet, awake: [ Antistrophe. 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 a 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 of Euripides

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