Apollon, Apollon,Guard of the ways, my destroyer!Ha, whither hast thou led me? to what roof now?CHOROS.To the Atreidai’s roof: if this thou know’st not,I tell it thee, nor this wilt thou call falsehood. KASSANDRA.How! How!God-hated, then! Of many a crime it knew —Self-slaying evils, halters too:Man’s-shambles, blood-besprinkler of the ground!CHOROS.She seems to be good-nosed, the stranger: dog-like,She snuffs indeed the victims she will find there. KASSANDRA.How! How!By the witnesses here I am certain now!These children bewailing their slaughters — flesh dressed in the fireAnd devoured by their sire!CHOROS.Ay, we have heard of thy soothsaying glory,