Threads of guilt and anger

 

‘Cassandra is most at risk, not when the wrath of the Trojans threatens her life, but when all the threads that link her with them, including the threads of anger, have snapped and a new net has not yet been knotted by her own guilt.'

Wolf, Christa, 1984.  Conditions of a narrative. in Wolf, Christa, 1984. Cassandra: a novel and four essays.  Translated from the German by Jan van Heurck. London: Virago

Cassandra's trap

‘… in recent times, I started to note a flow, small but increasing, of comments that carry the opposite criticism: "scientists," they say, "have been poor at explaining how things really stand with climate. They didn't do enough to inform us on how serious the situation is". This is something that we could call "Cassandra's trap," the fear of alarming people, of telling of disasters that won't come, in short of looking like an alarmist.’

Ugo Bardi

Cassandra's Legacy

Theatre of Tragedy

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cassandra

[Words by Raymond, Music by Theatre of Tragedy, 1998]

He gave to her, yet tenfold claimed in return -
She hath no life but the one he for her wrought;
Proffered to her his walking heart - she turned it down,
Reposted with a tell-tale lore of lies and scorn.

Prophetess or fond?,
Though her parle of truth:
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.

Still, is she lief and quaint in his eye, a sight divine? -
A mistress fueled by his prest haughtiness -
If he did grant, wherefore then did he not foresee,
Belike egal as it to him might be?!

Prophetess or fond?,
Though her parle of truth:
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.

'Or was he an eried being,
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
Her naysay' rought his heart,
Her daffing was the grave of all hope -
She belied her own words,
He thought her life, save moreo'er scourge,
She held him august, yet wee;
He left her ne'er without his heart.

Though her parle of truth:
"I can tomorrow - refell me if ye can!",
Yet the kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
Sëer of the future, not of twain,
"Sicker!", quoth Cassandra.

'Or was he an eried being,
'Or was he weening - alack nay mo;
Her naysay' rought his heart,
Her daffing was the grave of all hope –

The crystal ball

'Why, unhappy, do I call to the unheeding rocks, to the deaf wave, and to the awful glades, twanging the idle noise of my lips? For Lepsieus has taken credit from me, daubing with rumour of falsity my words and the true prophetic wisdom of my oracles, for that he was robbed of the bridal which he sought to win. Yet will he make my oracles true. And in sorrow shall many a one know it, when there is no means any more to help my fatherland and shall praise the frenzied swallow.'

Lycophron, Alexandra
translated by A.W.Mair

 LYCOPHRON of Chalcis was a Greek poet and scholar of the Library of Alexandria who flourished in the C3rd BC. His cryptic poem, the Alexandra, tells the stories of the heroes of the Trojan War in the riddling, prophetic words of the Trojan princess Cassandra.


Callimachus, Hymns and Epigrams. Lycophron. Aratus. Translated by Mair, A. W. & G. R. Loeb Classical Library Volume 129. London: William Heinemann, 1921.

Source: http://www.theoi.com/Text/LycophronAlexandra.html

The pond

‘... the future is casting a shadow. No one else sees it but you know your fate.’

 Cassandra (Abba 1982)

The spell

'...it is men who deny the truth, not the gods who deny it to them, but the essential paradox is the same: The truth must be spoken, but cannot be believed.'

 Robert Zallar (1983) The cliffs of solitude: a reading of Robinson Jeffers. Cambridge Unversity Press.

 source: On Cassandra