🎵 Luyện Nghe Bài Hát: Theatre of Tragedy - Cassandra

 Cassandra
 
 He gave  her, yet tenfold claim'd in return -
 She hath no life but the  he for her wrought;
 Proffer'd to her his wauking heart - she turn'd it 
 Riposted with a tell-tale lore of  and scorn.
 
 Prophetess  fond?,
 Tho' her parle  truth:
 "I ken to-morrow -  me if ye can!",
 Yet  kiss and breath - Apollo's bane -
 Sëer of the future, not of 
 "Sicker!",  Cassandra.
 
 Still,  she lief and quaint in his eyne, a sight divine? -
 A mistress fuell'd by his prest haughtiness 
 If he did grant, wherefore then did he  foresee,
 Belike egal as it to  might be?!
 
 Prophetess  fond?,
 Tho' her parle of 
 "I ken to-morrow - refell  if ye can!",
 Yet the kiss and  - Apollo's bane -
 Sëer of the future, not of 
 "Sicker!", quoth 
 
 'Or was  an eried being,
 'Or was he weening  alack nay mo;
 Her naysay' raught  heart,
 Her daffing  the grave of all hope -
  belied her own words,
 He thought her life, save moreo'er 
 She held him  yet wee;
 He left her ne'er without  heart.