Foreboding

[Something different for the night of the lunar eclipse.]

Tarrying near craggy cliffs, the clouds loom, Dark night’s fierce watchman peers oft toward the ‘izon.
Eclipséd moon, the curséd fate. Oh, Ilion.
Dread crimson news revealed by a fire ploom,
Tis this that tells the Delphian blind’s tomb.
Sorrow, come forth! Oh see Priam’s ruin.
Foreseen against Atreus’ son, Treason.
Who, save she, would call for the lyre’s glad tune?
Though moon is hidden now, as was that night,
Do flare and seer ordain our brutal fall?
You! Hark Cassandra’s call, fate’s time draws near.
Foreboding hour, escape the dimming light,
Each gets his chance to heed the quiet call.
Run fast beyond the crag and ne’er more veer.

Hopefully this wasn't too cryptic — I have a bad habit of being obscure in sonnets. Also, you'll find a commentary below that explains the scene if I lost you. Before you read it though, how about posting a comment saying what you think it alludes to.

Huh?

Sing out the song of sorrow, song of grief,       but let the good prevail. — The WATCHMAN

In one of the highest points in the history of tragedy, Aeschylus opens the first play of the Oresteia, Agamemnon. The scene is at the end of the Trojan war.

I'm still looking for that signal flare,                                        the fiery blaze from Troy, announcing
      it's been taken. These are my instructions                                 
      from the queen. She has a fiery heart,
      the determined resolution of a man.
      When I set my damp, restless bed up here,
      I never dream, for I don't fall asleep.
      No. Fear comes instead and stands beside me,
      so I can't shut my eyes and get some rest. — The WATCHMAN

A weary watchman talks about the endless nights of watching for the relay of fires across the hills to Argos, home of King Agamemnon, Atreus's son. The fires, which arrive, signal the fall of Troy and the impending arrival of Agamemnon home. This should be a joyous event. Only home seals the king, and the never heeded prophetess Cassandra, to a brutal death at the hands of Agamemnon's wife Clytemnestra and her lover Aegisthus.

As for all the rest, I'm saying nothing.       A great ox stands on my tongue. But this house,
      if it could speak, might tell some stories.
      I speak to those who know about these things.
      For those who don't, there's nothing I remember. — The WATCHMAN

The watchman knows far more than he feels safe to tell the doomed king, leaving fate to take its deadly course rages forward toward the destruction of the king, his revenge through son Orestes and the bloodthirsty persuit of Orestes by the Furies of matricide.

One disgrace exchanged for yet another,       the struggle to decide is hard.
      The man who sins is sinned against,
      the killer pays the price.
      Yet while Zeus sits upon his throne                              
      this decree from god remains—
      the man who acts will suffer.
      Who can then cast from this house
      its self-perpetuating curse?
      This race is wedded to destruction. —The CHORUS of ARGOS

The eclipse that causes the crimson moon is an artistic liberty I have taken.

Quotes taken from the translation of Agamemnon by Ian Johnston of Malaspina University-College.