less suited to the state of the speaker, that it cannot possibly be reconciled with his indignant condemnation of the same 'noble host', pronounced but a few minutes before. But if we want his fixed and deliberate opinion, we shall plainly do well to consult him at some hour when he is. . .more himself. And this Euripides permits us to do. For when Heracles comes back from the tomb with the disguised Alcestis, and faces Admetus for the first time since the discovery of the deception, he goes to that subject forthwith, and treats it in a manner as sober as we could possibly desire.
The tone indeed of his opening so little satisfies Balaustion, that before she begins to quote she puts in, as her fashion is at such places, a more than commonly eloquent description of her own. This, though excellent as original poetry, suffers as an exposition of Euripides from the unlucky fact that it does not accord with the speech which it introduces, as Balaustion herself ingenuously confesses by directing us to put the description out of sight again before we come to the speech itself. The whole passage is so interesting an example of Browning's method, that, though his version is here not so good as in the last citation and wants altogether the polish of the original, we will cite it nevertheless together with his preamble. The version is substantially faithful, and free at any rate from the suspicion of serving unduly any purpose of mine.
Ay, he it was advancing! In he strode
And took his stand before Admetos—turned
Now by despair to such a quietude,
He neither raised his voice nor spoke, this time,
The while his friend surveyed him steadily.
That friend looked rough with fighting: had he strained
Worst brute to breast was ever strangled yet?
Some how, a victory—for there stood the strength
Happy, as always; something grave perhaps;
The great vein-cordage on the fret-worked front
Black-swollen, beaded yet with battle-dew
The yellow hair of the hero!—his big frame
A-quiver with each muscle sinking back
Into the sleepy smooth it leaped from late.
Under the great guard of one arm, there leant
A shrouded something, live and woman-like,
Propped by the heart-beats 'neath the lion-coat.
