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Found with us, though our woeful plight he knew,

But what we brought not, hectoring bade us bring.

The ivy-cup uplifts he in his hands,

And swills the darkling mother's fiery blood,

Till the wine's flame enwrapped him, heating him.

Then did he wreathe his head with myrtle-spray.

Dissonant-howling,

and so on. It seems scarcely credible, when we are not under Browning's control, that what Balaustion infers from this description is the peevishness of the servant (whom without warrant she talks of as 'old') and the magnanimity of the guest. She is indeed a little hard-pushed by the tone which his 'grand benevolence' adopts when he presently appears; and she feels the need of a fresh make-up:

No touch indeed! 'The Helper' has recovered so thoroughly that he 'helps' the poor servitor (whom he knows and sees to be deeply afflicted by the recent bereavement) with a sort of maudlin sermon, asking him 'whether he is aware' that all men are mortal, and leading to the moral that one should drink and kiss the girls. This, thinks Balaustion, is the way to 'soften surliness' and 'bridle bad humours'. Such idolatrous devotion is beyond the reach of argument.

The truth is that the Heracles of the Alcestis, though he has his good qualities, is as far from moral sublimity as he well could be. Nor is he by any means strong in religion, presenting in this respect an instructive contrast to his friend Admetus, whose piety is his forte. Their diversity produces an awkward clash of opinion, and puts the politeness of Admetus to a trial, when Heracles will not see that a person doomed to death by prophetic fiat is as good as dead already. The tone he takes would be simply cruel, unless intended to imply doubts about the weight of the prediction; and it is clear that if he had known (which he does not) that an actual day had been named for Alcestis to die on, he would still not have shared the