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BALAUSTION'S ADVENTURE.
13
And so, although she has some other name,We only call her Wild-pomegranate-flower,Balaustion; since, where'er the red bloom burnsI' the dull dark verdure of the bounteous tree,Dethroning, in the Rosy Isle, the rose,You shall find food, drink, odour, all at once;Cool leaves to bind about an aching brow,And, never much away, the nightingale.Sing them a strophe, with the turn-again,Down to the verse that ends all, proverb-like.And save us, thou Balaustion, bless the name!"
But I cried "Brother Greek! better than so,—Save us, and I have courage to reciteThe main of a whole play from first to last;That strangest, saddest, sweetest song of his,Alkestis; which was taught, long years agoAt Athens, in Glaukinos' archonship,
