comparison with Euripides most successfully when he goes completely his own way.  He was too robustly original to “transcribe” well, and his bold emphatic speech, curbed to the task of reproducing the choice and pregnant sobriety of Attic style, is apt to eliminate everything but the sobriety.  The “transcribed” Greek is often yet flatter than “literal” versions of Greek verse are wont to be, and when Browning speaks in his own person the style recovers itself with a sudden and vehement bound, like a noble wild creature abruptly released from restraint.  Among the finest of these “recoveries” are the bursts of description which Balaustion’s enthusiasm interjects between the passages of dialogue.  Such is the magnificent picture of the coming of Herakles.  In the original he merely enters as the chorus end their song, addressing them with the simple inquiry, “Friends, is Admetos haply within?” to which the chorus reply, like civil retainers, “Yes, Herakles, he is at home.”  Browning, or his Balaustion, cannot permit the mighty undoer of the tragic harms to come on in this homely fashion.  A great interrupting voice rings suddenly through the dispirited maunderings of Admetos’ house-folk; and the hearty greeting, “My hosts here!” thrills them with the sense that something good and opportune is at hand:—­

     “Sudden into the midst of sorrow leapt,
      Along with the gay cheer of that great voice
      Hope, joy, salvation:  Herakles was here! 
      Himself o’ the threshold, sent his voice on first
      To herald all that human and divine
      I’ the weary, happy face of him,—­half god,
      Half man, which made the god-part god the more.”

The heroic helpfulness of Herakles is no doubt the chief thing for Browning in the story.  The large gladness of spirit with which he confronts the meticulous and perfunctory mourning of the stricken household reflected his own habitual temper with peculiar vividness.  But it is clear that the Euripidean story contained an element which Browning could not assimilate—­Admetos’ acceptance of Alkestis’ sacrifice.  To the Greek the action seemed quite in order; the persons who really incurred his reproof were Admetos’ parents, who in spite of their advanced years refused to anticipate their approaching death in their son’s favour.  Browning cannot away with an Admetos who, from sheer reluctance to die, allowed his wife to suffer death in his place; and he characteristically suggests a version of the story in which its issues are determined from first to last, and on both sides, by self-sacrificing love.  Admetos is now the large-minded king who grieves to be called away before his work for his people is done.  Alkestis seeks, with Apollo’s leave, to take his place, so that her lord may live and carry out the purposes of his soul,—­

     “Nor let Zeus lose the monarch meant in thee.”