"Ay, but we heard all Athens in one ode . . .
You bring a boatful of Athenians here";

and Athenians they would not have at Syracuse, "with memories of
Salamis" to stir up the slaves in the quarry.

No prayers, no blandishments, availed the Rhodians; they were just about
to turn away and face the pirates in despair, when somebody raised a
question, and

". . . 'Wait!'
Cried they (and wait we did, you may be sure).
'That song was veritable Aischulos,
Familiar to the mouth of man and boy,
Old glory: how about Euripides?
Might you know any of his verses too?'"

Browning here makes use of the historical fact that Euripides was
reverenced far more by foreigners and the non-Athenian Greeks than by
the Athenians--for Balaustion, "the Rhodian," had been brought up in his
worship, though she knew and loved the other great Greek poets also; and
already it was known to our voyagers that the captives in the quarries
had found that those who could "teach Euripides to Syracuse" gained
indulgence far beyond what any of the others could obtain. Thus, when
the question sounded, "Might you know any of his verses too?" the
captain of the vessel cried:

"Out with our Sacred Anchor! Here she stands,
Balaustion! Strangers, greet the lyric girl!

* * * * *

Why, fast as snow in Thrace, the voyage through,
Has she been falling thick in flakes of him,

* * * * *

And so, although she has some other name,
We only call her Wild-Pomegranate-Flower,
Balaustion; since, where'er the red bloom burns

* * * * *

You shall find food, drink, odour all at once."

He called upon her to save their little band by singing a strophe. But
she could do better than that--she could recite a whole play:

"That strangest, saddest, sweetest song of his,
ALKESTIS!"

Only that very year had it reached "Our Isle o' the Rose"; she had seen
it, at Kameiros, played just as it was played at Athens, and had learnt
by heart "the perfect piece." Now, quick and subtle for all her
enthusiasm, she remembers to tell the Sicilians how, besides "its beauty
and the way it makes you weep," it does much honour to their own loved
deity:

"Herakles, whom you house i' the city here
Nobly, the Temple wide Greece talks about;
I come a s