sical ground, by fugue and
imitation, into the richness of combined harmony. But we look in vain
for the progressive and thickening incidents of the _Oedipus_.

The action of the _Bacchae_ is also simple. It is the history of the
reception of the worship of Bacchus in Thebes; who, first depriving
Pentheus of his reason, and thereby drawing him on to his ruin,
establishes his divinity. The interest of the scene arises from the
gradual process by which the derangement of the Theban king is
effected, which is powerfully and originally described. It would be
comic, were it unconnected with religion. As it is, it exhibits the
grave irony of a god triumphing over the impotent presumption of man,
the sport and terrible mischievousness of an insulted deity. It is an
exemplification of the adage, _quem deus vult perdere, prius
dementat_. So delicately balanced is the action along the verge of the
sublime and grotesque, that it is both solemn and humorous, without
violence to the propriety of the composition: the mad and merry fire
of the Chorus, the imbecile mirth of old Cadmus and Tiresias, and the
infatuation of Pentheus, who is ultimately induced to dress himself in
female garb to gain admittance among the Bacchae, are made to
harmonize with the terrible catastrophe which concludes the life of
the intruder. Perhaps the victim's first discovery of the disguised
deity is the finest conception in this splendid drama. His madness
enables him to discern the emblematic horns on the head of Bacchus,
which were hid from him when in his sound mind; yet this discovery,
instead of leading him to an acknowledgement of the divinity,
provides him only with matter for a stupid and perplexed
astonishment.

[Greek: kai tauros hemin prosthen hegeisthai dokeis,
kai so kerate krati prospephykenai.
all' e pot' estha ther; tetaurosai gar oun.][18]

This play is on the whole the most favourable specimen of the genius
of Euripides--not breathing the sweet composure, the melodious
fullness, the majesty and grace of Sophocles; nor rudely and
overpoweringly tragic as Aeschylus; but brilliant, versatile,
imaginative, as well as deeply pathetic.

[18]

A Bull, thou seem'st to lead us; on thy head
Horns have grown forth: wast heretofore a beast?
For such thy semblance now.

Here then are two dramas of extreme poetical power, but deficient in
skilfulness of plot. Are they on that account to be rated below th