age across the lips of men as diverse as Alexander and Clement of Alexandria, Caesar and Brutus, Cicero and St. Paul, Milton and Goethe, Cardinal Newman and Bernard Shaw, the echoes of this Euripides, who has so long out-lived his own theatre, his own tongue, his own gods, as, it may be, he will outlast ours. The roll of his past lovers can be no barren study for those who love him still. "Perhaps this very woodland here And stood and looked from tree to tree |