She images the divine Apollo as somewhat daunted, and images the dread meeting of these two with modern, not Greek imagination.

It is like the meeting, she thinks, of a ruined eagle, caught as he swooped in a gorge, half heedless, yet terrific, with a lion, the haunter of the gorge, the lord of the ground, who pauses, ere he try the worst with the frightful, unfamiliar creature, known in the shadows and silences of the sky but not known here.

It is the first example we have of Balaustion's imaginative power working for itself.

There is another, farther on, where she stays her recitation to describe Death's rush in on Alkestis when the dialogue between him and Apollo is over-- And, in the fire-flash of the appalling sword, The uprush and the outburst, the onslaught Of Death's portentous passage through the door, Apollon stood a pitying moment-space: I caught one last gold gaze upon the night, Nearing the world now: and the God was gone, And mortals left to deal with misery.
So she speaks, as if she saw more than Euripides, as if to her the invisible were visible--as it was.

To see the eternal unseen is the dower of imagination in its loftiest mood.
She is as much at home with the hero of earth, the highest manhood, as she is with the gods.