20
 
'Most honour'd Lady, who from ancient doom
Wert made heaven's wife, and art on earth besought
With gracious happiness of all to whom
Thy holy wedlock hath my burden brought,
Save me from Aphrodite's fell pursuit,
And guard unto the birth Love's hapless fruit,
Which she for cruel spite would bring to nought.

21
 
'As once from her thou wert not shamed to take
Her beauty's zone, thy beauty to enhance;
For which again Zeus loved thee, to forsake
His warlike ire in faithful dalliance;
Show me what means may win my Love to me,
Or how that I may come, if so may be,
Within the favour of his countenance.

22
 
'If there be any place for tears or prayer,
If there be need for succour in distress,
Now is the very hour of all despair,
Here is the heart of grief and bitterness.
Motherly pity, bend thy face and grant
One beam of ruth to thy poor suppliant,
Nor turn me from thine altar comfortless.'

23
 
Even as she pray'd a cloud spread through the cell,
And 'mid the wreathings of the vapour dim
The goddess grew in glory visible,
Like some barbaric queen in festal trim;
Such the attire and ornaments she wore,
When o'er the forgèd threshold of the floor
Of Zeus's house she stept to visit him.

24
 
From either ear, ring'd to its piercèd lobe
A triple jewel hung, with gold enchas't;
And o'er her breasts her wide ambrosial robe
With many a shining golden clasp was brac't;
The flowering on its smooth embroider'd lawn
Gather'd to colour where the zone was drawn
In fringe of golden tassels at her waist.

25
 
Her curling hair with plaited braid and brail,
Pendant or loop'd about her head divine,
Lay hidden half beneath a golden veil,
Bright as the rippling ocean in sunshine:
And on the ground, flashing whene'er she stept,
Beneath her feet the dazzling lightnings lept
From the gold network of her sandals fine.

26
 
Thus Hera stood in royal guise bedeckt
Before poor Psyche on the stair that knelt,
Whose new-nursed hope at that display was checkt
And all her happier thoughts gan fade and melt.
She saw no kindness in such haughty mien,
And venturing not to look upon the queen,
Bow'd down in woe to hear her sentence dealt.

27
 
And thus the goddess spake, 'In vain thou suest,
Most miserable Psyche; though my heart
Be full of hate for her whose hate thou ruest,
And pride and pity move me to thy part:
Yet not till Zeus make known his will, coud I,
Least of the blameless gods that dwell on high,
Assist thee, wert thou worthier than thou art.

28
 
'But know if Eros love thee, that thy hopes
Should rest on him; and I would bid thee go
Where in his mother's house apart he mopes
Grieving for loss of thee in secret woe:
For should he take thee back, there is no power
In earth or heaven will hurt thee from that hour,
Nay, not if Zeus himself should prove thy foe.'

29
 
Thus saying she was gone, and Psyche now
Surprised by comfort rose and went her way,
Resolved in heart, and only wondering how
'Twas possible to come where Eros lay;
Since that her feet, however she might roam,
Coud never travel to the heavenly home
Of Love, beyond the bounds of mortal day:

30
 
Yet must she come to him. And now 'twas proved
How that to Lovers, as is told in song,
Seeking the way no place is far removed;
Nor is there any obstacle so strong,
Nor bar so fix'd that it can hinder them:
And how to reach heaven's gate by stratagem
Vex'd not the venturous heart of Psyche long.

31
 
To face her enemy might well avail:
Wherefore to Cypris' shrine her steps she bent,
Hoping the goddess in her hate might hale
Her body to the skies for punishment,
Whate'er to be; yet now her fiercest wrath
Seem'd happiest fortune, seeing 'twas the path
Whereby alone unto her love she went.
 

NOVEMBER

1
 
But Aphrodite to the house of Zeus
Being bound, bade beckon out her milkwhite steeds,
Four doves, that ready to her royal use
In golden cages stood and peck'd the seeds:
Best of the nimble air's high-sailing folk
That wore with pride the marking of her yoke,
And cooed in envy of her gentle needs.

2
 
These drew in turn her chariot, when in state
Along the heaven with all her train she fared;
And oft in journeying to the skiey gate
Of Zeus's palace high their flight had dared,
Which darkest vapour and thick glooms enshroud
Above all else in the perpetual cloud,
Wherethro' to mount again they stood prepared,

3
 
Sleeking their feathers, by her shining car;
The same Hephæstos wrought for her, when he,
Bruised in his hideous fall from heaven afar,
Was nursed by Thetis, and Eurynomè,
The daughter of the ever-refluent main;
With whom he dwelt till he grew sound again,
Down in a hollow cave beside the sea:

4
 
And them for kindness done was prompt to serve,
Forging them brooches rich in make and mode,
Earrings, and supple chains of jointed curve,
And other trinkets, while he there abode:
And none of gods or men knew of his home,
But they two only; and the salt sea-foam
To and fro past his cavern ever flow'd.

5
 
'Twas then he wrought this work within the cave,
Emboss'd with rich design, a moonèd car;
And when return'd to heaven to Venus gave,
In form imagined like her crescent star;
Which circling nearest earth, maketh at night
To wakeful mortal men shadow and light
Alone of all the stars in heaven that are.

6
 
Two slender wheels it had, with fretted tires
Of biting adamant, to take firm hold
Of cloud or ether; and their whirling fires
Threw off the air in halo where they roll'd:
And either nave that round the axle turn'd
A ruby was, whose steady crimson burn'd
Betwixt the twin speed-mingling fans of gold.

7
 
Thereon the naked goddess mounting, shook
The reins; whereat the doves their wings outspread,
And rising high their flight to heaven they took:
And all the birds, that in those courts were bred,
Of her broad eaves the nested families,
Sparrows and swallows, join'd their companies
Awhile and twitter'd to her overhead.

8
 
But onward she with fading tracks of flame
Sped swiftly, till she reacht her journey's end:
And when within the house of Zeus she came,
She pray'd the Sire of Heaven that he would lend
Hermes, the Argus-slayer, for her hest;
And he being granted her at her request,
She went forthwith to seek him and to send.

9
 
Who happ'd within the palace then to wait
Upon the almighty pleasure; and her tale
Was quickly told, and he made answer straight
That he would find the truant without fail;
Asking the goddess by what signs her slave
Might best be known, and what the price she gave
For capture, or admitted for the bail.

10
 
All which he took his silver stile to write
In letters large upon a waxed board;
Her age and name, her colour, face and height,
Her home, and parentage, and the reward:
And then read o'er as 'twas to be proclaim'd.
And she took oath to give the price she named,
Without demur, when Psyche was restored.

11
 
Then on his head he closely set his cap
With earèd wings erect, and o'er his knee
He cross'd each foot in turn to prove the strap
That bound his wingèd sandals, and shook free
His chlamys, and gat up, and in his hand
Taking his fair white-ribbon'd herald's wand,
Lept forth on air, accoutred cap-a-pè.

12
 
And piloting along the mid-day sky,
Held southward, till the narrow map of Crete
Lay like a fleck in azure 'neath his eye;
When down he came, and as an eagle fleet
Drops in some combe, then checks his headlong stoop
With wide-flung wing, wheeling in level swoop
To strike the bleating quarry with his feet,

13
 
Thus he alighted; and in every town
In all the isle before the close of day
Had cried the message, which he carried down,
Of Psyche, Aphrodite's runaway;
That whosoever found the same and caught,
And by such time unto her temple brought,
To him the goddess would this guerdon pay:

14
 
Six honied kisses from her rosy mouth
Would Cytherea give, and one beside
To quench at heart for aye love's mortal drouth:
But unto him that hid her, Woe betide!
Which now was on all tongues, and Psyche's name
Herself o'erheard, or ever nigh she came
To Aphrodite's temple where she hied.

15
 
When since she found her way to heaven was safe,
She only wisht to make it soon and sure;
Nor fear'd to meet the goddess in her chafe,
So she her self-surrender might secure,
And not be given of other for the price;
Nor was there need of any artifice
Her once resplendent beauty to obscure.

16
 
For now so changed she was by heavy woe,
That for the little likeness that she bore
To her description she was fear'd to go
Within the fane; and when she stood before
The priestess, scarce coud she with oath persuade
That she was Psyche, the renownèd maid,
Whom men had left the temple to adore.

17
 
But when to Hermes she was shown and given,
He took no doubt, but eager to be quit,
And proud of speed, return'd with her to heaven,
And left her with the proclamation writ,
Hung at her neck, the board with letters large,
At Aphrodite's gate with those in charge;
And up whence first he came made haste to flit.

18
 
But hapless Psyche fell, for so it chanced,
To moody Synethea's care, the one
Of Aphrodite's train whom she advanced
To try the work abandon'd by her son.
Who by perpetual presence made ill end
Of good or bad; though she coud both amend,
And merit praise for work by her begun.

19
 
But she to better thought her heart had shut,
And proved she had a spite beyond compare:
Nor coud the keenest taunts her anger glut,
Which she when sour'd was never wont to spare:
And now she mock'd at Psyche's shame and grief,
As only she might do, and to her chief
Along the courtyard dragg'd her by the hair.

20
 
Nor now was Aphrodite kinder grown:
Having her hated rival in her power,
She laught for joy, and in triumphant tone
Bade her a merry welcome to her bower:
''Tis fit indeed daughters-in-law should wait
Upon their mothers; but thou comest late,
Psyche; I lookt for thee before this hour.

21
 
'And yet,' thus gave she rein to jeer and gibe,
'Forgive me if I held thee negligent,
Or if accustom'd vanity ascribe
An honour to myself that was not meant.
Thy lover is it, who so dearly prized
The pretty soul, then left her and despised?
To him more like thy heavenward steps were bent:

22
 
'Nor without reason: Zeus, I tell thee, swoon'd
To hear the story of the drop of oil,
The revelation and the ghastly wound:
My merriment is but my fear's recoil.
But if my son was unkind, thou shalt see
How kind a goddess can his mother be
To bring thy tainted honour clear of soil.'

23
 
And so, to match her promise with her mirth,
Two of her ministers she call'd in ken,
That work the melancholy of the earth;
Merimna that with care perplexes, when
The hearts of mortals have the gods forgot,
And Lypè, that her sorrow spares them not,
When mortals have forgot their fellow men.

24
 
These, like twin sharks that in a fair ship's wake
Swim constant, showing 'bove the water blue
Their shearing fins, and hasty ravin make
Of overthrow or offal, so these two
On Aphrodite's passing follow hard;
And now she offer'd to their glut's regard
Sweet Psyche, with command their wont to do.

25
 
But in what secret chamber their foul task
These soul-tormentors plied, or what their skill,
Pity of tender nature may not ask,
Nor poet stain his rhyme with such an ill.
But they at last themselves turn'd from their rack,
Weary of cruelty, and led her back,
Saying that further torture were to kill.

26
 
Then when the goddess saw her, more she mockt
'Art thou the woman of the earth,' she said,
'That hast in sorceries mine Eros lockt,
And stood thyself for worship in my stead?
Looking that I should pity thee, or care
For what illicit offspring thou may'st bear;
Or let thee to that god my son be wed?

27
 
'I know thy trick; and thou art one of them
Who steal love's favour in the gentle way,
Wearing submission for a diadem,
Patience and suffering for thy rich array:
Thou wilt be modest, kind, implicit, so
To rest thy wily spirit out of show
That it may leap the livelier into play:

28
 
'Devout at doing nothing, if so be
The grace become thee well; but active yet
Above all others be there none to see
Thy business, and thine eager face asweat.
Lo! I will prove thy talent: thou may'st live,
And all that thou desirest will I give,
If thou perform the task which I shall set.'

29
 
She took her then aside, and bade her heed
A heap of grains piled high upon the floor,
Millet and mustard, hemp and poppy seed,
And fern-bloom's undistinguishable spore,
All kinds of pulse, of grasses, and of spice,
Clover and linseed, rape, and corn, and rice,
Dodder, and sesame, and many more.

30
 
'Sort me these seeds' she said; 'it now is night,
I will return at morning; if I find
That thou hast separated all aright,
Each grain from other grain after its kind,
And set them in unmingl'd heaps apart,
Then shall thy wish be granted to thine heart.
Whereat she turn'd, and closed the door behind.

WINTER

PSYCHE'S TRIALS AND RECEPTION
INTO HEAVEN
 

DECEMBER

1
 
A single lamp there stood beside the heap,
And shed thereon its mocking golden light;
Such as might tempt the weary eye to sleep
Rather than prick the nerve of taskèd sight.
Yet Psyche, not to fail for lack of zeal,
With good will sat her down to her ordeal,
Sorting the larger seeds as best she might.

2
 
When lo! upon the wall, a shadow past
Of doubtful shape, across the chamber dim
Moving with speed: and seeing nought that cast
The shade, she bent her down the flame to trim;
And there the beast itself, a little ant,
Climb'd up in compass of the lustre scant,
Upon the bowl of oil ran round the rim.

3
 
Smiling to see the creature of her fear
So dwarf'd by truth, she watcht him where he crept,
For mere distraction telling in his ear
What straits she then was in, and telling wept.
Whereat he stood and trim'd his horns; but ere
Her tale was done resumed his manner scare,
Ran down, and on his way in darkness kept.

4
 
But she intent drew forth with dextrous hand
The larger seeds, or push'd the smaller back,
Or light from heavy with her breathing fan'd.
When suddenly she saw the floor grow black,
And troops of ants, flowing in noiseless train,
Moved to the hill of seeds, as o'er a plain
Armies approach a city for attack;

5
 
And gathering on the grain, began to strive
With grappling horns: and each from out the heap
His burden drew, and all their motion live
Struggled and slid upon the surface steep.
And Psyche wonder'd, watching them, to find
The creatures separated kind from kind:
Till dizzied with the sight she fell asleep.

6
 
And when she woke 'twas with the morning sound
Of Aphrodite's anger at the door,
Whom high amaze stay'd backward, as she found
Her foe asleep with all her trouble o'er:
And round the room beheld, in order due,
The piles arranged distinct and sorted true,
Grain with grain, seed with seed, and spore with spore.

7
 
She fiercely cried 'Thou shalt not thus escape;
For to this marvel dar'st thou not pretend.
There is but one that could this order shape,
Demeter,—but I knew her not thy friend.
Therefore another trial will I set,
In which she cannot aid thee nor abet,
But thou thyself must bring it fair to end.'

8
 
Thereon she sped her to the bounds of Thrace,
And set her by a river deep and wide,
And said 'To east beyond this stream, a race
Of golden-fleecèd sheep at pasture bide.
Go seek them out; and this thy task, to pull
But one lock for me of their precious wool,
And give it in my hands at eventide:

9
 
'This do and thou shalt have thy heart's desire.'
Which said, she fled and left her by the stream:
And Psyche then, with courage still entire,
Had plunged therein; but now of great esteem
Her life she rated, while it lent a spell
Wherein she yet might hope to quit her well,
And in one winning all her woes redeem.

10
 
There as she stood in doubt, a fluting voice
Rose from the flood, 'Psyche, be not afraid
To hear a reed give tongue, for 'twas of choice
That I from mortal flesh a plant was made.
My name is Syrinx; once from mighty Pan
Into the drowning river as I ran,
A fearful prayer my steps for ever stay'd.

11
 
'But by that change in many climes I live;
And Pan, my lover, who to me alone
Is true and does me honour, I forgive—
Nor if I speak in sorrow is't my own:
Rather for thee my voice I now uplift
To warn thee plunge not in the river swift,
Nor seek the golden sheep to men unknown.

12
 
'If thou should cross the stream, which may not be,
Thou coudst not climb upon the hanging rocks,
Nor ever, as the goddess bade thee, see
The pasture of the yellow-fleecèd flocks:
Or if thou coud, their herded horns would gore
And slay thee on the crags, or thrust thee o'er
Ere thou coudst rob them of their golden locks.

13
 
'The goddess means thy death. But I can show
How thy obedience yet may thwart her will.
At noon the golden flocks descend below,
Leaving the scented herbage of the hill,
And where the shelving banks to shallows fall,
Drink at the rippling water one and all,
Nor back return till they have drawn their fill.

14
 
'I will command a thornbush, that it stoop
Over some ram that steppeth by in peace,
And him in all its prickles firmly coop,
Making thee seizure of his golden fleece;
So without peril of his angry horns
Shalt thou be quit: for he upon the thorns
Must leave his ransom ere he win release.'

15
 
Then Psyche thankt her for her kind befriending,
And hid among the rushes looking east;
And when noon came she saw the flock descending
Out of the hills; and lo! one golden beast
Caught in a thornbush; and the mighty brute
Struggl'd and tore it from its twisted root
Into the stream, or e'er he was releas't.

16
 
And when they water'd were and gone, the breeze
Floated the freighted thorn where Psyche lay:
Whence she unhook'd the golden wool at ease,
And back to heaven for passage swift gan pray.
And Hermes, who was sent to be her guide
Ifso she lived, came down at eventide,
And bore her thither ere the close of day.

17
 
But when the goddess saw the locks of gold
Held to her hands, her heart with wrath o'erran:
'Most desperate thou, and by abetting bold,
That dost outwit me, prove thee as I can.
Yet this work is not thine: there is but one
Of all the gods who coud the thing have done.
Hast thou a friend too in the lusty Pan?

18
 
'I'll give thee trial where he cannot aid.'
Which said, she led her to a torrid land,
Level and black, but not with flood or shade,
For nothing coud the mighty heat withstand,
Which aye from morn till eve the naked sun
Pour'd on that plain, where never foot had run,
Nor any herb sprung on its molten sand.

19
 
Far off a gloomy mountain rose alone:
And Aphrodite, thither pointing, said
'There lies thy task. Out of the topmost stone
Of yonder hill upwells a fountain head.
Take thou this goblet; brimming must thou bring
Its cup with water from that sacred spring,
If ever to my son thou wouldst be wed.'

20
 
Saying, she gave into her hands a bowl
Cut of one crystal, open, broad and fair;
And bade her at all hazard keep it whole,
For heaven held nought beside so fine or rare.
Then was she gone; and Psyche on the plain
Now doubted if she ever should regain
The love of Eros, strove she howsoe'er.

21
 
Yet as a helmsman, at the word to tack,
Swiftly without a thought puts down his helm,
So Psyche turn'd to tread that desert black,
Since was no fear that coud her heart o'erwhelm;
Nor knew she that she went the fount to seek
Of cold Cocytus, springing to the peak,
Secretly from his source in Pluto's realm.

22
 
All night and day she journey'd, and at last
Come to the rock gazed up in vain around:
Nothing she saw but precipices vast
O'er ruined scarps, with rugged ridges crown'd:
And creeping to a cleft to rest in shade,
Or e'er the desperate venture she assay'd,
She fell asleep upon the stony ground.

23
 
A dream came to her, thus: she stood alone
Within her palace in the high ravine;
Where nought but she was changed, but she to stone.
Worshippers throng'd the court, and still were seen
Folk flying from the peak, who, ever more
Flying and flying, lighted on the floor,
Hail! cried they, wife of Eros, adorèd queen!

24
 
A hurtling of the battl'd air disturb'd
Her sunken sense, and waked her eyes to meet
The kingly bird of Zeus, himself that curb'd
His swooping course, alighting at her feet;
With motion gentle, his far-darting eye
In kindness dim'd upon her, he drew nigh,
And thus in words unveil'd her foe's deceit:

25
 
'In vain, poor Psyche, hast thou hither striven
Across the fiery plain toiling so well;
Cruelly to destruction art thou driven
By her, whose hate thou canst not quit nor quell.
No mortal foot may scale this horrid mount,
And those black waters of its topmost fount
Are guarded by the hornèd snakes of hell.

26
 
'Its little rill is an upleaping jet
Of cold Cocytus, which for ever licks
Earth's base, and when with Acheron 'tis met,
Its waters with that other cannot mix,
Which holds the elemental air dissolved;
But with it in its ceaseless course revolved
Issues unmingl'd in the lake of Styx.

27
 
'The souls of murderers, in guise of fish,
Scream as they swim therein and wail for cold,
Their times of woe determined by the wish
Of them they murder'd on the earth of old:
Whom each five years they see, whene'er they make
Their passage to the Acherusian lake,
And there release may win from pains condoled.

28
 
'For if the pitying ear of them they slew
Be haply piercèd by their voices spare,
Then are they freed from pain; as are some few,
But, for the most, again they forward fare
To Tartarus obscene, and outcast thence
Are hurried back into the cold intense,
And with new company their torments share.

29
 
'Its biting lymph may not be touch'd of man
Or god, unless the Fates have so ordain'd;
Nor coud I in thy favour break the ban,
Nor pass the dragons that thereby are chain'd,
Didst thou not bear the sacred cup of Zeus;
Which, for thy peril lent, shall turn to use,
And truly do the service which it feign'd.'

30
 
Thus as he spake, his talons made he ring
Around the crystal bowl, and soaring high
Descended as from heaven upon the spring:
Nor dared the hornèd snakes of hell deny
The minister of Zeus, that bore his cup,
To fill it with their trusted water up,
Thence to the King of heaven therewith to fly.

31
 
But he to Psyche bent his gracious speed,
And bidding her to mount his feather'd back
Bore her aloft as once young Ganymede;
Nor ever made his steady flight to slack,
Ere that he set her down beside her goal,
And gave into her hands the crystal bowl
Unspill'd, o'erbrimming with the water black.
 

JANUARY

1
 
But Eros now recover'd from his hurt,
Felt other pangs; for who would not relent
Weighing the small crime and unmatch'd desert
Of Psyche with her cruel punishment?
And shamed he grew to be so near allied
To her, who by her taunts awoke his pride,
As his compassion by her spite unspent.

2
 
Which Aphrodite seeing, wax'd more firm
That he should never meet with Psyche more;
And had in thought already set the term
To their communion with that trial sore,
Which sent her forth upon a quest accurst,
And not to be accomplisht, that of thirst
She there might perish on hell's torrid shore.

3
 
And now it chanced that she had called her son
Into her presence-chamber, to unfold
Psyche's destruction, that her fate might stun
What love remained by duty uncontrol'd;
And he to hide his tears' rebellious storm
Was fled; when in his place another form
Rose 'neath the golden lintel; and behold

4
 
Psyche herself, in slow and balanced strain,
Poising the crystal bowl with fearful heed,
Her eyes at watch upon the steadied plane,
And whole soul gather'd in the single deed.
Onward she came, and stooping to the floor
Set down the cup unspill'd and brimming o'er
At Aphrodite's feet, and rose up freed.

5
 
Surprise o'ercame the goddess, and she too
Stood like a statue, but with passion pale:
Till, when her victim nothing spake, she threw
Some kindness in her voice, and bade her hail;
But in the smiling judge 'twas plain to see—
Saying 'What water bringst thou here to me?'—
That justice over hate should not prevail.

6
 
Then Psyche said 'This is the biting flood
Of black Cocytus, silver'd with the gleam
Of souls, that guilty of another's blood
Are pent therein, and as they swim they scream.
The hornèd snakes of hell, upon the mount
Enchain'd, for ever guard the livid fount:
And but the Fates can grant to touch the stream.'

7
 
'Wherefore,' the goddess cried, ''tis plain that none
But one I wot of coud this thing have wrought.
That which another doth may well be done,
Nor thou the nearer to my promise brought.
Thou buildest on a hope to be destroy'd,
If thou accept conditions, and avoid
Thy parcel, nor thyself accomplish aught.

8
 
'Was it not kindness in me, being averse
To all thy wish, to yield me thus to grant
Thy heart's desire,—and nothing loathe I worse,—
If thou wouldst only work as well as want?
See, now I will not yet be all denial,
But offer thee one last determining trial;
And let it be a mutual covenant:

9
 
'This box,' and in her hands she took a pyx
Square-cut, of dark obsidian's rarest green,
'Take; and therewith beyond Tartarean Styx
Go thou, and entering Hades' house obscene,
Say to Persephonè, If 'tis thy will
To shew me so much favour, prithee fill
This little vase with beauty for Love's queen.

10
 
'She begs but what shall well o'erlast a day;
For of her own was much of late outspent
In nursing of her son, in bed who lay
Wounded by me, who for the gift am sent.
Then bring me what she gives, and with all speed;
For truth to say I stand, thou seest, in need
Of some such charm in my disparagement.

11
 
'If thou return to me with that acquist,
Having thyself the journey made, I swear
That day to give thee whatsoe'er thou list,
An be it my son. Now, Psyche, wilt thou dare?'
And Psyche said 'If this thou truly mean,
I will go down to Tartarus obscene,
And beg of Hades' queen thy beauty there.

12
 
'Show me the way.' But Aphrodite said,
'That may'st thou find. Yet I will place thee whence
A way there is: mortals have on it sped;
Ay, and return'd thereby: so let us hence.'
Then swift to earth her willing prey she bore,
And left her on the wide Laconian shore,
Alone, at midnight, in the darkness dense.

13
 
'Twas winter; and as shivering Psyche sat
Waiting for morn, she question'd in her mind
What place the goddess meant, arrived whereat
She might descend to hell, or how should find
The way which Gods to living men deny.
'No Orpheus, nay, nor Hercules am I,'
Said she, 'to loosen where the great Gods bind.'

14
 
And when at length the long-delaying dawn
Broke on the peaks of huge Taÿgetus,
And Psyche through the skirts of dark withdrawn
Look'd on that promontory mountainous,
And saw high-crested Taleton in snow,
Her heart sank, and she wept with head bent low
The malice of her foe dispiteous.

15
 
And seeing near at hand an ancient tower,
Deserted now, but once a hold of men,
She came thereto, and, though 'twas all her power,
Mounted its steep unbroken stair again.
'Surely,' she said, for now a second time
She thought to die—'this little height I climb
Will prove my shortest road to Pluto's den.

16
 
'Hence must I come to Tartarus; once there
Turn as I may,' and straight to death had sprung;
When in the mossy tower the imprison'd air
Was shaken, and the hoary stones gave tongue,
'Stand firm! Stand firm!' that rugged voice outcried;
'Of such as choose despondency for guide
Hast thou not heard what bitterest fate is sung?

17
 
'Hearken; for I the road and means can teach
How thou may'st come to hell and yet escape.
And first must thou, that upper gate to reach,
Along these seagirt hills thy journey shape,
To where the land in sea dips furthest South
At Tænarus and Hades' earthly mouth,
Hard by Poseidon's temple at the cape.

18
 
'Thereby may one descend: but they that make
That passage down must go provided well.
So take in either hand a honey-cake
Of pearlèd barley mix'd with hydromel;
And in thy mouth two doits, first having bound
The pyx beneath thy robe enwrap'd around:
Thus set thou forth; and mark what more I tell.

19
 
'When thou hast gone alone some half thy road
Thou wilt o'ertake a lame outwearied ass;
And one that beats him, tottering 'neath his load
Of loosely bundl'd wood, will cry Alas;
Help me, kind friend, my faggots to adjust!
But thou that silly cripple's words mistrust;
'Tis planted for thy death. Note it and pass.

20
 
'And when thy road the Stygian river joins,
Where woolly Charon ferries o'er the dead,
He will demand his fare: one of thy coins
Force with thy tongue between thy teeth, thy head
Offering instead of hand to give the doit.
His fingers in this custom are adroit,
And thine must not set down the barleybread.

21
 
'Then in his crazy bark as, ferrying o'er
The stream, thou sittest, one that seems to float
Rather than swim, midway 'twixt shore and shore,
Will stretch his fleshless hand upon the boat,
And beg thee of thy pity take him in.
Shut thy soft ear unto his clamour thin,
Nor for a phantom deed thyself devote.

22
 
'Next, on the further bank when thou art stept,
Three wizen'd women weaving at the woof
Will stop, and pray thee in their art adept
To free their tangl'd threads. Hold thou aloof;
For this and other traps thy foe hath plan'd
To make thee drop the cakes out of thy hand,
Putting thy prudence to perpetual proof.

23
 
'For by one cake thou comest into Hell,
And by one cake departest; since the hound
That guards the gate is ever pleasèd well
To taste man's meal, or sweeten'd grain unground.
Cast him a cake; for that thou may'st go free
Even to the mansion of Persephonè,
Withouten stay or peril, safe and sound.

24
 
'She will receive thee kindly; thou decline
Her courtesies, and make the floor thy seat;
Refusing what is offer'd, food or wine;
Save only beg a crust of bread to eat.
Then tell thy mission, and her present take;
Which when thou hast, set forth with pyx and cake,
One in each hand, while yet thou may'st retreat.

25
 
'Giving thy second cake to Cerberus,
The coin to Charon, and that way whereby
Thou camest following, thou comest thus
To see again the starry choir on high.
But guard thou well the pyx, nor once uplift
The lid to look on Persephassa's gift;
Else 'tis in vain I bid thee now not die.'

26
 
Then Psyche thank'd the tower, and stoopt her mouth
To kiss the stones upon his rampart hoary;
And coming down his stair went hasting south,
Along the steep Tænarian promontory;
And found the cave and temple by the cape,
And took the cakes and coins, and made escape
Beneath the earth, according to his story.

27
 
And overtook the ass, but lent no aid;
And offer'd Charon with her teeth his fee;
And pass'd the floating ghost, in vain who pray'd;
And turned her back upon the weavers three;
And threw the honey-cake to that hell-hound
Three-headed Cerberus; and safe and sound,
Came to the mansion of Persephonè.

28
 
Kindly received, she courtesy declined:
Sat on the ground; ate not, save where she lay,
A crust of bread; reveal'd the goddess' mind;
The gift took; and return'd upon her way:
Gave Cerberus his cake, Charon his fare,
And saw through Hell's mouth to the purple air
And one by one the keen stars melt in day.

29
 
Awhile from so long journeying in the shades
Resting at Tænarus she came to know
How, up the eastern coast some forty stades,
There stood a temple of her goddess foe.
There would she make her offering, there reclaim
The prize, which now 'twas happiness to name,
The joy that should redeem all passèd woe.

30
 
And wending by the sunny shore at noon,
She with her pyx, and wondering what it hid,
Of what kind, what the fashion of the boon
Coud be, that she to look on was forbid,—
Alas for Innocence so hard to teach!—
At fancy's prick she sat her on the beach,
And to content desire lifted the lid.

31
 
She saw within nothing: But o'er her sight
That looked on nothing gan a darkness creep.
A cloudy poison, mix'd of Stygian night,
Rapt her to deadly and infernal sleep.
Backward she fell, like one when all is o'er,
And lay outstretch'd, as lies upon the shore
A drown'd corpse cast up by the murmuring deep.
 

FEBRUARY

1
 
While Eros in his chamber hid his tears,
Mourning the loss of Psyche and her fate,
The rumour of her safety reacht his ears
And how she came to Aphrodite's gate:
Whereat with hope return'd his hardihood,
And secretly he purposed while he coud
Himself to save her from the goddess' hate.

2
 
Then learning what he might and guessing more,
His ready wit came soon to understand
The journey to the far Laconian shore;
Whither to fly and seek his love he plan'd:
And making good escape in dark of night,
Ere the sun crost his true meridian flight
He by Teuthronè struck the southern strand.

3
 
There as it chanct he found that snowy bird
Of Crete, that late made mischief with his queen,
And now along the cliffs with wings unstir'd
Sail'd, and that morn had cross'd the sea between:
Whom as he past he hail'd, and question'd thus,
'O snowy gull, if thou from Tænarus
Be come, say, hast thou there my Psyche seen?'

4
 
The gull replied 'Thy Psyche have I seen;
Walking beside the sea she joy'th to bear
A pyx of dark obsidian's rarest green,
Wherein she gazeth on her features fair.
She is not hence by now six miles at most.'
Then Eros bade him speed, and down the coast
Held on his passage through the buoyant air.

5
 
With eager eye he search'd the salty marge,
Boding all mischief from his mother's glee;
And wondering of her wiles, and what the charge
Shut in the dark obsidian pyx might be.
And lo! at last, outstretch'd beside the rocks,
Psyche as lifeless; and the open box
Laid with the weedy refuse of the sea.

6
 
He guess'd all, flew down, and beside her knelt,
With both his hands stroking her temples wan;
And for the poison with his fingers felt,
And drew it gently from her; and anon
She slowly from those Stygian fumes was freed;
Which he with magic handling and good heed
Replaced in pyx, and shut the lid thereon.

7
 
'O Psyche,' thus, and kissing her he cried,
'O simple-hearted Psyche, once again
Hast thou thy foolish longing gratified,
A second time hath prying been thy bane.
But lo! I, love, am come, for I am thine:
Nor ever more shall any fate malign,
Or spite of goddess smite our love in twain.

8
 
'Let now that I have saved thee twice outweigh
The once that I deserted thee: and thou
Hast much obey'd for once to disobey,
And wilt no more my bidding disallow.
Take up thy pyx; to Aphrodite go,
And claim the promise of thy mighty foe;
Maybe that she will grant it to thee now.

9
 
'If she should yet refuse, despair not yet!'
Then Psyche, when she felt his arms restore
Their old embrace, and as their bodies met,
Knew the great joy that grief is pardon'd for;
And how it doth first ecstasy excel,
When love well-known, long-lost, and mournèd well
In long days of no hope, comes home once more.

10
 
But Eros leaping up with purpose keen
Into the air, as only love can fly,
Bore her to heaven, and setting her unseen
At Aphrodite's golden gate,—whereby
They came as night was close on twilight dim,—
There left, and bidding her say nought of him
Went onward to the house of Zeus most high.

11
 
Where winning audience of the heavenly sire,
Who well disposed to him was used to be,
He told the story of his strong desire;
And boldly begg'd that Zeus would grant his plea
That he might have sweet Psyche for his wife,
And she be dower'd with immortal life,
Since she was worthy, by his firm decree.

12
 
And great Zeus smiled; and at the smile of Zeus
All heaven was glad, and on the earth below
Was calm and peace awhile and sorrow's truce:
The sun shone forth and smote the winter snow,
The flowërs sprang, the birds gan sing and pair,
And mortals, as they drew the brighten'd air,
Marvel'd, and quite forgot their common woe.

13
 
Yet gave the Thunderer not his full consent
Without some words: 'At length is come the day,'
Thus spake he, 'when for all thy youth misspent,
Thy mischief-making and thy wanton play
Thou art upgrown to taste the sweet and sour:
Good shall it work upon thee: from this hour
Look we for better things. And this I say,

14
 
'That since thy birth, which all we took for bliss,
Thou hast but mock'd us; and no less on me
Hast brought disfavour and contempt, ywiss,
Than others that have had to do with thee:
Till only such as vow'd themselves aloof
From thee and thine were held in good approof;
And few there were, who thus of shame went free.

15
 
'That punishment is shapen as reward
Is like thy fortune: but our good estate
We honour, while we sit to be adored:
And thus 'twas written in the book of Fate.
Not for thy pleasure, but the general weal
Grant I the grace for which thou here dost kneel;
And that which I determine shall not wait.'

16
 
So wingèd Hermes through the heaven he sped,
To warn the high celestials to his hall,
Where they should Psyche see with Eros wed,
And keep the day with feast ambrosial.
And Hermes, flying through the skiey ways
Of high Olympus, spread sweet Psyche's praise,
And bade the mighty gods obey his call.

17
 
Then all the Kronian gods and goddesses
Assembl'd at his cry,—and now 'twas known
Why Zeus had smiled,—the lesser majesties
Attending them before his royal throne.
Athena, mistress good of them that know,
Came, and Apollo, warder off of woe,
Who had to Psyche's sire her fate foreshown;

18
 
Demeter, giver of the golden corn,
Fair Hebe, honour'd at her Attic shrine,
And Artemis with hunting spear and horn,
And Dionysos, planter of the vine,
With old Poseidon from the barren sea,
And Leto, and the lame Hephæstos, he
Himself who built those halls with skill divine.

19
 
And ruddy Pan with many a quip and quirk
Air'd 'mong those lofty gods his mirth illbred,
Bearing a mighty bowl of cretan work:
Stern Arês, with his crisp hair helmeted,
Came, and retirèd Hestia, and the god
Hermes, with wingèd cap and ribbon'd rod,
By whom the company was heralded.

20
 
And Hera sat by Zeus, and all around
The Muses, that of learning make their choice;
Who, when Apollo struck his strings to sound,
Sang in alternate music with sweet voice:
And righteous Themis, and the Graces three
Ushering the anger'd Aphrodite; she
Alone of all were there might not rejoice

21
 
But ere they sat to feast, Zeus bade them fill
The cup ambrosial of immortal life,
And said 'If Psyche drink,—and 'tis my will,—
There is an end of this unhappy strife.
Nor can the goddess, whose mislike had birth
From too great honour paid the bride on earth,
Forbid her any more for Eros' wife.'

22
 
Then Aphrodite said 'So let it be.'
And Psyche was brought in, with such a flush
Of joy upon her face, as there to see
Was fairer to love's eye than beauty's blush.
And then she drank the eternal wine, whose draught
Can Terror cease: which flesh hath never quafft,
Nor doth it flow from grape that mortals crush.

23
 
And next stood Eros forth, and took her hand,
And kisst her happy face before them all:
And Zeus proclaim'd them married, and outban'd
From heaven whoever should that word miscall.
And then all sat to feast, and one by one
Pledged Psyche ere they drank and cried Well done!
And merry laughter rang throughout the hall.

24
 
So thus was Eros unto Psyche wed,
The heavenly bridegroom to his earthly bride,
Who won his love, in simple maidenhead:
And by her love herself she glorified,
And him from wanton wildness disinclined;
Since in his love for her he came to find
A joy unknown through all Olympus wide.

25
 
And Psyche for her fall was quite forgiven,
Since 'gainst herself when tempted to rebel,
By others' malice on her ruin driven,
Only of sweet simplicity she fell:—
Wherein who fall may fall unto the skies;—
And being foolish she was yet most wise,
And took her trials patiently and well.

26
 
And Aphrodite since her full defeat
Is kinder and less jealous than before,
And smiling on them both, calls Psyche sweet;
But thinks her son less manly than of yore:
Though still she holds his arm of some renown,
When he goes smiting mortals up and down,
Piercing their marrow with his weapons sore.

27
 
So now in steadfast love and happy state
They hold for aye their mansion in the sky,
And send down heavenly peace on those who mate,
In virgin love, to find their joy thereby:
Whom gently Eros shooteth, and apart
Keepeth for them from all his sheaf that dart
Which Psyche in his chamber pickt to try.

28
 
Now in that same month Psyche bare a child,
Who straight in heaven was named Hedonè
In mortal tongues by other letters styled;
Whom all to love, however named, agree:
Whom in our noble English JOY we call,
And honour them among us most of all,
Whose happy children are as fair as she.

29
 
ENVOY
 
IT IS MY PRAYER THAT SHE MAY SMILE ON ALL
WHO READ MY TALE AS SHE HATH SMILED ON ME.