CHORUS.
Song.Lo where the virgin veilëd in airy beams,All-holy Morn, in splendor awakening,Heav'n's gate hath unbarrèd, the goldenAerial lattices set open.With music endeth night's prisoning terror,660With flow'ry incense: Haste to salute the sun,That for the day's chase, like a huntsman,With flashing arms cometh o'er the mountain.{72}Inter se.That were a song for Artemis—I have heardMen thus salute the rising sun in spring——See, we have wreaths enough and garlands plentyTo hide our lov'd Persephone from sightIf she should come.—But think you she will come?—If one might trust the heavens, it is a mornPromising happiness—'Tis like the day670That brought us all our grief a year ago.—ODE.O that the earth, or only this fair isle wer' oursAmid the ocean's blue billows,With flow'ry woodland, stately mountain and valley,Cascading and lilied river;Nor ever a mortal envious, laborious,By anguish or dull care opprest,Should come polluting with remorseful countenanceOur haunt of easy gaiety.For us the grassy slopes, the country's airiness,680The lofty whispering forest,Where rapturously Philomel invoketh the nightAnd million eager throats the morn;With doves at evening softly cooing, and mellowCadences of the dewy thrush.We love the gentle deer, the nimble antelope;Mice love we and springing squirrels;To watch the gaudy flies visit the blooms, to hearOn ev'ry mead the grasshopper.All thro' the spring-tide, thro' the indolent summer,690(If only this fair isle wer' ours)Here might we dwell, forgetful of the weedy cavesBeneath the ocean's blue billows.Enter Demeter.Ch.Hail, mighty Mother!—Welcome, great Demeter!—(1) This day bring joy to thee, and peace to man!{73}Dem.I welcome you, my loving true allies,And thank you, who for me your gentle tempersHave stiffen'd in rebellion, and so longHarass'd the foe. Here on this field of flowersI have bid you share my victory or defeat.700For Hermes hath this day command from ZeusTo lead our lost Persephone from Hell,Hither whence she was stolen.—And yet, alas!Tho' Zeus is won, some secret power thwarts me;All is not won: a cloud is o'er my spirit.Wherefore not yet I boast, nor will rejoiceTill mine eyes see her, and my arms enfold her,And breast to breast we meet in fond embrace.Ch.Well hast thou fought, great goddess, so to wrestZeus from his word. We thank thee, call'd to share710Thy triumph, and rejoice. Yet O, we pray,Make thou this day a day of peace for man!Even if Persephone be not restored,Whether Aidoneus hold her or release,Relent thou.—Stay thine anger, mighty goddess;Nor with thy hateful famine slay mankind.Dem.Say not that word 'relent' lest Hades hear!Ch.Consider rather if mankind should hear.Dem.Do ye love man?Ch.We have seen his sorrows, Lady ...Dem.And what can ye have seen that I know not?—His sorrow?—Ah my sorrow!—and ye bid721Me to relent; whose deeds of fond compassionHave in this year of agony built upA story for all time that shall go wand'ringFurther than I have wander'd;—whereto all earsShall hearken ever, as ye will hearken now.Ch.Happy are we, who first shall hear the taleFrom thine own lips, and tell it to the sea.Dem.Attend then while I tell.——Parting from Hermes hence, anger'd at heart,730{74}Self-exiled from the heav'ns, forgone, alone,My anguish fasten'd on me, as I wentWandering an alien in the haunts of men.To screen my woe I put my godhead off,Taking the likeness of a worthy dame,A woman of the people well in years;Till going unobserv'd, it irked me soonTo be unoccupy'd save by my grief,While men might find distraction for their sorrowsIn useful toil. Then, of my pity rather740Than hope to find their simple cure my own,I took resolve to share and serve their needs,And be as one of them.Ch.Ah, mighty goddess,Coudst thou so put thy dignities away,And suffer the familiar brunt of men?Dem.In all things even as they.—And sitting downOne evening at Eleusis, by the wellUnder an olive-tree, likening myselfOutwardly to some kindly-hearted matron,Whose wisdom and experience are of worth750Either where childhood clamorously speaksThe engrossing charge of Aphrodite's gifts,Or merry maidens in wide-echoing hallsWant sober governance;—to me, as thereI sat, the daughters of King Keleos came,Tall noble damsels, as kings' daughters are,And, marking me a stranger, they drew from meA tale told so engagingly, that theyGrew fain to find employment for my skill;—As men devise in mutual recompense,760Hoping the main advantage for themselves;—And so they bad me follow, and I enter'dThe palace of King Keleos, and receivedThere on my knees the youngest of the house,A babe, to nurse him as a mother would:{75}And in that menial service I was proudTo outrun duty and trust: and there I liv'dDisguised among the maidens many months.Ch.Often as have our guesses aim'd, dear Lady,Where thou didst hide thyself, oft as we wonder'd770What chosen work was thine, none ever thoughtThat thou didst deign to tend a mortal babe.Dem.What life I led shall be for men to tell.But for this babe, the nursling of my sorrow,Whose peevish cry was my consoling care,How much I came to love him ye shall hear.Ch.What was he named, Lady?Dem.Demophoön.Yea, ye shall hear how much I came to love him.For in his small epitome I readThe trouble of mankind; in him I saw780The hero's helplessness, the countless perilsIn ambush of life's promise, the desireBlind and instinctive, and the will perverse.His petty needs were man's necessities;In him I nurst all mortal natur', embrac'dWith whole affection to my breast, and lull'dWailing humanity upon my knee.Ch.We see thou wilt not now destroy mankind.Dem.What I coud do to save man was my thought.And, since my love was center'd in the boy,790My thought was first for him, to rescue him;That, thro' my providence, he ne'er should knowSuffering, nor disease, nor fear of death.Therefore I fed him on immortal food,And should have gain'd my wish, so well he throve,But by ill-chance it hapt, once, as I held himBathed in the fire at midnight (as was my wont),—His mother stole upon us, and ascareAt the strange sight, screaming in loud dismayCompel'd me to unmask, and leave for ever800{76}The halls of Keleos, and my work undone.Ch.'Twas pity that she came!—Didst thou not grieve to loseThe small Demophoön?—Coudst thou not save him?Dem.I had been blinded. Think ye for yourselves ...What vantage were it to mankind at largeThat one should be immortal,—if all besideMust die and suffer misery as before?Ch.Nay, truly. And great envy borne to oneSo favour'd might have more embitter'd all.Dem.I had been foolish. My sojourn with men810Had warpt my mind with mortal tenderness.So, questioning myself what real giftI might bestow on man to help his state,I saw that sorrow was his life-companion,To be embrac't bravely, not weakly shun'd:That as by toil man winneth happiness,Thro' tribulation he must come to peace.How to make sorrow his friend then,—this my task.Here was a mystery ... and how persuadeThis thorny truth?... Ye do not hearken me.820Ch.Yea, honour'd goddess, yea, we hearken still:Stint not thy tale.Dem.Ye might not understand.My tale to you must be a tale of deeds—How first I bade King Keleos build for meA temple in Eleusis, and ordain'dMy worship, and the mysteries of my thought;Where in the sorrow that I underwentMan's state is pattern'd; and in picture shewnThe way of his salvation.... Now with me—Here is a matter grateful to your ears—830Your lov'd Persephone hath equal honour,And in the spring her festival of flowers:And if she should return ...[Listening.Ah! hark! what hear I?{77}Ch.We hear no sound.Dem.Hush ye! Hermes: he comes.Ch.What hearest thou?Dem.Hermes; and not alone.She is there. 'Tis she: I have won.Ch.Where? where?Dem.(aside). Ah! can it be that out of sorrow's night,From tears, from yearning pain, from long despair,Into joy's sunlight I shall come again?—Aside! stand ye aside!840Enter Hermes leading Persephone.Her.Mighty Demeter, lo! I executeThe will of Zeus and here restore thy daughter.Dem.I have won.Per.Sweet Mother, thy embrace is as the welcomeOf all the earth, thy kiss the breath of life.Dem.Ah! but to me, Cora! Thy voice again...My tongue is trammel'd with excess of joy.Per.Arise, my nymphs, my Oceanides!My Nereids all, arise! and welcome me!Put off your strange solemnity! arise!850Ch.Welcome! all welcome, fair Persephone!(1) We came to welcome thee, but fell abash'dSeeing thy purple robe and crystal crown.Per.Arise and serve my pleasure as of yore.Dem.And thou too doff thy strange solemnity,That all may see thee as thou art, my Cora,Restor'd and ever mine. Put off thy crown!Per.Awhile! dear Mother—what thou say'st is true;I am restor'd to thee, and evermoreShall be restor'd. Yet am I none the less860Evermore Queen of Hades: and 'tis meetI wear the crown, the symbol of my reign.Dem.What words are these, my Cora! EvermoreRestor'd to me thou say'st ... 'tis well—but then{78}Evermore Queen of Hades ... what is this?I had a dark foreboding till I saw thee:Alas, alas! it lives again: destroy it!Solve me this riddle quickly, if thou mayest.Per.Let Hermes speak, nor fear thou. All is well.Her.Divine Demeter, thou hast won thy will,870And the command of Zeus have I obey'd.Thy daughter is restor'd, and evermoreShall be restor'd to thee as on this day.But Hades holding to his bride, the FatesWere kind also to him, that she should beHis queen in Hades as thy child on earth.Yearly, as spring-tide cometh, she is thineWhile flowers bloom and all the land is gay;But when thy corn is gather'd, and the fieldsAre bare, and earth withdraws her budding life880From the sharp bite of winter's angry fang,Yearly will she return and hold her throneWith great Aidoneus and the living dead:And she hath eaten with him of such fruitAs holds her his true bride for evermore.Dem.Alas! alas!Per.Rejoice, dear Mother. Let not vain lamentTrouble our joy this day, nor idle tears.Dem.Alas! from my own deed my trouble comes:He gave thee of the fruit which I had curs'd:890I made the poison that enchanted thee.Per.Repent not in thy triumph, but rejoice,Who hast thy will in all, as I have mine.Dem.I have but half my will, how hast thou more?Per.It was my childish fancy (thou rememb'rest),I would be goddess of the flowers: I thoughtThat men should innocently honour meWith bloodless sacrifice and spring-tide joy.Now Fate, that look'd contrary, hath fulfill'dMy project with mysterious efficacy:900{79}And as a plant that yearly dieth downWhen summer is o'er, and hideth in the earth,Nor showeth promise in its wither'd leavesThat it shall reawaken and put forthIts blossoms any more to deck the spring;So I, the mutual symbol of my choice,Shall die with winter, and with spring revive.How without winter coud I have my spring?How come to resurrection without death?Lo thus our joyful meeting of to-day,910Born of our separation, shall renewIts annual ecstasy, by grief refresht:And no more pall than doth the joy of springYearly returning to the hearts of men.See then the accomplishment of all my hope:Rejoice, and think not to put off my crown.Dem.What hast thou seen below to reconcile theeTo the dark moiety of thy strange fate?Per.Where have I been, mother? what have I seen?The downward pathway to the gates of death:920The skeleton of earthly being, striptOf all disguise: the sudden void of night:The spectral records of unwholesome fear:—Why was it given to me to see these things?The ruin'd godheads, disesteem'd, condemn'dTo toil of deathless mockery: conquerorsIn the reverse of glory, doom'd to ruleThe multitudinous army of their crimes:The naked retribution of all wrong:—Why was it given to me to see such things?930Dem.Not without terror, as I think, thou speakest,Nor as one reconcil'd to brook return.Per.But since I have seen these things, with salt and fireMy spirit is purged, and by this crystal crownTerror is tamed within me. If my wordsSeem'd to be tinged with terror, 'twas because{80}I knew one hour of terror (on the dayThat took me hence) and with that memoryColour'd my speech, using the terms which paintThe blindfold fears of men, who little reckon940How they by holy innocence and love,By reverence and gentle lives may winA title to the fair Elysian fields,Where the good spirits dwell in ease and lightAnd entertainment of those fair desiresThat made earth beautiful ... brave souls that spentTheir lives for liberty and truth, grave seersWhose vision conquer'd darkness, pious poetsWhose words have won Apollo's deathless praise,Who all escape Hell's mysteries, nor come nigh950The Cave of Cacophysia.Dem.Mysteries!What mysteries are these? and what the Cave?Per.The mysteries of evil, and the caveOf blackness that obscures them. Even in hellThe worst is hidden, and unfructuous nightStifles her essence in her truthless heart.Dem.What is the arch-falsity? I seek to knowThe mystery of evil. Hast thou seen it?Per.I have seen it. Coud I truly rule my kingdomNot having seen it?Dem.Tell me what it is.960Per.'Tis not that I forget it; tho' the thoughtIs banisht from me. But 'tis like a dreamWhose sense is an impression lacking words.Dem.If it would pain thee telling ...Per.Nay, but surelyThe words of gods and men are names of thingsAnd thoughts accustom'd: but of things unknownAnd unimagin'd are no words at all.Dem.And yet will words sometimes outrun the thought.Per.What can be spoken is nothing: 'twere a path{81}That leading t'ward some prospect ne'er arrived.970Dem.The more thou holdest back, the more I long.Per.The outward aspect only mocks my words.Dem.Yet what is outward easy is to tell.Per.Something is possible. This cavern liesIn very midmost of deep-hollow'd hell.O'er its torn mouth the black Plutonic rockIs split in sharp disorder'd pinnaclesAnd broken ledges, whereon sit, like apesUpon a wither'd tree, the hideous sinsOf all the world: once having seen within980The magnetism is heavy on them, and they crawlPalsied with filthy thought upon the peaks;Or, squatting thro' long ages, have becomeRooted like plants into the griping clefts:And there they pullulate, and moan, and strewThe rock with fragments of their mildew'd growth.Dem.Cora, my child! and hast thou seen these things!Per.Nay but the outward aspect, figur'd thusIn mere material loathsomeness, is noughtBeside the mystery that is hid within.990Dem.Search thou for words, I pray, somewhat to tell.Per.Are there not matters past the thought of menOr gods to know?Dem.Thou meanest wherefore thingsShould be at all? Or, if they be, why thus,As hot, cold, hard and soft: and wherefore ZeusHad but two brothers; why the stars of heavenAre so innumerable, constellatedJust as they are; or why this SicilyShould be three-corner'd? Yes, thou sayest well,Why things are as they are, nor gods nor men1000Can know. We say that Fate appointed thus,And are content.—Per.Suppose, dear Mother, there wer' a temple in heaven,{82}Which, dedicated to the unknown CauseAnd worship of the unseen, had power to drawAll that was worthy and good within its gate:And that the spirits who enter'd there becameNot only purified and comforted,But that the mysteries of the shrine were such,That the initiated bathed in light1010Of infinite intelligence, and sawThe meaning and the reason of all things,All at a glance distinctly, and perceivedThe origin of all things to be good,And the énd good, and that what appears as evilIs as a film of dust, that faln thereon,May,—at one stroke of the hand,—Be brush'd away, and show the good beneath,Solid and fair and shining: If moreoverThis blessëd vision were of so great power1020That none coud e'er forget it or relapseTo doubtful ignorance:—I say, dear Mother,Suppose that there were such a temple in heaven.Dem.O child, my child! that were a temple indeed.'Tis such a temple as man needs on earth;A holy shrine that makes no pact with sin,A worthy shrine to draw the worthy and good,A shrine of wisdom trifling not with folly,A shrine of beauty, where the initiatedDrank love and light.... Strange thou shouldst speak of it.I have inaugurated such a temple1031These last days in Eleusis, have ordain'dThese very mysteries!—Strange thou speakest of it.But by what path return we to the CaveOf Cacophysia?Per.By this path, dear Mother.The Cave of Cacophysia is in all thingsT'ward evil, as that temple were t'ward good.I enter'd in. Outside the darkness was{83}But as accumulated sunlessness;Within 'twas positive as light itself,1040A blackness that extinguished: Yet I knew,For Hades told me, that I was to see;And so I waited, till a forking flashOf sudden lightning dazzlingly reveal'dAll at a glance. As on a pitchy nightThe warder of some high acropolisLooks down into the dark, and suddenlySees all the city with its roofs and streets,Houses and walls, clear as in summer noon,And ere he think of it, 'tis dark again,—1050So I saw all within the Cave, and heldThe vision, 'twas so burnt upon my sense.Dem.What saw'st thou, child? what saw'st thou?Per.Nay, the thingsNot to be told, because there are no wordsOf gods or men to paint the inscrutableAnd full initiation of hell.—I sawThe meaning and the reason of all things,All at a glance, and in that glance perceiv'dThe origin of all things to be evil,And the énd evil: that what seems as good1060Is as a bloom of gold that spread thereo'erMay, by one stroke of the hand,Be brush'd away, and leave the ill beneathSolid and foul and black....Dem.Now tell me, child,If Hades love thee, that he sent thee thither.Per.He said it coud not harm me: and I thinkIt hath not.[Going up to Demeter, who kisses her.Dem.Nay it hath not, ... and I knowThe power of evil is no power at allAgainst eternal good. 'Tis fire on water,As darkness against sunlight, like a dream1070To waken'd will. Foolish was I to fear{84}That aught coud hurt thee, Cora. But to-daySpeak we no more.... This mystery of HellWill do me service: I'll not tell thee now:But sure it is that Fate o'erruleth allFor good or ill: and we (no more than men)Have power to oppose, nor any will nor choiceBeyond such wisdom as a fisher hathWho driven by sudden gale far out to seaHandles his fragile boat safe thro' the waves,1080Making what harbour the wild storm allows.To-day hard-featured and inscrutable FateStands to mine eyes reveal'd, nor frowns upon me.I thought to find thee as I knew thee, and fear'dOnly to find thee sorrowful: I find theeFar other than thou wert, nor hurt by Hell.I thought I must console thee, but 'tis thouPlayest the comforter: I thought to teach thee,And had prepared my lesson, word by word;But thou art still beyond me. One thing only1090Of all my predetermin'd plan endures:My purpose was to bid thee to EleusisFor thy spring festival, which three days henceInaugurates my temple. Thou wilt come?Per.I come. And art thou reconcil'd, dear Mother?Dem.Joy and surprise make tempest in my mind;When their bright stir is o'er, there will be peace.But ere we leave this flowery field, the sceneOf strange and beauteous memories evermore,I thank thee, Hermes, for thy willing service.1100Per.I thank thee, son of Maia, and bid farewell.Her.Have thy joy now, great Mother; and have thou joy,Fairest Persephone, Queen of the Spring.{85}
CHORUS.
Fair Persephone, garlands we bring thee,Flow'rs and spring-tide welcome sing thee.Hades held thee not,Darkness quell'd thee not.Gay and joyful welcome!Welcome, Queen, evermore.Earth shall own thee,1110Thy nymphs crown thee,Garland thee and crown thee,Crown thee Queen evermore.
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The story done into englishfrom the latinofapuleius
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SPRING
PSYCHE'S EARTHLY PARENTAGE · WORSHIPPED BYMEN · & PERSECUTED BY APHRODITE · SHE ISLOVED & CARRIED OFF BY EROS
MARCH
1In midmost length of hundred-citied Crete,The land that cradl'd Zeus, of old renown,Where grave Demeter nurseried her wheat,And Minos fashion'd law, ere he went downTo judge the quaking hordes of Hell's domain,There dwelt a King on the Omphalian plainEastward of Ida, in a little town.
2Three daughters had this King, of whom my taleTime hath preserved, that loveth to despiseThe wealth which men misdeem of much avail,Their glories for themselves that they devise;For clerkly is he, old hard-featured Time,And poets' fabl'd song and lovers' rhymeHe storeth on his shelves to please his eyes.
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3These three princesses all were fairest fair;And of the elder twain 'tis truth to sayThat if they stood not high above compare,Yet in their prime they bore the palm away;Outwards of loveliness; but Nature's mood,Gracious to make, had grudgingly enduedAnd marr'd by gifting ill the beauteous clay.
4And being in honour they were well contentTo feed on lovers' looks and courtly smiles,To hang their necks with jewel'd ornament,And gold, that vanity in vain beguiles,And live in gaze, and take their praise for due,To be the fairest maidens then to viewWithin the shores of Greece and all her isles.
5But of that youngest one, the third princess,There is no likeness; since she was as farFrom pictured beauty as is ugliness,Though on the side where heavenly wonders are,Ideals out of being and above,Which music worshippeth, but if love love,'Tis, as the poet saith, to love a star.
6Her vision rather drave from passion's heartWhat earthly soil it had afore possest;Since to man's purer unsubstantial partThe brightness of her presence was addrest:And such as mock'd at God, when once they sawHer heavenly glance, were humbl'd, and in aweOf things unseen, return'd to praise the Best.
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7And so before her, wheresoe'er she went,Hushing the crowd a thrilling whisper ran,And silent heads were reverently bent;Till from the people the belief beganThat Love's own mother had come down on earth,Sweet Cytherea, or of mortal birthA greater Goddess was vouchsaf't to man.
8Then Aphrodite's statue in its placeStood without worshippers; if Cretans pray'dFor beauty or for children, love or grace,The prayer and vow were offer'd to the maid;Unto the maid their hymns of praise were sung,Their victims bled for her, for her they hungGarland and golden gift, and none forbade.
9And thence opinion spread beyond the shores,From isle to isle the wonder flew, it cameAcross the Ægæan on a thousand oars,Athens and Smyrna caught the virgin's fame;And East or West, where'er the tale had been,The adoration of the foam-born queenFell to neglect, and men forgot her name.
10No longer to high Paphos now 'twas sail'd;The fragrant altar by the Graces servedAt Cnidus was forsaken; pilgrims fail'dThe rocky island to her name reserved,Proud Ephyra, and Meropis renown'd;'Twas all for Crete her votaries were bound,And to the Cretan maid her worship swerved.
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11Which when in heaven great Aphrodite saw,Who is the breather of the year's bright morn,Fount of desire and beauty without flaw,Herself the life that doth the world adorn;Seeing that without her generative mightNothing can spring upon the shores of light,Nor any bud of joy or love be born;
12She, when she saw the insult, did not hideHer indignation, that a mortal frailWith her eterne divinity had vied,Her fair Hellenic empire to assail,For which she had fled the doom of Ninus old,And left her wanton images unsoul'dIn Babylon and Zidon soon to fail.
13'Not long,' she cried, 'shall that poor girl of CreteGod it in my despite; for I will bringSuch mischief on the sickly counterfeitAs soon shall cure her tribe of worshipping:Her beauty will I mock with loathèd lust,Bow down her dainty spirit to the dust,And leave her long alive to feel the sting.'
14With that she calls to her her comely boy,The limber scion of the God of War,The fruit adulterous, which for man's annoyTo that fierce partner Cytherea bore,Eros, the ever young, who only grewIn mischief, and was Cupid named anewIn westering aftertime of latin lore.
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15What the first dawn of manhood is, the hourWhen beauty, from its fleshy bud unpent,Flaunts like the corol of a summer flower,As if all life were for that ornament,Such Eros seemed in years, a trifler gay,The prodigal of an immortal dayFor ever spending, and yet never spent.
16His skin is brilliant with the nimble floodOf ichor, that comes dancing from his heart,Lively as fire, and redder than the blood,And maketh in his eyes small flashes dart,And curleth his hair golden, and distillethHoney on his tongue, and all his body fillethWith wanton lightsomeness in every part.
17Naked he goeth, but with sprightly wingsRed, iridescent, are his shoulders fledged.A bow his weapon, which he deftly strings,And little arrows barb'd and keenly edged;And these he shooteth true; but else the youthFor all his seeming recketh naught of truth,But most deceiveth where he most is pledged.
18'Tis he that maketh in men's heart a strifeBetween remorseful reason and desire,Till with life lost they lose the love of life,And by their own hands wretchedly expire;Or slain in bloody rivalries they missEven the short embracement of their bliss,His smile of fury and his kiss of fire.
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19He makes the strong man weak, the weak man wild;Ruins great business and purpose high;Brings down the wise to folly reconciled,And martial captains on their knees to sigh:He changeth dynasties, and on the headOf duteous heroes, who for honour bled,Smircheth the laurel that can never die.
20Him then she call'd, and gravely kissing toldThe great dishonour to her godhead done;And how, if he from that in heaven would hold,On earth he must maintain it as her son;The rather that his weapons were most fit,As was his skill ordain'd to champion it;And flattering thus his ready zeal she won.
21Whereon she quickly led him down on earth,And show'd him PSYCHE, thus the maid was named;Whom when she show'd, but coud not hide her worth,She grew with envy tenfold more enflamed.'But if,' she cried, 'thou smite her as I bid,Soon shall our glory of this affront be rid,And she and all her likes for ever shamed.
22'Make her to love the loathliest, basest wretch,Deform'd in body, and of moonstruck mind,A hideous brute and vicious, born to fetchAnger from dogs and cursing from the blind.And let her passion for the monster beAs shameless and detestable as heIs most extreme and vile of humankind.'
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23Which said, when he agreed, she spake no more,But left him to his task, and took her wayBeside the ripples of the shell-strewn shore,The southward stretching margin of a bay,Whose sandy curves she pass'd, and taking standUpon its taper horn of furthest land,Lookt left and right to rise and set of day.
24Fair was the sight; for now, though full an hourThe sun had sunk, she saw the evening lightIn shifting colour to the zenith tower,And grow more gorgeous ever and more bright.Bathed in the warm and comfortable glow,The fair delighted queen forgot her woe,And watch'd the unwonted pageant of the night.
25Broad and low down, where late the sun had beenA wealth of orange-gold was thickly shed,Fading above into a field of green,Like apples ere they ripen into red;Then to the height a variable hueOf rose and pink and crimson freak'd with blue,And olive-border'd clouds o'er lilac led.
26High in the opposèd west the wondering moonAll silvery green in flying green was fleec't;And round the blazing South the splendour soonCaught all the heaven, and ran to North and East;And Aphrodite knew the thing was wroughtBy cunning of Poseidon, and she thoughtShe would go see with whom he kept his feast.
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27Swift to her wish came swimming on the wavesHis lovely ocean nymphs, her guides to be,The Nereids all, who live among the cavesAnd valleys of the deep, Cymodocè,Agavè, blue-eyed Hallia and Nesæa,Speio, and Thoë, Glaucè and Actæa,Iaira, Melitè and Amphinomè,
28Apseudès and Nemertès, Callianassa,Cymothoë, Thaleia, Limnorrhea,Clymenè, Ianeira and Ianassa,Doris and Panopè and Galatea,Dynamenè, Dexamenè and Maira,Ferusa, Doto, Proto, Callianeira,Amphithoë, Oreithuia and Amathea.
29And after them sad Melicertes draveHis chariot, that with swift unfellied wheel,By his two dolphins drawn along the wave,Flew as they plunged, yet did not dip nor reel,But like a plough that shears the heavy landStood on the flood, and back on either handO'erturn'd the briny furrow with its keel.
30Behind came Tritons, that their conches blew,Greenbearded, tail'd like fish, all sleek and stark;And hippocampi tamed, a bristly crew,The browzers of old Proteus' weedy park,Whose chiefer Mermen brought a shell for boat,And balancing its hollow fan afloat,Push'd it to shore and bade the queen embark:
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31And then the goddess stept upon the shellWhich took her weight; and others threw a trainOf soft silk o'er her, that unfurl'd to swellIn sails, at breath of flying Zephyrs twain;And all her way with foam in laughter strewn,With stir of music and of conches blown,Was Aphrodite launch'd upon the main.
APRIL
1But fairest Psyche still in favour rose,Nor knew the jealous power against her sworn;And more her beauty now surpass't her foe's,Since 'twas transfigured by the spirit forlorn,That writeth, to the perfecting of grace,Immortal question in a mortal face,The vague desire whereunto man is born.
2Already in good time her sisters both,Whose honest charms were never famed as hers,With princes of the isle had plighted troth,And gone to rule their foreign courtiers;But she, exalted evermore beyondTheir loveliness, made yet no lover fond,And gain'd but number to her worshippers.
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3To joy in others' joy had been her lot,And now that that was gone she wept to seeHow her transcendent beauty overshotThe common aim of all felicity.For love she sigh'd; and had some peasant rudeFor true love's sake in simple passion woo'd,Then Psyche had not scorn'd his wife to be.
4For what is Beauty, if it doth not fireThe loving answer of an eager soul?Since 'tis the native food of man's desire,And doth to good our varying world control;Which, when it was not, was for Beauty's sakeDesired and made by Love, who still doth makeA beauteous path thereon to Beauty's goal.
5Should all men by some hateful venom die,The pity were that o'er the unpeopl'd sphereThe sun would still bedeck the evening skyAnd the unimaginable hues appear,With none to mark the rose and gold and green;That Spring should walk the earth, and nothing seenOf her fresh delicacy year by year.
6And if some beauteous things,—whose heavenly worthAnd function overpass our mortal sense,—Lie waste and unregarded on the earthBy reason of our gross intelligence,These are not vain, because in nature's schemeIt lives that we shall grow from dream to dreamIn time to gather an enchantment thence.
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7Even as we see the fairest works of menAwhile neglected, and the makers die;But Truth comes weeping to their graves, and thenTheir fames victoriously mounting highDo battle with the regnant names of eld,To win their seats; as when the Gods rebel'dAgainst their sires and drave them from the sky.
8But to be praised for beauty and deniedThe meed of beauty, this was yet unknown:The best and bravest men have ever viedTo win the fairest women for their own.Thus Psyche spake, or reason'd in her mind,Disconsolate; and with self-pity pined,In the deserted halls wandering alone.
9And grievèd grew the King to see her woe:And blaming first the gods for her disease,He purposed to their oracle to goTo question how he might their wrath appease,Or, if that might not be, the worst to hear,—Which is the last poor hope of them that fear.—So he took his ship upon the northern seas,
10And journeying to the shrine of Delphi went,The temple of Apollo Pythian,Where when the god he question'd if 'twas meantThat Psyche should be wed, and to what man,The tripod shook, and o'er the vaporous wellThe chanting Pythoness gave oracle,And thus in priestly verse the sentence ran:
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11High on the topmost rock with funeral feastConvey and leave the maid, nor look to findA mortal husband, but a savage beast,The viperous scourge of gods and humankind;Who shames and vexes all, and as he fliesWith sword and fire, Zeus trembles in the skies,And groans arise from souls to hell consigned.
12With which reply the King return'd full sad:For though he nothing more might understand,Yet in the bitter bidding that he hadNo man made question of the plain command,That he must sacrifice the tender flowerOf his own blood to a demonian power,Upon the rocky mount with his own hand.
13Some said that she to Talos was devote,The metal giant, who with mile-long strideCover'd the isle, walking around by roteThrice every day at his appointed tide;Who shepherded the sea-goats on the coast,And, as he past, caught up and live would roast,Pressing them to his burning ribs and side:
14Whose head was made of fine gold-beaten workOf silver pure his arms and gleaming chest,Thence of green-bloomèd bronze far as the fork,Of iron weather-rusted all the rest.One single vein he had, which running downFrom head to foot was open in his crown,And closèd by a nail; such was this pest.
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15A little while they spent in sad delay,Then order'd, as the oracle had said,The cold feast and funereal displayWherewith the fated bridal should be sped:And their black pageantry and vain despairingWhen Psyche saw, and for herself preparingThe hopeless ceremonial of the dead,
16Then spake she to the King and said 'O Sire,Why wilt thou veil those venerable eyesWith piteous tears, which must of me requireMore tears again than for myself arise?Then, on the day my beauty first o'ersteptIts mortal place it had been well to have wept;But now the fault beyond our ruing lies.
17'As to be worship'd was my whole undoing,So my submission must the forfeit pay:And welcome were the morning of my wooing,Tho' after it should dawn no other day.Up to the mountain! for I hear the voiceOf my belovèd on the winds,Rejoice,Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'
18With such distemper'd speech, that little cheer'dHer mourning house, she went to choose with careThe raiment for her day of wedlock weird,Her body as for burial to prepare;But laved with bridal water, from the streamWhere Hera bathed; for still her fate supremeWas doubtful, whether Love or Death it were:
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19Love that is made of joy, and Death of fear:Nay, but not these held Psyche in suspense;Hers was the hope that following by the bierBoweth its head beneath the dark immense:Her fear the dread of life that turns to hideIts tragic tears, what hour the happy brideVentures for love her maiden innocence.
20They set on high upon the bridal wainHer bed for bier, and yet no corpse thereon;But like as when unto a warrior slainAnd not brought home the ceremonies doneAre empty, for afar his body braveLies lost, deep buried by the wandering waveOr 'neath the foes his fury fell upon,—
21So was her hearse: and with it went afore,Singing the solemn dirge that moves to tears,The singers; and behind, clad as for war,The King uncrown'd among his mournful peers,All 'neath their armour robed in linen white;And in their left were shields, and in their rightTorches they bore aloft instead of spears.
22And next the virgin tribe in white forth sail'd,With wreaths of dittany; and 'midst them thereWent Psyche, all in lily-whiteness veil'd,The white Quince-blossom chapleting her hair:And last the common folk, a weeping crowd,Far as the city-gates with wailings loudFollow'd the sad procession in despair.
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23Thus forth and up the mount they went, untilThe funeral chariot must be left behind,Since road was none for steepness of the hill;And slowly by the narrow path they wind:All afternoon their white and scatter'd fileToil'd on distinct, ascending many a mileOver the long brown slopes and crags unkind.
24But ere unto the snowy peak they cameOf that stormshapen pyramid so high,'Twas evening, and with footsteps slow and lameThey gather'd up their lagging company:And then her sire, even as Apollo bade,Set on the topmost rock the hapless maid,With trembling hands and melancholy cry.
25And now the sun was sunk; only the peakFlash'd like a jewel in the deepening blue:And from the shade beneath none dared to speak,But all look'd up, where glorified anewPsyche sat islanded in living day.Breathless they watcht her, till the last red rayFled from her lifted arm that waved adieu.
26There left they her, turning with sad farewellsTo haste their homeward course, as best they might:But night was crowding up the barren fells,And hid full soon their rocky path from sight;And each unto his stumbling foot to holdHis torch was fain, for o'er the moon was roll'dA mighty cloud from heaven, to blot her light.
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27And thro' the darkness for long while was seenThat armour'd train with waving fires to threadDownwards, by pass, defile, and black ravine,Each leading on the way that he was led.Slowly they gain'd the plain, and one by oneInto the shadows of the woods were gone,Or in the clinging mists were quench'd and fled.
28But unto Psyche, pondering o'er her doomIn tearful silence on her stony chair,A Zephyr straying out of heaven's wide roomRush'd down, and gathering round her unawareFill'd with his breath her vesture and her veil;And like a ship, that crowding all her sailLeans to accompany the tranquil air,
29She yielded, and was borne with swimming brainAnd airy joy, along the mountain side,Till, hid from earth by ridging summits twain,They came upon a valley deep and wide;Where the strong Zephyr with his burden sank,And laid her down upon a grassy bank,'Mong thyme and violets and daisies pied.
30And straight upon the touch of that sweet bedBoth woe and wonder melted fast away:And sleep with gentle stress her sense o'erspread,Gathering as darkness doth on drooping day:And nestling to the ground, she slowly drewHer wearied limbs together, and, ere she knew,Wrapt in forgetfulness and slumber lay.
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MAY1After long sleep when Psyche first awokeAmong the grasses 'neath the open skies,And heard the mounting larks, whose carol spokeDelighted invitation to arise,She lay as one who after many a leagueHath slept off memory with his long fatigue,And waking knows not in what place he lies:
2Anon her quickening thought took up its task,And all came back as it had happ'd o'ernight;The sad procession of the wedding mask,The melancholy toiling up the height,The solitary rock where she was left;And thence in dark and airy waftage reft,How on the flowers she had been disburden'd light.
3Thereafter she would rise and see what placeThat voyage had its haven in, and foundShe stood upon a little hill, whose baseShelved off into the valley all around;And all round that the steep cliffs rose away,Save on one side where to the break of dayThe widening dale withdrew in falling ground.
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4There, out from over sea, and scarce so highAs she, the sun above his watery blazeUpbroke the grey dome of the morning sky,And struck the island with his level rays;Sifting his gold thro' lazy mists, that stillClimb'd on the shadowy roots of every hill,And in the tree-tops breathed their silvery haze.
5At hand on either side there was a wood;And on the upward lawn, that sloped between,Not many paces back a temple stood,By even steps ascending from the green;With shaft and pediment of marble made,It fill'd the passage of the rising glade,And there withstay'd the sun in dazzling sheen.
6Too fair for human art, so Psyche thought,It might the fancy of some god rejoice;Like to those halls which lame Hephæstos wrought,Original, for each god to his choice,In high Olympus; where his matchless lyreApollo wakes, and the responsive choirOf Muses sing alternate with sweet voice.
7Wondering she drew anigh, and in a whileWent up the steps as she would entrance win,And faced her shadow 'neath the peristyleUpon the golden gate, whose flanges twin—As there she stood, irresolute at heartTo try—swung to her of themselves apart;Whereat she past between and stood within.
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8A foursquare court it was with marble floor'd,Embay'd about with pillar'd porticoes,That echo'd in a somnolent accordThe music of a fountain, which aroseSparkling in air, and splashing in its tank;Whose wanton babble, as it swell'd or sank,Gave idle voice to silence and repose.
9Thro' doors beneath the further colonnade,Like a deep cup's reflected glooms of gold,The inner rooms glow'd with inviting shade:And, standing in the court, she might beholdCedar, and silk, and silver; and that allThe pargeting of ceiling and of wallWas fresco'd o'er with figures manifold.
10Then making bold to go within, she heardMurmur of gentle welcome in her ear;And seeing none that coud have spoken word,She waited: when againLady, draw near;Enter!was cried; and now more voices cameFrom all the air around calling her name,And bidding her rejoice and have no fear.
11And one, if she would rest, would show her bed,Pillow'd for sleep, with fragrant linen fine;One, were she hungry, had a table spreadLike as the high gods have it when they dine:Or, would she bathe, were those would heat the bath;The joyous cries contending in her path,Psyche, they said,What wilt thou? all is thine.
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12Then Psyche would have thank'd their service true,But that she fear'd her echoing words might scareThose sightless tongues; and well by dream she knewThe voices of the messengers of prayer,Which fly upon the gods' commandment, whenThey answer the supreme desires of men,Or for a while in pity hush their care.
13'Twas fancy's consummation, and becauseShe would do joy no curious despite,She made no wonder how the wonder was;Only concern'd to take her full delight.So to the bath,—what luxury could beBetter enhanced by eyeless ministry?—She follows with the voices that invite.
14There being deliciously refresht, from soilOf earth made pure by water, fire, and air,They clad her in soft robes of Asian toil,Scented, that in her queenly wardrobe were;And led her forth to dine, and all aroundSang as they served, the while a choral soundOf strings unseen and reeds the burden bare.
15P athetic strains and passionate they wove,U rgent in ecstasies of heavenly sense;R esponsive rivalries, that, while they stroveC ombined in full harmonious suspense,E ntrancing wild desire, then fell at lastL ull'd in soft closes, and with gay contrastL aunch'd forth their fresh unwearied excellence.
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16Now Psyche, when her twofold feast was o'er,Would feed her eye; and choosing for her guideA low-voiced singer, bade her come exploreThe wondrous house; until on every sideAs surfeited with beauty, and seeing noughtBut what was rich and fair beyond her thought,And all her own, thus to the voice she cried:
17'Am I indeed a goddess, or is thisBut to be dead: and through the gates of deathPassing unwittingly doth man not missBody nor memory nor living breath;Nor by demerits of his deeds is cast,But, paid with the desire he holdeth fast,Is holp with all his heart imagineth?'
18But her for all reply the wandering tongueCall'd to the chamber where her bed was laidWith flower'd broideries of linen hung:And round the walls in painting were portray'dLove's victories over the gods renown'd.Ares and Aphrodite here lay boundIn the fine net that dark Hephæstus made:
19Here Zeus, in likeness of a tawny bull,Stoop'd on the Cretan shore his mighty knee,While off his back Europa beautifulStept pale against the blue Carpathian sea;And here Apollo, as he caught amazedDaphne, for lo! her hands shot forth upraisedIn leaves, her feet were rooted like a tree:
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20Here Dionysos, springing from his carAt sight of Ariadne; here upleptAdonis to the chase, breaking the barOf Aphrodite's arm for love who wept:He spear in hand, with leashèd dogs at strain;A marvellous work. But Psyche soon grown fainOf rest, betook her to her bed and slept.
21Nor long had slept, when at a sudden stirShe woke; and one, that thro' the dark made way,Drew near, and stood beside; and over herThe curtain rustl'd. Trembling now she lay,Fainting with terror: till upon her faceA kiss, and with two gentle arms' embrace,A voice that call'd her name in loving play.
22Though for the darkness she coud nothing see,She wish'd not then for what the night denied:This was the lover she had lack'd, and she,Loving his loving, was his willing bride.O'erjoy'd she slept again, o'erjoy'd awokeAt break of morn upon her love to look;When lo! his empty place lay by her side.
23So all that day she spent in companyOf the soft voices; andOf right, they said,Art thou our Lady now. Be happilyThy bridal morrow by thy servants sped.But she but long'd for night, if that might bringHer lover back; and he on secret wingCame with the dark, and in the darkness fled.