Tighe, Mary (1772-1810)

Psyche; or, The Legend of Love (1805)

From Psyche, with Other Poems (London, 1811)

TO possess strong feelings and amiable affections, and to express them with a nice discrimination, has been the attribute of many female writers; some of whom have also participated with the author of Psyche in the unhappy lot of a suffering frame and a premature death. Had the publication of her poems served only as the fleeting record of such a destiny, and as a monument of private regret, her friends would not have thought themselves justified in displaying them to the world. But when a writer intimately acquainted with classical literature, and guided by a taste for real excellence, has delivered in polished language such sentiments as can tend only to encourage and improve the best sensations of the human heart, then it becomes a sort of duty in surviving friends no longer to withhold from the public such precious relics.

     The copies of Psyche printed for the author in her lifetime were borrowed with avidity, and read with delight; and the partiality of friends has been already outstripped by the applause of admirers.

     The smaller poems which complete this volume may perhaps stand in need of that indulgence which a posthumous work always demands when it did not receive the correction of the author. They have been selected from a larger number of poems, which were the occasional effusion of her thoughts, or productions of her leisure, but not originally intended or pointed out by herself for publication.

                                                                                                                                        MARTIAL.

======

THE author, who dismisses to the public the darling object of his solitary cares, must be prepared to consider, with some degree of indifference, the various reception it may then meet. But from those, who write only for the more interested eye of friendship, no such indifference can be expected. I may therefore be forgiven the egotism which makes me anxious to recommend to my readers the tale with which I present them, while I endeavour to excuse in it all other defects but that, which I fear cannot be excused, the deficiency of genius.

     In making choice of the beautiful ancient allegory of Love and the Soul, I had some fears lest my subject might be condemned by the frown of severer moralists; however, I hope that if such have the condescension to read through a poem which they may perhaps think too long, they will yet do me the justice to allow, that I have only pictured innocent love, such love as the purest bosom might confess. "Les jeunes femmes, qui ne veulent point paroitre coquettes, ne doivent jamais parler de l'amour comme d'une chose ou elles puissent avoir part," says La Rochefoucault; but I believe it is only the false refinement of the most profligate court which could give birth to such a sentiment, and that love will always be found to have had the strongest influence where the morals have been the purest.

     I much regret that I can have no hope of affording any pleasure to some, whose opinion I highly respect, whom I have heard profess themselves ever disgusted by the veiled form of allegory, and yet

  Are not the choicest fables of the poets,
  Who were the fountains and first springs of wisdom,
  Wrapt in perplexed allegories?

     Although I cannot give up the excellence of my subject, I am yet ready to own that the stanza which I have chosen has many disadvantages, and that it may, perhaps, be as tiresome to the reader as it was difficult to the author. The frequent recurrence of the same rhymes is by no means well adapted to the English language; and I know not whether I have a right to offer as an apology, the restraint which I had imposed upon myself of strictly adhering to the stanza which my partiality for Spenser first inclined me to adopt.

     The loves of Cupid and Psyche have long been a favourite subject for poetical allusion, and are well known as related by Apuleius: to him I am indebted for the outline of my tale in the two first cantos; but even there the model is not closely copied, and I have taken nothing from Moliere, La Fontaine, Du Moustier, or Marino. I have seen no imitations of Apuleius except by those authors; nor do I know that the story of Psyche has any other original.

     I should willingly acknowledge with gratitude those authors who have, perhaps, supplied me with many expressions and ideas; but if I have subjected myself to the charge of plagiarism, it has been by adopting the words or images which floated upon my mind, without accurately examining, or being indeed able to distinguish, whether I owed them to my memory or my imagination,

  Si id est peccatum, peccatum imprudentia est
  Poetae, non qui furtum facere studuerit.
                                                               Terentius.

  Oh, thou! Whose tender smile most partially
   Hath ever blessed thy child: to thee belong
   The graces which adorn my first wild song,
  If aught of grace it knows: nor thou deny
  Thine ever prompt attention to supply.
   But let me lead thy willing ear along,
   Where virtuous love still bids the strain prolong
  His innocent applause; since from thine eye
   The beams of love first charmed my infant breast,
  And from thy lip Affection's soothing voice
   That eloquence of tenderness expressed,
  Which still my grateful heart confess'd divine:
  Oh! ever may its accents sweet rejoice
  The soul which loves to own whate'er it has is thine!

   Chi pensa quanto un bel desio d'amore
    Un spirto pellegrin tenga sublime;
    Non vorria non averne acceso il core;
   Chi gusta quanto dolce il creder sia
    Solo esser caro a chi sola n'e cara,
    Regna in un stato a cui null'altro e pria.

   Let not the rugged brow the rhymes accuse,
   Which speak of gentle knights and ladies fair,
   Nor scorn the lighter labours of the muse,
   Who yet, for cruel battles would not dare
   The low-strung chords of her weak lyre prepare;
   But loves to court repose in slumbery lay,
   To tell of goodly bowers and gardens rare,
   Of gentle blandishments and amorous play,
  And all the lore of love, in courtly verse essay.

   And ye, whose gentle hearts in thraldom held
   The power of mighty Love already own,
   When you the pains and dangers have beheld,
   Which erst your lord hath for his Psyche known,
   For all your sorrows this may well atone,
   That he you serve the same hath suffered;
   And sure, your fond applause the tale will crown
   In which your own distress is pictured,
  And all that weary way which you yourselves must tread.

   Most sweet would to my soul the hope appear,
   That sorrow in my verse a charm might find,
   To smooth the brow long bent with bitter cheer,
   Some short distraction to the joyless mind
   Which grief, with heavy chain, hath fast confined
   To sad remembrance of its happier state;
   For to myself I ask no boon more kind
   Than power another's woes to mitigate,
  And that soft soothing art which anguish can abate.

   And thou, sweet sprite, whose sway doth far extend,
   Smile on the mean historian of thy fame!
   My heart in each distress and fear befriend,
   Nor ever let it feel a fiercer flame
   Than innocence may cherish free from blame,
   And hope may nurse, and sympathy may own;
   For, as thy rights I never would disclaim,
   But true allegiance offered to thy throne,
  So may I love but one, by one beloved alone.

   That anxious torture may I never feel,
   Which, doubtful, watches o'er a wandering heart.
   Oh! who that bitter torment can reveal,
   Or tell the pining anguish of that smart!
   In those affections may I ne'er have part,
   Which easily transferred can learn to rove:
   No, dearest Cupid! when I feel thy dart,
   For thy sweet Psyche's sake may no false love
  The tenderness I prize lightly from me remove!

   Much wearied with her long and dreary way,
   And now with toil and sorrow well nigh spent,
   Of sad regret and wasting grief the prey,
   Fair Psyche through untrodden forests went,
   To lone shades uttering oft a vain lament.
   And oft in hopeless silence sighing deep,
   As she her fatal error did repent,
   While dear remembrance bade her ever weep,
  And her pale cheek in ceaseless showers of sorrow steep.

   ‘Mid the thick covert of that woodland shade,
   A flowery bank there lay undressed by art,
   But of the mossy turf spontaneous made;
   Here the young branches shot their arms athwart,
   And wove the bower so thick in every part,
   That the fierce beams of Phoebus glancing strong
   Could never through the leaves their fury dart;
   But the sweet creeping shrubs that round it throng,
  Their loving fragrance mix, and trail their flowers along.

   And close beside a little fountain play'd,
   Which through the trembling leaves all joyous shone,
   And with the cheerful birds sweet music made,
   Kissing the surface of each polish'd stone
   As it flowed past: sure as her favourite throne
   Tranquillity might well esteem the bower,
   The fresh and cool retreat have called her own,
   A pleasant shelter in the sultry hour,
  A refuge from the blast, and angry tempest's power.

   Wooed by the soothing silence of the scene
   Here Psyche stood, and looking round, lest aught
   Which threaten'd danger near her might have been,
   Awhile to rest her in that quiet spot
   She laid her down, and piteously bethought
   Herself on the sad changes of her fate,
   Which in so short a space so much had wrought,
   And now had raised her to such high estate,
  And now had plunged her low in sorrow desolate.

   Oh! how refreshing seemed the breathing wind
   To her faint limbs! and while her snowy hands
   From her fair brow her golden hair unbind,
   And of her zone unloose the silken bands,
   More passing bright unveiled her beauty stands;
   For faultless was her form as beauty's queen,
   And every winning grace that Love demands,
   With mild attempered dignity was seen
  Play o'er each lovely limb, and deck her angel mien.

   Though solitary now, dismay'd, forlorn,
   Without attendant through the forest rude,
   The peerless maid of royal lineage born
   By many a royal youth had oft been wooed;
   Low at her feet full many a prince had sued,
   And homage paid unto her beauty rare;
   But all their blandishments her heart withstood;
   And well might mortal suitor sure despair,
  Since mortal charms were none which might with hers compare.

   Yet nought of insolence or haughty pride
   Found ever in her gentle breast a place;
   Though men her wondrous beauty deified,
   And rashly deeming such celestial grace
   Could never spring from any earthly race,
   Lo! all forsaking Cytherea's shrine,
   Her sacred altars now no more embrace,
   But to fair Psyche pay those rites divine,
  Which, Goddess! are thy due, and should be only thine.

   But envy of her beauty's growing fame
   Poisoned her sisters' hearts with secret gall,
   And oft with seeming piety they blame
   The worship which they justly impious call;
   And oft, lest evil should their sire befall,
   Besought him to forbid the erring crowd
   Which hourly throng'd around the regal hall,
   With incense, gifts, and invocations loud,
  To her whose guiltless breast, ne'er felt elation proud.

   For she was timid as the wintry flower,
   That, whiter than the snow it blooms among,
   Droops its fair head submissive to the power
   Of every angry blast which sweeps along
   Sparing the lovely trembler, while the strong
   Majestic tenants of the leafless wood
   It levels low. But, ah! the pitying song
   Must tell how, than the tempest's self more rude,
  Fierce wrath and cruel hate their suppliant prey pursued.

   Indignant quitting her deserted fanes,
   Now Cytherea sought her favourite isle,
   And there from every eye her secret pains
   ‘Mid her thick myrtle bowers conceal'd awhile;
   Practis'd no more the glance, or witching smile,
   But nursed the pang she never felt before,
   Of mortified disdain; then to beguile
   The hours which mortal flattery soothed no more,
  She various plans revolved her influence to restore.

   She called her son with unaccustomed voice;
   Not with those thrilling accents of delight
   Which bade so oft enchanted Love rejoice,
   Soft as the breezes of a summer's night:
   Now choked with rage its change could Love affright;
   As all to sudden discontent a prey,
   Shunning the cheerful day's enlivening light,
   She felt the angry power's malignant sway,
  And bade her favourite boy her vengeful will obey.

   Bathed in those tears which vanquish human hearts,
   "Oh, son beloved!" (the suppliant goddess cried,)
   "If e'er thy too indulgent mother's arts
   "Subdued for thee the potent deities
   "Who rule my native deep, or haunt the skies;
   "Or if to me the grateful praise be due,
   "That to thy sceptre bow the great and wise,
   "Now let thy fierce revenge my foe pursue,
  "And let my rival scorned her vain presumption rue.

   "For what to me avails my former boast
   "That, fairer than the wife of Jove confest,
   "I gained the prize thus basely to be lost?
   "With me the world's devotion to contest
   "Behold a mortal dares; though on my breast
   "Still vainly brilliant shines the magic zone.
   "Yet, yet I reign: by you my wrongs redrest,
   "The world with humbled Psyche soon shall own
  "That Venus, beauty's queen, shall be adored alone.

   "Deep let her drink of that dark, bitter spring,
   "Which flows so near thy bright and crystal tide;
   "Deep let her heart thy sharpest arrow sting,
   "Its tempered barb in that black poison dyed.
   "Let her, for whom contending princes sighed,
   "Feel all the fury of thy fiercest flame
   "For some base wretch to foul disgrace allied,
   "Forgetful of her birth and her fair fame,
  "Her honours all defiled, and sacrificed to shame."

   Then, with sweet pressure of her rosy lip,
   A kiss she gave bathed in ambrosial dew;
   The thrilling joy he would for ever sip,
   And his moist eyes in ecstasy imbrue.
   But she whose soul still angry cares pursue,
   Snatched from the soft caress her glowing charms;
   Her vengeful will she then enforced anew,
   As she in haste dismissed him from her arms,
  The cruel draught to seek of anguish and alarms.

   ‘Mid the blue waves by circling seas embraced
   A chosen spot of fairest land was seen;
   For there with favouring hand had Nature placed
   All that could lovely make the varied scene:
   Eternal Spring there spread her mantle green;
   There high surrounding hills deep-wooded rose
   O'er placid lakes; while marble rocks between
   The fragrant shrubs their pointed heads disclose,
  And balmy breathes each gale which o'er the island blows.

   Pleasure had called the fertile lawns her own,
   And thickly strewed them with her choicest flowers;
   Amid the quiet glade her golden throne
   Bright shone with lustre through o'erarching bowers:
   There her fair train, the ever downy Hours,
   Sport on light wing with the young Joys entwin'd:
   While Hope delighted from her full lap showers
   Blossoms, whose fragrance can the ravished mind
  Inebriate with dreams of rapture unconfined.

   And in the grassy centre of the isle,
   Where the thick verdure spreads a damper shade,
   Amid their native rocks concealed awhile,
   Then o'er the plains in devious streams displayed,
   Two gushing fountains rise; and thence conveyed,
   Their waters through the woods and vallies play,
   Visit each green recess and secret glade,
   With still unmingled, still meandering way,
  Nor widely wandering far, can each from other stray.

   But of strange contrast are their virtues found,
   And oft the lady of that isle has tried
   In rocky dens and caverns under ground,
   The black deformed stream in vain to hide;
   Bursting all bounds her labours it defied;
   Yet many a flowery sod its course conceals
   Through plains where deep its silent waters glide,
   Till secret ruin all corroding steals,
  And every treacherous arch the hideous gulph reveals.

   Forbidding every kindly prosperous growth,
   Where'er it ran, a channel bleak it wore;
   The gaping banks receded, as though loth
   To touch the poison which disgraced their shore:
   There deadly anguish pours unmixed his store
   Of all the ills which sting the human breast,
   The hopeless tears which past delights deplore,
   Heart-gnawing jealousy which knows no rest,
  And self-upbraiding shame, by stern remorse opprest.

   Oh, how unlike the pure transparent stream,
   Which near it bubbles o'er its golden sands!
   The impeding stones with pleasant music seem
   Its progress to detain from other lands;
   And all its banks, inwreathed with flowery bands,
   Ambrosial fragrance shed in grateful dew:
   There young Desire enchanted ever stands,
   Breathing delight and fragrance ever new,
  And bathed in constant joys of fond affection true.

   But not to mortals is it e'er allowed
   To drink unmingled of that current bright;
   Scarce can they taste the pleasurable flood,
   Defiled by angry Fortune's envious spite;
   Who from the cup of amorous delight
   Dashes the sparkling draught of brilliant joy,
   Till, with dull sorrow's stream despoiled quite,
   No more it cheers the soul nor charms the eye,
  But ‘mid the poisoned bowl distrust and anguish lie.

   Here Cupid tempers his unerring darts,
   And in the fount of bliss delights to play;
   Here mingles balmy sighs and pleasing smarts,
   And here the honied draught will oft allay
   With that black poison's all-polluting sway,
   For wretched man. Hither, as Venus willed,
   For Psyche's punishment he bent his way:
   From either stream his amber vase he filled,
  For her were meant the drops which grief alone distilled.

   His quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold,
   From his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung,
   And from its top in brilliant chords enrolled
   Each little vase resplendently was slung:
   Still as he flew, around him sportive clung
   His frolic train of winged Zephyrs light,
   Wafting the fragrance which his tresses flung:
   While odours dropped from every ringlet bright,
  And from his blue eyes beamed ineffable delight.

   Wrapt in a cloud unseen by mortal eye,
   He sought the chamber of the royal maid;
   There, lulled by careless soft security,
   Of the impending mischief nought afraid,
   Upon her purple couch was Psyche laid,
   Her radiant eyes a downy slumber sealed;
   In light transparent veil alone arrayed,
   Her bosom's opening charms were half revealed,
  And scarce the lucid folds her polished limbs concealed.

   A placid smile plays o'er each roseate lip,
   Sweet severed lips! while thus your pearls disclose,
   That slumbering thus unconscious she may sip
   The cruel presage of her future woes?
   Lightly, as fall the dews upon the rose,
   Upon the coral gates of that sweet cell
   The fatal drops he pours; nor yet he knows,
   Nor, though a God, can he presaging tell
  How he himself shall mourn the ills of that sad spell!

   Nor yet content, he from his quiver drew,
   Sharpened with skill divine, a shining dart:
   No need had he for bow, since thus too true
   His hand might wound her all-exposed heart;
   Yet her fair side he touched with gentlest art,
   And half relenting on her beauties gazed;
   Just then awaking with a sudden start
   Her opening eye in humid lustre blazed,
  Unseen he still remained, enchanted and amazed.

   The dart which in his hand now trembling stood,
   As o'er the couch he bent with ravished eye,
   Drew with its daring point celestial blood
   From his smooth neck's unblemished ivory:
   Heedless of this, but with a pitying sigh
   The evil done now anxious to repair,
   He shed in haste the balmy drops of joy
   O'er all the silky ringlets of her hair;
  Then stretched his plumes divine, and breathed celestial air.

   Unhappy Psyche! soon the latent wound
   The fading roses of her cheek confess,
   Her eyes bright beams, in swimming sorrows drowned,
   Sparkle no more with life and happiness
   Her parents fond exulting heart to bless;
   She shuns adoring crowds, and seeks to hide
   The pining sorrows which her soul oppress,
   Till to her mother's tears no more denied,
  The secret grief she owns, for which she lingering sighed.

   A dream of mingled terror and delight
   Still heavy hangs upon her troubled soul,
   An angry form still swims before her sight,
   And still the vengeful thunders seem to roll;
   Still crushed to earth she feels the stern control
   Of Venus unrelenting, unappeased:
   The dream returns, she feels the fancied dole;
   Once more the furies on her heart have seized,
  But still she views the youth who all her sufferings eased.

   Of wonderous beauty did the vision seem,
   And in the freshest prime of youthful years;
   Such at the close of her distressful dream
   A graceful champion to her eyes appears;
   Her loved deliverer from her foes and fears
   She seems in grateful transport still to press;
   Still his soft voice sounds in her ravished ears;
   Dissolved in fondest tears of tenderness
  His form she oft invokes her waking eyes to bless.

   Nor was it quite a dream, for as she woke,
   Ere heavenly mists concealed him from her eye,
   One sudden transitory view she took
   Of Love's most radiant bright divinity;
   From the fair image never can she fly,
   As still consumed with vain desire she pines;
   While her fond parents heave the anxious sigh,
   And to avert her fate seek holy shrines
  The threatened ills to learn by auguries and signs.

   And now, the royal sacrifice prepared,
   The milk-white bull they to the altar lead,
   Whose youth the galling yoke as yet had spared,
   Now destined by the sacred knife to bleed:
   When lo! with sudden spring his horns he freed,
   And head-long rushed amid the frighted throng:
   While from the smoke-veiled shrine such sounds proceed
     As well might strike with awe the soul most strong;
  And thus divinely spoke the heaven inspired tongue.

   "On nuptial couch, in nuptial vest arrayed,
   "On a tall rock's high summit Psyche place:
   "Let all depart, and leave the fated maid
   "Who never must a mortal Hymen grace:
   "A winged monster of no earthly race
   "Thence soon shall bear his trembling bride away;
   "His power extends o'er all the bounds of space,
   "And Jove himself has owned his dreaded sway,
  "Whose flaming breath sheds fire, whom earth and heaven obey."

   With terror, anguish, and astonishment
   The oracle her wretched father hears;
   Now from his brow the regal honours rent,
   And now in frantic sorrow wild appears,
   Nor threatened plagues, nor punishment he fears,
   Refusing long the sentence to obey,
   Till Psyche, trembling with submissive tears,
   Bids them the sacrifice no more delay,
  Prepare the funeral couch, and leave the destined prey.

   Pleased by the ambiguous doom the Fates promulge,
   The angry Goddess and enamoured Boy
   Alike content their various hopes indulge;
   He, still exploring with an anxious eye
   The future prospect of uncertain joy,
   Plans how the tender object of his care
   He may protect from threatened misery;
   Ah sanguine Love! so oft deceived, forbear
  With flattering tints to paint illusive hope so fair.

   But now what lamentations rend the skies!
   In amaracine wreaths the virgin choir
   With Io Hymen mingle funeral cries:
   Lost in the sorrows of the Lydian lyre
   The breathing flutes' melodious notes expire;
   In sad procession pass the mournful throng
   Extinguishing with tears the torches' fire,
   While the mute victim weeping crowds among,
  By unknown fears oppressed, moves silently along.

   But on such scenes of terror and dismay
   The mournful Muse delights not long to dwell;
   She quits well pleased the melancholy lay,
   Nor vainly seeks the parents' woes to tell,
   But what to wondering Psyche then befell
   When thus abandoned, let her rather say,
   Who shuddering looks to see some monster fell
   Approach the desert rock to seize his prey,
  With cruel fangs devour, or tear her thence away.

   When lo! a gentle breeze began to rise,
   Breathed by obedient Zephyrs round the maid,
   Fanning her bosom with its softest sighs
   Awhile among her fluttering robes it strayed,
   And boldly sportive latent charms displayed:
   And then, as Cupid willed, with tenderest care
   From the tall rock, where weeping she was laid,
   With gliding motion through the yielding air
  To Pleasure's blooming isle their lovely charge they bear.

   On the green bosom of the turf reclined,
   They lightly now the astonished virgin lay,
   To placid rest they sooth her troubled mind;
   Around her still with watchful care they stay,
   Around her still in quiet whispers play;
   Till lulling slumbers bid her eyelids close,
   Veiling with silky fringe each brilliant ray,
   While soft tranquility divinely flows,
  O'er all her soul serene, in visions of repose.

   Refreshed she rose, and all enchanted gazed
   On the rare beauties of the pleasant scene.
   Conspicuous far a lofty palace blazed
   Upon a sloping bank of softest green;
   A fairer edifice was never seen;
   The high ranged columns own no mortal hand,
   But seem a temple meet for Beauty's queen.
   Like polish'd snow the marble pillars stand
  In grace attempered majesty sublimely grand.

   Gently ascending from a silvery flood,
   Above the palace rose the shaded hill,
   The lofty eminence was crowned with wood,
   And the rich lawns, adorned by nature's skill,
   The passing breezes with their odours fill;
   Here ever blooming groves of orange glow,
   And here all flowers which from their leaves distil
   Ambrosial dew in sweet succession blow,
  And trees of matchless size a fragrant shade bestow.

   The sun looks glorious mid a sky serene,
   And bids bright lustre sparkle o'er the tide;
   The clear blue ocean at a distance seen
   Bounds the gay landscape on the western side,
   While closing round it with majestic pride,
   The lofty rocks mid citron groves arise;
   "Sure some divinity must here reside,"
   As tranc'd in some bright vision, Psyche cries,
  And scarce believes the bliss, or trusts her charmed eyes.

   When lo! a voice divinely sweet she hears,
   From unseen lips proceeds the heavenly sound;
   "Psyche approach, dismiss thy timid fears,
   "At length his bride thy longing spouse has found,
   "And bids for thee immortal joys abound;
   "For thee the palace rose at his command,
   "For thee his love a bridal banquet crowned;
   "He bids attendant nymphs around thee stand
  "Prompt every wish to serve, a fond obedient band."

   Increasing wonder filled her ravished soul,
   For now the pompous portals opened wide,
   There, pausing oft, with timid foot she stole
   Through halls high domed, enriched with sculptured pride,
   While gay saloons appeared on either side
   In splendid vista opening to her sight;
   And all with precious gems so beautified,
   And furnished with such exquisite delight,
  That scarce the beams of heaven emit such lustre bright.

   The amethyst was there of violet hue,
     And there the topaz shed its golden ray,
   The chrysoberyl, and the sapphire blue
   As the clear azure of a sunny day,
   Or the mild eyes where amorous glances play;
   The snow white jasper, and the opal's flame,
   The blushing ruby, and the agate grey,
   And there the gem which bears his luckless name
  Whose death by Phoebus mourned ensured him deathless fame.

   There the green emerald, there cornelians glow,
   And rich carbuncles pour eternal light,
   With all that India and Peru can shew,
   Or Labrador can give so flaming bright
   To the charmed mariner's half dazzled sight:
   The coral paved baths with diamonds blaze:
   And all that can the female heart delight
   Of fair attire, the last recess displays,
  And all that Luxury can ask, her eye surveys.

   Now through the hall melodious music stole,
   And self-prepared the splendid banquet stands,
   Self-poured the nectar sparkles in the bowl,
   The lute and viol touched by unseen hands
   Aid the soft voices of the choral bands;
   O'er the full board a brighter lustre beams
   Than Persia's monarch at his feast commands:
   For sweet refreshment all inviting seems
  To taste celestial food, and pure ambrosial streams.

   But when meek Eve hung out her dewy star,
   And gently veiled with gradual hand the sky,
   Lo! the bright folding doors retiring far,
   Display to Psyche's captivated eye
   All that voluptuous ease could e'er supply
   To sooth the spirits in serene repose:
   Beneath the velvet's purple canopy
   Divinely formed a downy couch arose,
  While alabaster lamps a milky light disclose.

   Once more she hears the hymeneal strain;
   Far other voices now attune the lay;
   The swelling sounds approach, awhile remain,
   And then retiring faint dissolved away:
   The expiring lamps emit a feebler ray,
   And soon in fragrant death extinguished lie:
   Then virgin terrors Psyche's soul dismay,
   When through the obscuring gloom she nought can spy,
  But softly rustling sounds declare some Being nigh.

   Oh, you for whom I write! whose hearts can melt
   At the soft thrilling voice whose power you prove,
   You know what charm, unutterably felt,
   Attends the unexpected voice of Love:
   Above the lyre, the lute's soft notes above,
   With sweet enchantment to the soul it steals
   And bears it to Elysium's happy grove;
   You best can tell the rapture Psyche feels
  When Love's ambrosial lip the vows of Hymen seals.

   "‘Tis he, ‘tis my deliverer! deep imprest
   "Upon my heart those sounds I well recal,"
   The blushing maid exclaimed, and on his breast
   A tear of trembling ecstasy let fall.
   But, ere the breezes of the morning call
   Aurora from her purple, humid bed,
   Psyche in vain explores the vacant hall,
   Her tender lover from her arms is fled,
  While sleep his downy wings had o'er her eye-lids spread.

   Again the band invisible attend,
   And female voices sooth the mournful bride;
   Light hands to braid her hair assistance lend,
   By some she sees the glowing bracelet tied,
   Others officious hover at her side,
   And each bright gem for her acceptance bring,
   While some, the balmy air diffusing wide,
   Fan softer perfumes from each odorous wing
  Than the fresh bosom shed of earliest, sweetest spring.

   With songs divine her anxious soul they cheer,
   And woo her footsteps to delicious bowers,
   They bid the fruit more exquisite appear
   Which at her feet its bright profusion showers:
   For her they cull unknown, celestial flowers;
   The gilded car they bid her fearless guide,
   Which at her wish self-moved with wondrous powers,
   The rapid bird's velocity defied,
  While round the blooming isle it rolled with circuit wide.

   Again they spread the feast, they strike the lyre,
   But to her frequent questions nought reply,
   Her lips in vain her lover's name require,
   Or wherefore thus concealed he shuns her eye.
    But when reluctant twilight veils the sky,
   And each pale lamp successively expires;
   Again she trembling hears the voice of joy,
   Her spouse a tender confidence inspires,
  But with a fond embrace ere dawn again retires.

   To charm the languid hours of solitude
   He oft invites her to the Muse's lore,
   For none have vainly e'er the Muse pursued,
   And those whom she delights, regret no more
   The social, joyous hours, while rapt they soar
   To worlds unknown, and live in fancy's dream:
   Oh, Muse divine! thee only I implore,
   Shed on my soul thy sweet inspiring beams,
  And pleasure's gayest scene insipid folly seems!

   Silence and solitude the Muses love,
   And whom they charm they can alone suffice;
   Nor ever tedious hour their votaries prove:
   This solace now the lonely Psyche tries,
   Or, while her hand the curious needle plies,
   She learns from lips unseen celestial strains;
   Responsive now with their soft voice she vies,
   Or bids her plaintive harp express the pains
  Which absence sore inflicts where Love all potent reigns.

   But melancholy poisons all her joys,
   And secret sorrows all her hopes depress,
   Consuming languor every bliss destroys,
   And sad she droops repining, comfortless.
   Her tender lover well the cause can guess,
   And sees too plain inevitable fate
   Pursue her to the bowers of happiness.
   "Oh, Psyche! most beloved, ere yet too late,
  "Dread the impending ills and prize thy tranquil state."

   In vain his weeping love he thus advised;
   She longs to meet a parent's sweet embrace,
   "Oh, were their sorrowing hearts at least apprised
   "How Psyche's wondrous lot all fears may chase;
   "For whom thy love prepared so fair a place!
   "Let but my bliss their fond complaints repress,
   "Let me but once behold a mother's face,
   "Oh, spouse adored! and in full happiness
  "This love-contented heart its solitude shall bless.

   "Oh, by those beauties I must ne'er behold!
   "The spicy-scented ringlets of thine hair:
   "By that soft neck my loving arms enfold,
   "Crown with a kind consent thy Psyche's prayer!
   "Their dear embrace, their blessing let me share;
   "So shall I stain our couch with tears no more:
   "But, blest in thee, resign each other care,
   "Nor seek again thy secret to explore,
   "Which yet, denied thy sight, I ever must deplore."

   Unable to resist her fond request,
   Reluctant Cupid thus at last complied,
   And sighing clasped her closer to his breast.
   "Go then, my Psyche! go, my lovely bride!
   "But let me in thy faith at least confide,
   "That by no subtle, impious arts betrayed,
   "Which, ah! too well I know will all be tried,
   "Thy simply trusting heart shall e'er be swayed
  "The secret veil to rend which fate thy screen hath made.

   "For danger hovers o'er thy smiling days,
   "One only way to shield thee yet I know;
   "Unseen I may securely guard thy ways
   "And save thee from the threatened storm of woe;
   "But forced, if known, my Psyche to forego,
   "Thou never, never must again be mine!
   "What mutual sorrows hence must ceaseless flow!
   "Compelled thy dear embraces to resign,
  "While thou to anguish doomed for lost delights shalt pine.

   "Solace thy mind with hope of future joy!
   "In a dear infant thou shalt see my face;
   "Blest mother soon of an immortal boy,
   "In him his father's features thou shalt trace!
   "Yet go! for thou art free, the bounds of space
   "Are none for thee: attendant Zephyrs stay,
   "Speak but thy will, and to the wished for place
   "Their lovely mistress swift they shall convey:
  "Yet hither ah! return ere fades the festive day."

   "Light of my soul, far dearer than the day!"
   (Exulting Psyche cries in grateful joy)
   "Me all the bliss of earth could ill repay
   "For thy most sweet, divine society;
   "To thee again with rapture will I fly,
   "Nor with less pleasure hail the star of eve
   "Than when in tedious solitude I sigh;
   "My vows of silent confidence believe,
  "Nor think thy Psyche's faith will e'er thy love deceive."

   Her suit obtained, in full contentment blest,
   Her eyes at length in placid slumbers close.
   Sleep, hapless fair! sleep on thy lover's breast!
   Ah, not again to taste such pure repose!
   Till thy sad heart by long experience knows
   How much they err, who to their interest blind,
   Slight the calm peace which from retirement flows;
   And while they think their fleeting joys to bind,
  Banish the tranquil bliss which heaven for man designed!

   Oh happy you! who blest with present bliss
   See not with fatal prescience future tears,
   Nor the dear moment of enjoyment miss
   Through gloomy discontent, or sullen fears
   Foreboding many a storm for coming years;
   Change is the lot of all. Ourselves with scorn
   Perhaps shall view what now so fair appears;
   And wonder whence the fancied charm was born
  Which now with vain despair from our fond grasp is torn!

   Vain schemer, think not to prolong thy joy!
   But cherish while it lasts the heavenly boon;
   Expand thy sails! thy little bark shall fly
   With the full tide of pleasure! though it soon
   May feel the influence of the changeful moon,
   It yet is thine! then let not doubts obscure
   With cloudy vapours veil thy brilliant noon,
   Nor let suspicion's tainted breath impure
  Poison the favouring gale which speeds thy course secure!

   Oh, Psyche, happy in thine ignorance!
   Couldst thou but shun this heart tormenting bane;
   Be but content, nor daringly advance
   To meet the bitter hour of threatened pain;
   Pure spotless dove! seek thy safe nest again;
   Let true affection shun the public eye,
   And quit the busy circle of the vain,
   For there the treacherous snares concealed lie;
  Oh timely warned escape! to safe retirement fly!

   Bright shone the morn! and now its golden ray
   Dispelled the slumbers from her radiant eyes,
   Yet still in dreams her fancy seems to play,
   For lo! she sees with rapture and surprise
   Full in her view the well-known mansion rise,
   And each loved scene of first endearment hails;
   The air that first received her infant sighs
   With wondring ecstasy she now inhales,
  While every trembling nerve soft tenderness assails.

   See from the dear pavilion, where she lay,
   Breathless she flies with scarce assured feet,
   Swift through the garden wings her eager way,
   Her mourning parents ravished eyes to greet
   With loveliest apparition strange and sweet:
   Their days of anguish all o'erpaid they deem
   By one blest hour of ecstasy so great:
   Yet doubtingly they gaze, and anxious seem
  To ask their raptured souls, "Oh, is this all a dream?"

   The wondrous tale attentively they hear,
   Repeated oft in broken words of joy,
   She in their arms embraced, while every ear
   Hangs on their Psyche's lips, and earnestly
   On her is fixed each wonder speaking eye;
   Till the sad hour arrives which bids them part,
   And twilight darkens o‘er the ruddy sky;
   Divinely urged they let their child depart,
  Pressed with a fond embrace to each adoring heart.

   Trusting that wedded to a spouse divine
   Secure is now their daughter's happiness,
   They half contentedly their child resign,
   Check the complaint, the rising sigh suppress,
   And wipe the silent drops of bitterness.
   Nor must she her departure more delay,
   But bids them now their weeping Psyche bless;
   Then back to the pavilion bends her way
  Ere in the fading west quite sinks expiring day.

   But, while her parents listen with delight,
   Her sisters hearts the Furies agitate:
   They look with envy on a lot so bright,
   And all the honours of her splendid fate,
   Scorning the meanness of their humbler state;
   And how they best her ruin may devise
   With hidden rancour much they meditate,
   Yet still they bear themselves in artful guise,
  While 'mid the feigned caress, concealed the venom lies.

   By malice urged, by ruthless envy stung,
   With secret haste to seize their prey they flew,
   Around her neck as in despair they clung;
   Her soft complying nature well they knew,
   And trusted by delaying to undo;
   But when they found her resolute to go,
   Their well laid stratagem they then pursue,
   And, while they bid their treacherous sorrows flow,
  Thus fright her simple heart with images of woe.

   "Oh, hapless Psyche! thoughtless of thy doom!
   "Yet hear thy sisters who have wept for thee,
   "Since first a victim to thy living tomb,
   "Obedient to the oracle's decree,
   "Constrained we left thee to thy destiny.
   "Since then no comfort could our woes abate;
   "While thou wert lulled in false security
   "We learned the secret horrors of thy fate,
  "And heard prophetic lips thy future ills relate.

   "Yet fearing never to behold thee more,
   "Our filial care would fain the truth conceal;
   "But from the sages cell this ring we bore,
   "With power each latent magic to reveal:
   "Some hope from hence our anxious bosoms feel
   "That we from ruin may our Psyche save,
   "Since Heaven propitious to our pious zeal,
   "Thee to our frequent prayers in pity gave,
  "That warned thou yet mayest shun thy sad untimely grave.

   "Oh! how shall we declare the fatal truth?
   "How wound thy tender bosom with alarms?
   "Tell how the graces of thy blooming youth,
   "Thy more than mortal, all-adored charms
   "Have lain enamoured in a sorcerer's arms?
   "Oh, Psyche! seize on this decisive hour,
   "Escape the mischief of impending harms!
   "Return no more to that enchanted bower,
  "Fly the magician's arts, and dread his cruel power.

   "If, yet reluctant to forego thy love,
   "Thy furtive joys and solitary state,
   "Our fond officious care thy doubts reprove,
   "At least let some precaution guard thy fate,
   "Nor may our warning love be prized too late;
   "This night thyself thou mayst convince thine eyes,
   "Hide but a lamp, and cautiously await
   "Till in deep slumber thy magician lies,
  "This ring shall then disclose his foul deformities.

   "That monster by the oracle foretold,
   "Whose cursed spells both gods and men must fear,
   "In his own image thou shalt then behold,
   "And shuddering hate what now is prized so dear;
   "Yet fly not then, though loathsome he appear,
   "But let this dagger to his breast strike deep;
   "Thy coward terrors then thou must not hear,
   "For if with life he rouses from that sleep
  "Nought then for thee remains, and we must hopeless weep."

   Oh! have you seen, when in the northern sky
   The transient flame of lambent lightning plays,
   In quick succession lucid streamers fly,
   Now flashing roseate, and now milky rays,
   While struck with awe the astonished rustics gaze?
   Thus o'er her cheek the fleeting signals move,
   Now pale with fear, now glowing with the blaze
   Of much indignant, still confiding love,
  Now horror's lurid hue with shame's deep blushes strove.

   On her cold, passive hand the ring they place,
   And hide the dagger in her folding vest;
   Pleased the effects of their dire arts to trace
   In the mute agony that swells her breast,
   Already in her future ruin blest:
   Conscious that now their poor deluded prey
   Should never taste again delight or rest,
   But sickening in suspicion's gloom decay,
  Or urged by terrors rash their treacherous will obey.

   While yet irresolute with sad surprise,
   Mid doubt and love she stands in strange suspense,
   Lo! gliding from her sisters wondering eyes
   Returning Zephyrs gently bear her thence;
   Lost all her hopes, her joys, her confidence,
   Back to the earth her mournful eyes she threw,
   As if imploring pity and defence;
   While bathed in tears her golden tresses flew,
  As in the breeze dispersed they caught the precious dew.

   Illumined bright now shines the splendid dome,
   Melodious accents her arrival hail:
   But not the torches' blaze can chase the gloom,
   And all the soothing powers of music fail;
   Trembling she seeks her couch with horror pale,
   But first a lamp conceals in secret shade,
   While unknown terrors all her soul assail.
   Thus half their treacherous counsel is obeyed,
  For still her gentle soul abhors the murderous blade.

   And now, with softest whispers of delight,
   Love welcomes Psyche still more fondly dear;
   Not unobserved, though hid in deepest night,
   The silent anguish of her secret fear.
   He thinks that tenderness excites the tear
   By the late image of her parents' grief,
   And half offended seeks in vain to cheer,
   Yet, while he speaks, her sorrows feel relief,
  Too soon more keen to sting from this suspension brief!

   Allowed to settle on celestial eyes
   Soft Sleep exulting now exerts his sway,
   From Psyche's anxious pillow gladly flies
   To veil those orbs, whose pure and lambent ray
   The powers of heaven submissively obey.
   Trembling and breathless then she softly rose
   And seized the lamp, where it obscurely lay,
   With hand too rashly daring to disclose
  The sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes.

   Twice, as with agitated step she went,
   The lamp expiring shone with doubtful gleam,
   As though it warned her from her rash intent:
   And twice she paused, and on its trembling beam
   Gazed with suspended breath, while voices seem
   With murmuring sound along the roof to sigh;
   As one just waking from a troublous dream,
   With palpitating heart and straining eye,
  Still fixed with fear remains, still thinks the danger nigh.

   Oh, daring Muse! wilt thou indeed essay
   To paint the wonders which that lamp could shew?
   And canst thou hope in living words to say
   The dazzling glories of that heavenly view?
   Ah! well I ween, that if with pencil true
   That splendid vision could be well exprest,
   The fearful awe imprudent Psyche knew
   Would seize with rapture every wondering breast,
  When Love's all potent charms divinely stood confest.

   All imperceptible to human touch,
   His wings display celestial essence light,
   The clear effulgence of the blaze is such,
   The brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright
   That mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight;
   A youth he seems in manhood's freshest years;
   Round his fair neck, as clinging with delight,
   Each golden curl resplendently appears,
  Or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears.

   Or o'er his guileless front the ringlets bright
   Their rays of sunny lustre seem to throw,
   That front than polished ivory more white!
   His blooming cheeks with deeper blushes glow
   Than roses scattered o'er a bed of snow:
   While on his lips, distilled in balmy dews,
   (Those lips divine that even in silence know
   The heart to touch) persuasion to infuse
  Still hangs a rosy charm that never vainly sues.

   The friendly curtain of indulgent sleep
   Disclosed not yet his eyes' resistless sway,
   But from their silky veil there seemed to peep
   Some brilliant glances with a softened ray,
   Which o'er his features exquisitely play,
   And all his polished limbs suffuse with light.
   Thus through some narrow space the azure day
   Sudden its cheerful rays diffusing bright,
  Wide darts its lucid beams, to gild the brow of night.

   His fatal arrows and celestial bow
   Beside the couch were negligently thrown,
   Nor needs the god his dazzling arms, to show
   His glorious birth, such beauty round him shone
   As sure could spring from Beauty's self alone;
   The gloom which glowed o'er all of soft desire,
   Could well proclaim him Beauty's cherished son;
   And Beauty's self will oft these charms admire,
  And steal his witching smile, his glance's living fire.

   Speechless with awe, in transport strangely lost
   Long Psyche stood with fixed adoring eye;
   Her limbs immoveable, her senses tost
   Between amazement, fear, and ecstasy,
   She hangs enamoured o'er the Deity.
   Till from her trembling hand extinguished falls
   The fatal lamp--He starts--and suddenly
   Tremendous thunders echo through the halls,
  While ruin's hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls.

   Dread horror seizes on her sinking heart,
   A mortal chillness shudders at her breast,
   Her soul shrinks fainting from death's icy dart,
   The groan scarce uttered dies but half exprest,
   And down she sinks in deadly swoon opprest:
   But when at length, awaking from her trance,
   The terrors of her fate stand all confest,
   In vain she casts around her timid glance,
  The rudely frowning scenes her former joys enhance.

   No traces of those joys, alas, remain!
   A desert solitude alone appears.
   No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain,
   The wide spread waste no gentle fountain cheers,
   One barren face the dreary prospect wears;
   Nought through the vast horizon meets her eye
   To calm the dismal tumult of her fears,
   No trace of human habitation nigh,
  A sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky.

   The mists of morn yet chill the gloomy air,
   And heavily obscure the clouded skies;
   In the mute anguish of a fixed despair
   Still on the ground immoveable she lies;
   At length with lifted hands and streaming eyes,
   Her mournful prayers invoke offended Love,
   "Oh, let me hear thy voice once more," she cries,
   "In death at least thy pity let me move,
  "And death, if but forgiven, a kind relief will prove.

   "For what can life to thy lost Psyche give,
   "What can it offer but a gloomy void?
   "Why thus abandoned should I wish to live?
   "To mourn the pleasure which I once enjoyed,
   "The bliss my own rash folly hath destroyed;
   "Of all my soul most prized, or held most dear,
   "Nought but the sad remembrance doth abide,
   "And late repentance of my impious fear;
  "Remorse and vain regret what living soul can bear!

   "Oh, art thou then indeed for ever gone!
   "And art thou heedless of thy Psyche's woe!
   "From these fond arms for ever art thou flown,
   "And unregarded must my sorrows flow!
   "Ah! why too happy did I ever know
   "The rapturous charms thy tenderness inspires?
   "Ah! why did thy affections stoop so low?
   "Why kindle in a mortal breast such fires,
  "Or with celestial love inflame such rash desires?

   "Abandoned thus for ever by thy love,
   "No greater punishment I now can bear,
   "From fate no farther malice can I prove;
   "Not all the horrors of this desert drear,
   "Nor death itself can now excite a fear;
   "The peopled earth a solitude as vast
   "To this despairing heart would now appear;
   "Here then, my transient joys for ever past,
  "Let thine expiring bride thy pardon gain at last!"

   Now prostrate on the bare unfriendly ground,
   She waits her doom in silent agony;
   When lo! the well known soft celestial sound
   She hears once more with breathless ecstasy,
   "Oh! yet too dearly loved! Lost Psyche! Why
   "With cruel fate wouldst thou unite thy power,
   "And force me thus thine arms adored to fly?
   "Yet cheer thy drooping soul, some happier hour
  "Thy banished steps may lead back to thy lover's bower.

   "Though angry Venus we no more can shun,
   "Appease that anger and I yet am thine!
   "Lo! where her temple glitters to the sun;
   "With humble penitence approach her shrine,
   "Perhaps to pity she may yet incline;
   "But should her cruel wrath these hopes deceive,
   "And thou, alas! must never more be mine,
   "Yet shall thy lover ne'er his Psyche leave,
  "But, if the fates allow, unseen thy woes relieve.

   "Stronger than I, they now forbid my stay;
   "Psyche beloved, adieu!" Scarce can she hear
   The last faint words, which gently melt away;
   And now more faint the dying sounds appear,
   Borne to a distance from her longing ear;
   Yet still attentively she stands unmoved,
   To catch those accents which her soul could cheer,
   That soothing voice which had so sweetly proved
  That still his tender heart offending Psyche loved!

   And now the joyous sun had cleared the sky,
   The mist dispelled revealed the splendid fane;
   A palmy grove majestically high
   Screens the fair building from the desert plain;
   Of alabaster white and free from stain
   Mid the tall trees the tapering columns rose;
   Thither, with fainting steps, and weary pain,
   Obedient to the voice at length she goes,
  And at the threshold seeks protection and repose.

   Round the soft scene immortal roses bloom,
   While lucid myrtles in the breezes play;
   No savage beast did ever yet presume
   With foot impure within the grove to stray,
   And far from hence flies every bird of prey;
   Thus, mid the sandy Garamantian wild,
   When Macedonia's lord pursued his way,
   The sacred temple of great Ammon smiled,
  And green encircling shades the long fatigue beguiled:

   With awe that fearfully her doom awaits
   Still at the portal Psyche timid lies,
   When lo! advancing from the hallowed gates
   Trembling she views with reverential eyes
   An aged priest. A myrtle bough supplies
   A wand, and roses bind his snowy brows:
   "Bear hence thy feet profane (he sternly cries)
   "Thy longer stay the goddess disallows,
  "Fly, nor her fiercer wrath too daringly arouse!"

   His pure white robe imploringly she held,
   And, bathed in tears, embraced his sacred knees;
   Her mournful charms relenting he beheld,
   And melting pity in his eye she sees;
   "Hope not (he cries) the goddess to appease,
   "Retire at awful distance from her shrine,
   "But seek the refuge of those sheltering trees,
   "And now thy soul with humble awe incline
  "To hear her sacred will, and mark the words divine."

   "Presumptuous Psyche! whose aspiring soul
   "The God of Love has dared to arrogate;
   "Rival of Venus! whose supreme control
   "Is now asserted by all ruling fate,
   "No suppliant tears her vengeance shall abate
   "Till thou hast raised an altar to her power,
   "Where perfect happiness, in lonely state,
   "Has fixed her temple in secluded bower,
  "By foot impure of man untrodden to this hour!

   "And on the altar must thou place an urn
   "Filled from immortal Beauty's sacred spring,
   "Which foul deformity to grace can turn,
   "And back to fond affection's eyes can bring
   "The charms which fleeting fled on transient wing;
   "Snatched from the rugged steep where first they rise,
   "Dark rocks their crystal source o'ershadowing,
   "Let their clear water sparkle to the skies
  "Where cloudless lustre beams which happiness supplies!

   "To Venus thus for ever reconciled,
   "(This one atonement all her wrath disarms,)
   "From thy loved Cupid then no more exiled
   "There shalt thou, free from sorrow and alarms,
   "Enjoy for ever his celestial charms.
   "But never shalt thou taste a pure repose,
   "Nor ever meet thy lover's circling arms,
   "Till, all subdued that shall thy steps oppose,
  "Thy perils there shall end, escaped from all thy foes."

   With meek submissive woe she heard her doom,
   Nor to the holy minister replied;
   But in the myrtle grove's mysterious gloom
   She silently retired her grief to hide.
   Hopeless to tread the waste without a guide,
   All unrefreshed and faint from toil she lies:
   When lo! her present wants are all supplied,
   Sent by the hand of Love a turtle flies,
  And sets delicious food before her wondering eyes.

   Cheered by the favouring omen, softer tears
   Relieve her bosom from its cruel weight:
   She blames the sad despondence of her fears,
   When still protected by a power so great,
   His tenderness her toils will mitigate.
   Then with renewed strength at length she goes,
   Hoping to find some skilled in secret fate,
   Some learned sage who haply might disclose
  Where lay that blissful bower the end of all her woes.

   And as she went, behold, with hovering flight
   The dove preceded still her doubtful way;
   Its spotless plumage of the purest white,
   Which shone resplendent in the blaze of day,
   Could even in darkest gloom a light display;
   Of heavenly birth, when first to mortals given
   Named Innocence. But ah! too short its stay;
   By ravenous birds it fearfully was driven
  Back to reside with Love, a denizen of heaven.

   Now through the trackless wild, o'er many a mile
   The messenger of Cupid led the fair,
   And cheered with hope her solitary toil,
   Till now a brighter face the prospects wear,
   Past are the sandy wastes and deserts bare,
   And many a verdant hill, and grassy dale,
   And trace, that mortal culture might declare,
   And many a wild wood dark, and joyous vale
  Appeared her soul to sooth, could soothing scenes avail.

   But other fears her timid soul distress,
   Mid strangers unprotected and alone,
   The desert wilderness alarmed her less
   Than cities, thus unfriended and unknown;
   But where the path was all by moss o'ergrown,
   There still she chose her solitary way,
   Where'er her faithful Dove before had flown
   Fearful of nought she might securely stray,
  For still his care supplied the wants of every day.

   And still she entered every sacred grove
   And homage paid to each divinity,
   But chief the altar of almighty Love
   Weeping embraced with fond imploring eye;
   To every oracle her hopes apply,
   Instructions for her dangerous path to gain:
   Exclaiming oft, with a desponding sigh,
   "Ah! how through all such dangers, toil and pain,
  "Shall Psyche's helpless steps their object e'er attain!"

   And now remote from every peopled town
   One sultry day a cooling bower she found:
   There, as I whilom sung, she laid her down,
   Where rich profusion of gay flowers around
   Had decked with artless shew the sloping ground,
   There the wild rose and modest violet grow,
   There all thy charms, Narcissus! still abound:
   There wrapt in verdure fragrant lilies blow,
  Lilies that love the vale, and hide their bells of snow.

   Thy flowers, Adonis! bright vermilion shew;
   Still for his love the yellow Crocus pines;
   There, while indignant blushes seem to glow,
   Beloved by Phoebus his Acanthus shines;
   Reseda still her drooping head reclines
   With faithful homage to his golden rays,
   And, though mid clouds their lustre he resigns,
   An image of the constant heart displays,
  While silent still she turns her fond pursuing gaze.

   And every sweet that Spring with fairy hands
   Scatters in thy green path, enchanting May!
   And every flowering shrub there clustering stands
   As though they wooed her to a short delay,
   Yielding a charm to sooth her weary way;
   Soft was the tufted moss, and sweet the breeze,
   With lulling sound the murmuring waters play,
   With lulling sound from all the rustling trees
  The fragrant gale invites to cool refreshing ease.

   There as she sought repose, her sorrowing heart
   Recalled her absent love with bitter sighs;
   Regret had deeply fixed the poisoned dart,
   Which ever rankling in her bosom lies;
   In vain she seeks to close her weary eyes,
   Those eyes still swim incessantly in tears,
   Hope in her cheerless bosom fading dies,
   Distracted by a thousand cruel fears,
  While banished from his love for ever she appears.

   Oh! thou best comforter of that sad heart
   Whom fortune's spite assails; come, gentle Sleep,
   The weary mourner sooth! for well the art
   Thou knowest in soft forgetfulness to steep
   The eyes which sorrow taught to watch and weep;
   Let blissful visions now her spirits cheer,
   Or lull her cares to peace in slumbers deep,
   Till from fatigue refreshed and anxious fear
  Hope like the morning star once more shall re-appear.

   Oh, who art thou who darest of Love complain?
   He is a gentle spirit and injures none!
   His foes are ours; from them the bitter pain,
   The keen, deep anguish, the heart-rending groan,
   Which in his milder reign are never known.
   His tears are softer than the April showers,
   White-handed Innocence supports his throne,
   His sighs are sweet as breath of earliest flowers,
  Affection guides his steps, and peace protects his bowers.

   But scarce admittance he on earth can find,
   Opposed by vanity, by fraud ensnared,
   Suspicion frights him from the gloomy mind,
   And jealousy in vain his smiles has shared,
   Whose sullen frown the gentle godhead scared;
   From passion's rapid blaze in haste he flies,
   His wings alone the fiercer flame has spared;
   From him ambition turns his scornful eyes,
  And avarice, slave to gold, a generous lord denies.

   But chief Inconstancy his power destroys;
   To mock his lovely form, an idle train
   With magic skill she dressed in transient toys,
   By these the selfish votaries she can gain
   Whom Love's more simple bands could ne'er detain.
   Ah! how shall Psyche through such mortal foes
   The fated end of all her toils attain?
   Sadly she ponders o'er her hopeless woes,
  Till on the pillowy turf she sinks to short repose.

   But, as the careless lamb whom playful chance
   Thoughtless of danger has enticed to rove,
   Amidst her gambols casts a sudden glance
   Where lurks her wily foe within the grove,
   Anxious to fly, but still afraid to move,
   All hopeless of escape--so looks the maid,
   Such dread her half-awakened senses prove,
   When roused from sleep before her eyes dismayed
  A knight all armed appears close mid the embowering shade.

   Trembling she gazed, until the stranger knight
   Tempering with mildest courtesy, the awe
   Which majesty inspired, low in her sight
   Obeisance made; nor would he nearer draw,
   Till, half subdued surprise and fear, he saw
   Pale terror yielding to the rosy grace,
   The pure congealed blood begin to thaw,
   And flowing through her crystal veins apace
  Suffuse with mantling blush her mild celestial face.

   Gently approaching then with fairest speech
   He proffered service to the lonely dame,
   And prayed her that she might not so impeach
   The honour of his youth's yet spotless fame,
   As aught to fear which might his knighthood shame;
   But if her unprotected steps to guard,
   The glory of her champion he might claim,
   He asked no other guerdon or reward,
  Than what bright honour's self might to his deeds award.

   Doubting, and musing much within her mind,
   With half suspicious, half confiding eye,
   Awhile she stood; her thoughts bewildered find
   No utterance, unwilling to deny
   Such proffered aid, yet bashful to reply
   With quick assent, since though concealed his face
   Beneath his helm, yet might she well espy
   And in each fair proportion plainly trace
  The symmetry of form, and perfect youthful grace.

   Hard were it to describe the nameless charm
   That o'er each limb, in every action played,
   The softness of that voice, which could disarm
   The hand of fury of its deadly blade:
   In shining armour was the youth arrayed,
   And on his shield a bleeding heart he bore,
   His lofty crest light plumes of azure shade,
   There shone a wounded dragon bathed in gore,
  And bright with silver beamed the silken scarf he wore.

   His milk-white steed with glittering trappings blazed,
   Whose reins a beauteous boy attendant held,
   On the fair squire with wonder Psyche gazed,
   For scarce he seemed of age to bear the shield,
   Far less a ponderous lance, or sword to wield;
   Yet well this little page his lord had served,
   His youthful arm had many a foe repelled,
   His watchful eye from many a snare preserved,
  Nor ever from his steps in any danger swerved.

   Graced with the gift of a perpetual youth,
   No lapse of years had power his form to change;
   Constance was named the boy, whose matchless truth
   Though oft inticed with other lords to range,
   Nor fraud, nor force could from that knight estrange;
   His mantle of celestial blue was made,
   And its bright texture wrought with art so strange
   That the fresh brilliant gloss could never fade,
  And lustre yet unknown to Psyche's eyes displayed.

   Thus while she gazed, behold with horrid roar
   A lion from the neighbouring forest rushed,
   A golden chain around his neck he bore,
   Which richly glowing with carbuncles blushed,
   While his fierce eye-balls fiery rage had flushed:
   Forth steps the youth before the affrighted fair,
   Who in his mighty paw already crushed
   Seems in the terrors of her wild despair,
  And her mute quivering lips a death-like paleness wear.

   But scarce the kingly beast the knight beheld,
   When crouching low, submissive at his feet,
   His wrath extinguished, and his valour quelled,
   He seemed with reverence and obeisance sweet
   Him as his long acknowledged lord to greet.
   While, in acceptance of the new command,
   Well pleased the youth received the homage meet,
   Then seized the splendid chain with steady hand
  Full confident to rule, and every foe withstand.

   And, when at length recovered from her fear
   The timid Psyche mounts his docile steed,
   Much prayed, she tells to his attentive ear
   (As on her purposed journey they proceed)
   The doubtful course the oracle decreed:
   And how observant of her friendly guide,
   She still pursued its flight, with all the speed
   Her fainting strength had hitherto supplied:
  What pathless wilds she crossed! What forests darkling wide!

   Which having heard, the courteous knight began
   With counsel sweet to sooth her wounded heart;
   Divinely eloquent, persuasion ran
   The herald of his words ere they depart
   His lips, which well might confidence impart,
   As he revealed how he himself was bound
   By solemn vow, that neither force nor art
   His helmet should unloose, till he had found
  The bower of happiness, that long sought fairy ground.

   "I too (he said) divided from my love,
   "The offended power of Venus deprecate,
   "Like thee, through paths untrodden, sadly rove
   "In search of that fair spot prescribed by fate,
   "The blessed term of my afflicted state,
   "Where I the mistress of my soul shall find,
   "For whose dear sake no toil to me seems great,
   "Nor any dangers to my search assigned
  "Can from its purpose fright my ardent longing mind.

   "Psyche! thy soft and sympathising heart
   "Shall share the rapture of thy loyal knight;
   "He too, in thy content shall bear a part,
   "Blest witness of thy new restored delight;
   "My vows of true allegiance here I plight,
   "Ne'er to forsake thee till thy perils end,
   "Thy steps to guard, in thy protection fight,
    "By counsel aid, and by my arm defend,
  "And prove myself in all, thy champion and thy friend."

   So on they went, her cheerless heart revived
   By promised succour in her doubtful way;
   And much of hope she to herself derived,
   From the warm eagerness his lips display
   In their pursuit to suffer no delay:
   "And sure, (she softly sighed) my dearest Lord,
   "Thy watchful love still guides me as I stray,
   "Not chance alone could such an aid afford,
  "Lo! beasts of prey confess the heaven-assisted sword."

   Now from his crystal urn, with chilling hand,
   Vesper had sprinkled all the earth with dew,
   A misty veil obscured the neighbouring land,
   And shut the fading landscape from their view;
   A beaten path they eagerly pursue,
   (For now refreshment and repose they need
   As Psyche weary of long travel grew)
   Where by a river's bank it seemed to lead,
  Along its sinuous course they heedlessly proceed.

   At length the lordly beast that bore the knight
   Explored the river's depth with sudden bound:
   Psyche, who heard the plunge with strange affright,
   Her champion re-assured with welcome sound,
   That he the other bank had safely found;
   And, while he spoke, emerging from the shade,
   A joyous goodly train appear around,
   Of many a gallant youth and white robed maid,
  Who grateful welcome gave, and courteous greeting paid.

   Quick through the trees a thousand torches blazed
   The gloom to banish, and the scene disclose
   To Psyche all irresolute, amazed:
   A bridge with stately arch at distance rose,
   Thither at once the gay assembly goes,
   Not unattended by the charmed knight,
   Inviting Psyche to partake repose,
   Pointing where shone their bower illumined bright,
  Their bower so passing fair, the bower of loose Delight.

   At length with timid foot the bridge she past,
   And to her guardian knight clung fearfully,
   While many a doubting glance around she cast,
   If still her watchful dove she might espy;
   Feebly it seemed on labouring wing to fly,
   Till, dazzled by the sudden glare around,
   In painful trance is closed its dizzy eye,
   And had it not fair Psyche's bosom found,
  Its drooping pinion soon had touched the unhallowed ground.

   Hence there arose within her heart sore dread
   Which no alluring pleasure could dispel;
   The splendid hall with luscious banquet spread,
   The soft-breathed flutes which in sweet concert swell,
   With melody of song unspeakable;
   Nor the light dancing troop in roses drest,
   Could chase the terrors which she dared not tell,
   While fondly cherished in her anxious breast
  She strove in vain to sooth the fluttering bird to rest.

   On a soft downy couch the guests are placed,
   And close behind them stands their watchful page,
   But much his strict attendance there disgraced,
   And much was scorned his green and tender age,
   His calm fixed eye, and steady aspect sage:
   But him nor rude disdain, nor mockery,
   Nor soothing blandishments could e'er engage
   The wanton mazes of their sports to try,
  Or from his lord to turn his firm adhering eye.

   White bosomed nymphs around with loosened zones
   All on the guests obsequiously tend,
   Some sing of love with soft expiring tones,
   While Psyche's melting eyes the strain commend;
   Some o'er their heads the canopy suspend,
   Some hold the sparkling bowl, while some with skill
   Ambrosial showers and balmy juices blend,
   Or the gay lamps with liquid odours fill
  Whose many coloured fires divinest sweets distil.

   And now a softer light they seemed to shed,
   And sweetest music ushered in their queen:
   Her languid steps by winged boys are led,
   Who in their semblance might have Cupids been;
   Close wrapt in veils her following train was seen;
   Herself looked lovely in her loose attire,
   Her smiling eyes gave lustre to the scene,
   And still, where'er they turned their wanton fire,
  Each thrilling nerve confessed the rapture they inspire.

   The stranger guests she viewed with welcome glad,
   And crowned the banquet with reception sweet,
   To fill the glowing bowl her nymphs she bad,
   And graceful rising from her splendid seat
   She would herself present the sparkling treat;
   When lo! the dove alarmed with sudden start,
   Spurned the bright cup and dashed it at her feet,
   For well he knew ‘twas mixed with treacherous art
  To sting his Psyche's breast with agonizing smart.

   Regardless of her supplicating tears
   Each eye with vengeful rage the insult sees,
   Her knight's protection now in vain appears;
   The offended sovereign anxious to appease,
   A thousand hands prepare the dove to seize:
   Nor was this all, for as the tumult rose,
   Sudden more thick than swarm of summer bees,
   The secret dens their venomed hoards disclose,
  And horror at the sight her vital spirits froze.

   Hissing aloud with undulations dire,
   Their forked tongues unnumbered serpents show,
   Their tainted breath emitting poisonous fire,
   All turn on Psyche as their mortal foe;
   But he, whose arm was never weak or slow,
   Now rushed before her with resistless spring,
   On either side the oft-repeated blow
   Repulsed the malice of their deadly sting,
  While sparks of wrathful fire from their fierce jaws they fling.

   "Fly, Psyche! these are slander's hellish brood!
   "Contest I know is vain," her champion cried.
   Her passage now the opposing train withstood;
   Struck with disgust their hideous forms she spied,
   For lo! each silken veil is thrown aside,
   And foul deformity, and filth obscene,
   With monstrous shapes appear on every side;
   But vanished is their fair and treacherous queen,
  And with her every charm that decked the enchanted scene.

   Meanwhile the dove had soared above their reach,
   But hovered still in anxious Psyche's sight,
   Precursor of escape, it seemed to teach
   Whither she safest might direct her flight,
   And find a passport in her foes' despite;
   One rugged path there lay with briars o'ergrown,
   Then dark and dismal with the shades of night,
   Thither the dove on rapid wing had flown,
  Conspicuous mid the gloom its silver plumage shone.

   Yet she delayed, o'ercome by terror's power,
   And scarce her fainting form the knight could shield,
   When lo! still active in the trying hour,
   Constance rushed fearless through the dreadful field,
   With breast-plate firm invulnerably steeled,
   He heeded not the storms which round him press,
   To any perils he disdained to yield,
   Endued with prudence as with hardiness,
  And ever skilled to bring due succour in distress.

   Lo! swift returning on his master's steed,
   In his right hand he held the lion's chain,
   The mighty beast his gentleness could lead,
   Though little used to bear the curb or rein,
   And mid those groves accustomed to remain,
   Yet now prepared, with sweet submissive grace,
   He ready stands the knight to bear again,
   While trembling Psyche on the steed they place,
  Which swift as lightning flies far from the dreadful chase.

   Rough was the rude wild way, and many a thorn
   Tore her loose garments in their rapid flight,
   O'er many a league the panting fair is borne,
   Till now, emerging from the shades of night,
   The grey-eyed morn stole forth her pallid light.
   Then first she paused, unable to proceed,
   Exhausted with fatigue, and pain, and fright.
   "Turn, Psyche," cried the youth, "relax thy speed,
  "And see thyself at length from thy pursuers freed."

   Mid the thick forest was a lonely dell,
   Where foot of man was seldom known to tread,
   The sloping hills all round in graceful swell
   The little green with woods environed;
   Hither the dove their passive course had led:
   Here the thin smoke blue rising mid the trees,
   Where broad and brown the deepest umbrage spread,
   Spoke the abode of safe retired ease,
  And Psyche gladly there her dove descending sees.

   In lowly cottage, walled with mossy sod,
   Close by a little spring's perpetual rill,
   A hermit dwelt, who many a year had trod
   With sacred solitude that pine-clad hill,
   And loved with holy images to fill
   His soul enrapt; yet courteous then besought
   A while secluded here to rest; and still
   Replete with kind and hospitable thought,
  To a sequestered bower the wearied Psyche brought.

   Skilled in the virtue of each healing flower,
   And the wild fruit's restoring juice to blend,
   He spreads the frugal fare of wholesome power,
   And heedfully his cares their wants attend;
   A docile ear to his advice they lend,
   And sage instruction from his precepts take,
   Which much their future journey may befriend;
   Wisdom with soothing eloquence he spake,
  Pleased to resolve their doubts, and all their cares partake.

   In those sweet placid scenes awhile they rest,
   Till Psyche finds her fainting strength revive;
   And here her dove, as in a quiet nest,
   Delighted seems to sportive joy alive;
   And hence they surest confidence derive.
   He plumes his wings, and through his swelling throat
   (No more a ruffled, fearful fugitive)
   In gentle murmurs pours his dulcet note,
  While Psyche listening sits in some still vale remote.

   Oh! have you never known the silent charm
   That undisturbed retirement yields the soul,
   Where no intruder might your peace alarm,
   And tenderness hath wept without control,
   While melting fondness o'er the bosom stole?
   Did fancy never, in some lonely grove,
   Abridge the hours which must in absence roll?
   Those pensive pleasures did you never prove,
  Oh, you have never loved! you know not what is love!

   They do not love who can to these prefer
   The tumult of the gay, or folly's roar;
   The Muse they know not; nor delight in her
   Who can the troubled soul to rest restore,
   Calm contemplation: Yes, I must deplore
   Their joyless state, even more than his who mourns
   His love for ever lost; delight no more
   Unto his widowed heart indeed returns,
  Yet, while he weeps, his soul their cold indifference spurns.

   But if soft hope illumines fancy's dream,
   Assuring him of love and constancy,
   How exquisite do then the moments seem
   When he may hide himself from every eye,
   And cherish the dear thought in secrecy!
   While sweet remembrance sooths his thrilling heart,
   And brings once more past hours of kindness nigh,
   Recals the look of love when forced to part,
  And turns to drops of joy the tears that sadly start.

   Forgetful of the dangers of her way,
   Imagination oft would Psyche bear
   To her long travel's end, and that blest day
   When Love unveiled should to her eyes appear;
   When she might view his charms exempt from fear,
   Taste his pure kisses, feel his balmy sighs,
   Rest in the fond embrace of arms so dear,
   Gaze with soft rapture on his melting eyes,
  And hear his voice divine, the music of the skies!

   Their destined course impatient to achieve,
   The knight is urgent onward to proceed:
   Cheered with recruited strength they take their leave
   Of their kind host, and pay their grateful meed
   Of warmest thanks sincere; onward they speed
   Their sunless journey long through forests green,
   And tangled thickets rank with many a weed;
   And when at closing day a hut is seen,
  They seek the humble roof, nor scorn its welcome mean.

   It happened once that early roused from sleep,
   (Ere her damp veil the virgin morn had cast
   From her pale face, not yet with blushes deep
   Lovely suffused, as when approaching fast
   His herald star proclaims her spouse at last)
   Psyche forsaking soon her homely bed,
   Alone had fearless the low threshold past,
   And, to beguile the hours which lingering fled,
  Light o'er the dewy plain walked forth with nimble tread.

   Yet though the knight close wrapt in slumber lay,
   Her steps, at distance, still the page pursued,
   Fearful that danger might befal her way,
   Or lest, entangled in the mazy wood,
   Returning she should miss the pathway rude.
   The lark now hails the sun with rapturous song,
   The cheerful earth resounds with gratitude,
   O'er the gay scene, as Psyche tript along,
  She felt her spirits rise, her lightened heart grow strong.

   And hark, soft music steals upon the ear!
   ‘Tis woman's voice most exquisitely sweet!
   Behold two female forms approaching near
   Arrest with wonder Psyche's timid feet;
   On a gay car, by speckled panthers fleet
   Is drawn in gallant state a seeming queen,
   And at her foot on low but graceful seat
   A gentle nymph of lovely form is seen,
  In robe of fairest white, with scarf of pleasant green.

   In strains of most bewitching harmony,
   And still adapted to her sovereign's praise,
   She filled the groves with such sweet melody,
   That, quite o'ercome with rapture and amaze,
   Psyche stood listening to the warbled lays;
   Yet with a sullen, scarce approving ear
   Her mistress sits, but with attentive gaze,
   Her eyes she fixes on a mirror clear
  Where still by fancy's spell unrivalled charms appear.

   And, as she looked with aspect ever new,
   She seemed on change and novel grace intent,
   Her robe was formed of ever varying hue,
   And whimsically placed each ornament;
   On her attire, with rich luxuriance spent,
   The treasures of the earth, the sea, the air,
   Are vainly heaped her wishes to content;
   Yet were her arms and snowy bosom bare,
  And both in painted pride shone exquisitely fair.

   Her braided tresses in profusion drest,
   Circled with diadem, and nodding plumes,
   Sported their artful ringlets o'er her breast,
   And to the breezes gave their rich perfumes;
   Her cheek with tint of borrowed roses blooms:
   Used to receive from all rich offerings,
   She quaffs with conscious right the fragrant fumes
   Which her attendant from a censer flings,
  Who graceful feeds the flame with incense while she sings.

   Soon as her glance fair Psyche's form had caught,
   Her soft attendant smiling she addressed:
   "Behold, Lusinga! couldst thou e'er have thought
   "That these wild woods were so in beauty blest?
   "Let but that nymph in my attire be drest
   "And scarce her loveliness will yield to mine!
   "At least invite her in our bower to rest,
   "Before her eyes let all my splendor shine,
  "Perhaps to dwell with us her heart we may incline."

   With softest smile applauding all she heard,
   Lusinga bowing left her golden seat,
   And Psyche, who at first in doubt had feared
   While listening to the lay so silver sweet,
   Now passive followed with unconscious feet;
   Till Constance, all alarmed, impatient flew,
   And soft his whispers of the maid entreat
   To fly the Syren's song, for well he knew
  What lurking dangers hence would to his Lord ensue.

   "Oh, do not trust her treacherous lips," he cried,
   "She is the subtle slave of Vanity,
   "Her queen, the child of folly, and of pride,
   "To lure thee to her power each art will try,
   "Nor ever will release thee peaceably."
   He spoke, but spoke in vain, for lo! from far,
   Of giant port they fast approaching spy
   A knight, high mounted on a glittering car,
  From whose conspicuous crest flames wide a dazzling star.

   "Psyche, escape! Ambition is at hand!"
   The page exclaims: while swift as thought he flies;
   She would have followed, but with parley bland
   Lusinga soon her terrors pacifies.
   "Fair nymph, ascend my car," the sovereign cries,
   "I will convey thee where thy wishes lead,
   "Haply the safest course I may advise
   "How thou thy journey mayst perform with speed;
  "For ne'er in woods to dwell such beauty was decreed."

   So gently urgent her consent they wooed
   With much persuasion of the stranger knight,
   That yielding Psyche now no more withstood,
   But pointing out to her observant sight
   The humble cot where she had passed the night,
   She prayed her kind conductress there to turn,
   And promised to herself what vast delight
   Her wondering knight would feel at her return,
  And with what blushing shame the timid page would burn.

   But scarcely had she climbed the fatal car
   When swifter than the wind the panthers flew,
   The traversed plains and woods, receding far,
   Soon shut from trembling Psyche's anxious view
   The spot where she had left her guardian true;
   With desperate efforts, all in vain she tries
   To escape the ills which now too sure she knew
   Must from her ill-placed confidence arise:
  Betrayed--Ah! self-betrayed, a wretched sacrifice.

   She strove to quit the car with sudden bound,
   Ah, vain attempt! she now perceived too late
   A thousand silken trammels, subtly wound
   O'er her fair form, detained her as she sate:
   Lost in despair she yields to her sad fate,
   And silent hears but with augmented fright
   The queen describe her brother's splendid state,
   Who now outstripped them by his rapid flight,
  And prest his foaming steeds to gain the arduous height.

   High o'er the spacious plain a mountain rose,
   A stately castle on its summit stood:
   Huge craggy cliffs behind their strength oppose
   To the rough surges of the dashing flood;
   The rocky shores a boldly rising wood
   On either side conceals; bright shine the towers
   And seem to smile upon the billows rude.
   In front the eye, with comprehensive powers,
  Sees wide extended plains enriched with splendid bowers.

   Hither they bore the sad reluctant fair,
   Who mounts with dizzy eye the awful steep;
   The blazing structure seems high poised in air,
   And its light pillars tremble o'er the deep:
   As yet the heavens are calm, the tempests sleep,
   She knows not half the horrors of her fate:
   Nor feels the approaching ruin's whirlwind sweep:
   Yet with ill-boding fears she past the gate,
  And turned with sickening dread from scenes of gorgeous state.

   In vain the haughty master of the hall
   Invites her to partake his regal throne,
   With cold indifference she looks on all
   The gilded trophies, and the well-wrought stone
   Which in triumphal arches proudly shone:
   And as she casts around her timid eye,
   Back to her knight her trembling heart is flown,
   And many an anxious wish, and many a sigh
  Invokes his gallant arm protection to supply.

   Sudden the lurid heavens obscurely frown,
   And sweeping gusts the coming storm proclaim;
   Flattery's soft voice the howling tempests drown,
   While the roofs catch the greedy lightning's flame.
   Loud in their fears, the attendant train exclaim
   The light built fabric ne'er can stand the blast,
   And all its insecure foundations blame:
   Tumultuously they rush: the chief aghast
  Beholds his throne o'erturned, his train dispersing fast.

   Psyche dismayed, yet thoughtful of escape,
   In anxious silence to the portal prest;
   And freedom would have hailed in any shape
   Though seen in death's tremendous colours drest:
   But ah! she feels the knight's strong grasp arrest
   Her trembling steps. "Think not," he cries, "to fly
   "With yon false crowd who by my favours blest,
   "Can now desert me when with changeful eye
  "Inclement fortune frowns from yon dark angry sky."

   While yet he spoke loud bursts the groaning hall,
   With frightful peal the thundering domes resound,
   Disjointed columns in wild ruin fall,
   While the huge arches tremble to the ground.
   Yet unappalled amid the crush is found
   The daring chief: his hold he firm maintains
   Though hideous devastation roars around;
   Plunged headlong down his prey he still sustains,
  Who in his powerful grasp in death-like swoon remains.

   Down sinks the palace with its mighty lord,
   Hurled from the awful steep with vehemence
   Even to the floods below, which angry roared
   And gaping wide received the weight immense:
   Indignant still, with fearless confidence
   He rose, high mounting o'er the heaving waves;
   Against their rage one arm is his defence,
   The other still his lovely burden saves,
  Though strong the billows beat, and fierce the tempest raves.

   The blazing star yet shone upon his brow,
   And flamed triumphant o'er the dashing main;
   He rides secure the watery waste, and now
   The sheltering shore he might in safety gain;
   The sheltering shore he shuns with proud disdain,
   And breasts the adverse tide. Ah, rash resource!
   Yon vessel, Prince, thou never shalt attain!
   For plunging ‘mid the deep, with generous force,
  See where the lion's lord pursues thy hardy course!

   Psyche a well known voice to life restores,
   Once more her eyes unclosing view the light,
   But not the waters, nor receding shores,
   One only object can arrest her sight,
   High o'er the flood she sees her valiant knight,
   And sudden joy, and hopes scarce trusted cheer
   Even in that awful moment's dread affright;
   Her feeble cry indeed he cannot hear,
  But sees her out-stretched arms, and seems already near.

   In vain the giant knight exerts his strength;
   Urged by the impetuous youth the lion prest,
   And gaining fast upon his flight, at length
   Prepared his daring progress to arrest,
   And seized with furious jaw his struggling breast;
   Gasping he loosed his hold--and Psyche lost
   The o'erwhelming wave with ruin had opprest,
   But Constance, ever near when needed most,
  The sinking beauty caught and bore her to the coast.

   Stung with the shame of the relinquished prey,
   Mad with revenge, and hate, and conscious pride,
   The knight, recovered from his short dismay,
   Dashes resistless through the foaming tide;
   The billows yielding to his arm divide,
   As rushing on the youth he seeks the shore;
   But now a combat strange on either side
   Amid the waves begins; each hopes no more
  The engulphing deep his foe shall e'er to light restore.

   Beside the cold inhospitable lands
   Where suns long absent dawn with lustre pale,
   Thus on his bark the bold Biscayen stands,
   And bids his javelin rouse the parent whale:
   Fear, pain, and rage at once her breast assail,
   The agitated ocean foams around
   Lashed by the sounding fury of her tail,
   Or as she mounts the surge with frightful bound,
  Wide echoing to her cries the bellowing shores resound.

   Fierce was the contest, but at length subdued,
   The youth exulting sees his giant foe.
   With wonder still the enormous limbs he viewed
   Which lifeless now the waves supporting show;
   His starred helm, that now was first laid low,
   He seized as trophy of the wonderous fight,
   And bade the sparkling gem on Constance glow,
   While Psyche's eyes, soft beaming with delight,
  Through tears of grateful praise applaud her gallant knight.

   Full gladsome was my heart ere while to tell
   How proud Ambition owned superior Love;
   For ah! too oft his sterner power could quell
   The mild affections which more gently move,
   And rather silent fled than with him strove;
   For Love content and tranquil saw with dread
   The busy scenes Ambition's schemes approve,
   And, by the hand of Peace obscurely led,
  From pride of public life disgusted ever fled.

   There are who know not the delicious charm
   Of sympathising hearts; let such employ
   Their active minds; the trumpet's loud alarm
   Shall yield them hope of honourable joy,
   And courts may lure them with each splendid toy;
   But ne'er may vanity or thirst of fame
   The dearer bliss of loving life destroy!
   Oh! blind to man's chief good who Love disclaim,
  And barter pure delight for glory's empty name!

   Blest Psyche! thou hast ‘scaped the tyrants power!
   Thy gentle heart shall never know the pain
   Which tortures pride in his most prosperous hour:
   Yet dangers still unsung for thee remain;
   Nor must thou unmolested hope to gain
   Immortal beauty's never failing spring;
   Oh! no--nor yet tranquillity attain:
   But though thy heart the pangs of doubt may sting,
  Thy faithful knight shall yet thy steps in safety bring.

   Warned by late peril now she scarcely dares
   Quit for one moment his protecting eye:
   Sure in his sight, her soul of nought despairs,
   And nought looks dreadful when that arm is nigh
   On which her hopes with confidence rely;
   By his advice their constant course they bend,
   He points where hidden danger they should fly,
   On him securely, as her heaven-sent friend,
  She bids her grateful heart contentedly depend.

   Oh! who the exquisite delight can tell,
   The joy which mutual confidence imparts!
   Or who can paint the charm unspeakable
   Which links in tender bands two faithful hearts?
   In vain assailed by fortune's envious darts,
   Their mitigated woes are sweetly shared,
   And doubled joy reluctantly departs:
   Let but the sympathising heart be spared,
  What sorrow seems not light, what peril is not dared?

   Oh! never may suspicion's gloomy sky
   Chill the sweet glow of fondly trusting love!
   Nor ever may he feel the scowling eye
   Of dark distrust his confidence reprove!
   In pleasing error may I rather rove,
   With blind reliance on the hand so dear,
   Than let cold prudence from my eyes remove
   Those sweet delusions, where nor doubt nor fear
  Nor foul disloyalty nor cruel change appear.

   The noble mind is ever prone to trust;
   Yet love with fond anxiety is joined;
   And timid tenderness is oft unjust;
   The coldness which it dreads too prompt to find,
   And torture the too susceptible mind.
   Hence rose the gloom which oft o'er Psyche stole
   Lest he she loved, unmindful or unkind,
   Should careless slight affection's soft control,
  Or she long absent lose her influence o'er his soul.

   ‘Twas evening, and the shades which sudden fell
   Seemed to forebode a dark unlovely night;
   The sighing wood-nymphs from their caves foretel
   The storm which soon their quiet shall affright:
   Nor cheering star nor moon appears in sight,
   Nor taper twinkles through the rustling leaves
   And sheds afar its hospitable light:
   But hark! a dismal sound the ear receives,
  And through the obscuring gloom the eye strange forms perceives.

   It was a helpless female who exclaimed,
   Whose blind and aged form an ass sustained:
   Misshaped and timorous, of light ashamed,
   In darksome woods her hard-earned food she gained,
   And her voracious appetite maintained,
   Though all devouring, yet unsatisfied;
   Nor aught of hard digestion she disdained,
   Whate'er was offered greedily she tried,
  And meanly served, as slave, whoever food supplied.

   A cruel monster now her steps pursued,
   Well known of yore and named the Blatant Beast;
   And soon he seized his prey with grasp so rude,
   So fiercely on her feeble body prest,
   That had the courteous knight not soon released
   Her unresisting limbs from violence,
   She must have sunk by his rough jaws opprest:
   The spiteful beast, enraged at the defence,
  Now turned upon the knight with foaming vehemence.

   But, when his fury felt the couched spear,
   On Psyche's unarmed form he bellowing flew;
   ‘Twas there alone the knight his rage could fear;
   Swifter than thought his flaming sword he drew,
   And from his hand the doubtful javelin threw
   Lest erring it might wound the trembling fair:
   Eager the cruel monster to subdue
   He scorned to use his shield's protecting care,
  And rashly left his side in part exposed and bare.

   Sharp were the wounds of his avenging steel,
   Which forced the roaring beast to quit the field:
   Yet ere he fled, the knight unused to feel
   The power of any foe, or e'er to yield
   To any arm which sword or spear could wield,
   Perceived the venom of his tooth impure;
   But, with indignant silence, unrevealed
   The pain he bore, while through the gloom obscure
  The beast, in vain pursued, urged on his flight secure.

   And now the hag, delivered from her fear,
   Her grateful thanks upon the knight bestowed,
   And, as they onward went, in Psyche's ear
   Her tongue with many a horrid tale o'erflowed,
   Which warned her to forsake that venturous road,
   And seek protection in the neighbouring grove;
   Where dwelt a prudent dame, who oft bestowed
   Her sage advice, when pilgrims doomed to rove,
  Benighted there, had else with lurking dangers strove.

   The knight now softly bade his charge beware,
   Nor trust Credulity whom well he knew:
   Yet he himself, harassed with pain and care,
   And heedful of the storm which fiercer grew,
   Yielded, a path more sheltered to pursue:
   Now soon entangled in a gloomy maze
   Psyche no longer has her knight in view,
   Nor sees his page's star-crowned helmet blaze;
  Close at her side alone the hag loquacious stays.

   Fearful she stops, and calls aloud in vain,
   The storm-roused woods roar only in reply;
   Anxious her loved protector to regain
   She trembling listens to Credulity,
    Who points where they a glimmering light may spy;
   Which, through the shade of intervening trees
   And all the misty blackness of the sky,
   Casting a weak and dubious ray she sees,
  And fain by this would seek her terrors to appease.

   Yet hoping that, allured by that same light
   Which singly seemed through all the gloom to shine,
   She there at last might meet her wandering knight,
   Thither her footsteps doubtingly incline
   As best the uncertain path they could divine,
   All tangled as it wound through brake and briar:
   While to affright her soul at once combine
   A thousand shapeless forms of terror dire,
  Here shrieks the ill-omened bird, there glares the meteor's fire.

   In the deep centre of the mazy wood,
   With matted ivy and wild vine o'ergrown,
   A Gothic castle solitary stood,
   With massive walls built firm of murky stone;
   Long had Credulity its mistress known,
   Meagre her form and tawny was her hue,
   Unsociably she lived, unloved, alone,
   No cheerful prospects gladdened e'er her view,
  And her pale hollow eyes oblique their glances threw.

   Now had they reached the sad and dreary bower
   Where dark Disfida held her gloomy state:
   The grated casements strong with iron power,
   The huge port-cullis creaking o'er the gate,
   The surly guards that round the draw-bridge wait,
   Chill Psyche's heart with sad foreboding fears;
   Nor ever had she felt so desolate
   As when at length her guide the porter hears,
  And at the well know