Act 3 — FIRST QUARTER

SPRING

PSYCHE'S EARTHLY PARENTAGE · WORSHIPPED BY MEN · & PERSECUTED BY APHRODITE · SHE IS LOVED & CARRIED OFF BY EROS

MARCH

1 In midmost length of hundred-citied Crete, The land that cradl'd Zeus, of old renown, Where grave Demeter nurseried her wheat, And Minos fashion'd law, ere he went down To judge the quaking hordes of Hell's domain, There dwelt a King on the Omphalian plain Eastward of Ida, in a little town.

2 Three daughters had this King, of whom my tale Time hath preserved, that loveth to despise The wealth which men misdeem of much avail, Their glories for themselves that they devise; For clerkly is he, old hard-featured Time, And poets' fabl'd song and lovers' rhyme He storeth on his shelves to please his eyes.

3 These three princesses all were fairest fair; And of the elder twain 'tis truth to say That if they stood not high above compare, Yet in their prime they bore the palm away; Outwards of loveliness; but Nature's mood, Gracious to make, had grudgingly endued And marr'd by gifting ill the beauteous clay.

4 And being in honour they were well content To feed on lovers' looks and courtly smiles, To hang their necks with jewel'd ornament, And gold, that vanity in vain beguiles, And live in gaze, and take their praise for due, To be the fairest maidens then to view Within the shores of Greece and all her isles.

5 But of that youngest one, the third princess, There is no likeness; since she was as far From pictured beauty as is ugliness, Though on the side where heavenly wonders are, Ideals out of being and above, Which music worshippeth, but if love love, 'Tis, as the poet saith, to love a star.

6 Her vision rather drave from passion's heart What earthly soil it had afore possest; Since to man's purer unsubstantial part The brightness of her presence was addrest: And such as mock'd at God, when once they saw Her heavenly glance, were humbl'd, and in awe Of things unseen, return'd to praise the Best.

7 And so before her, wheresoe'er she went, Hushing the crowd a thrilling whisper ran, And silent heads were reverently bent; Till from the people the belief began That Love's own mother had come down on earth, Sweet Cytherea, or of mortal birth A greater Goddess was vouchsaf't to man.

8 Then Aphrodite's statue in its place Stood without worshippers; if Cretans pray'd For beauty or for children, love or grace, The prayer and vow were offer'd to the maid; Unto the maid their hymns of praise were sung, Their victims bled for her, for her they hung Garland and golden gift, and none forbade.

9 And thence opinion spread beyond the shores, From isle to isle the wonder flew, it came Across the Ægæan on a thousand oars, Athens and Smyrna caught the virgin's fame; And East or West, where'er the tale had been, The adoration of the foam-born queen Fell to neglect, and men forgot her name.

10 No longer to high Paphos now 'twas sail'd; The fragrant altar by the Graces served At Cnidus was forsaken; pilgrims fail'd The rocky island to her name reserved, Proud Ephyra, and Meropis renown'd; 'Twas all for Crete her votaries were bound, And to the Cretan maid her worship swerved.

11 Which when in heaven great Aphrodite saw, Who is the breather of the year's bright morn, Fount of desire and beauty without flaw, Herself the life that doth the world adorn; Seeing that without her generative might Nothing can spring upon the shores of light, Nor any bud of joy or love be born;

12 She, when she saw the insult, did not hide Her indignation, that a mortal frail With her eterne divinity had vied, Her fair Hellenic empire to assail, For which she had fled the doom of Ninus old, And left her wanton images unsoul'd In Babylon and Zidon soon to fail.

13 'Not long,' she cried, 'shall that poor girl of Crete God it in my despite; for I will bring Such mischief on the sickly counterfeit As soon shall cure her tribe of worshipping: Her beauty will I mock with loathèd lust, Bow down her dainty spirit to the dust, And leave her long alive to feel the sting.'

14 With that she calls to her her comely boy, The limber scion of the God of War, The fruit adulterous, which for man's annoy To that fierce partner Cytherea bore, Eros, the ever young, who only grew In mischief, and was Cupid named anew In westering aftertime of latin lore.

15 What the first dawn of manhood is, the hour When beauty, from its fleshy bud unpent, Flaunts like the corol of a summer flower, As if all life were for that ornament, Such Eros seemed in years, a trifler gay, The prodigal of an immortal day For ever spending, and yet never spent.

16 His skin is brilliant with the nimble flood Of ichor, that comes dancing from his heart, Lively as fire, and redder than the blood, And maketh in his eyes small flashes dart, And curleth his hair golden, and distilleth Honey on his tongue, and all his body filleth With wanton lightsomeness in every part.

17 Naked he goeth, but with sprightly wings Red, iridescent, are his shoulders fledged. A bow his weapon, which he deftly strings, And little arrows barb'd and keenly edged; And these he shooteth true; but else the youth For all his seeming recketh naught of truth, But most deceiveth where he most is pledged.

18 'Tis he that maketh in men's heart a strife Between remorseful reason and desire, Till with life lost they lose the love of life, And by their own hands wretchedly expire; Or slain in bloody rivalries they miss Even the short embracement of their bliss, His smile of fury and his kiss of fire.

19 He makes the strong man weak, the weak man wild; Ruins great business and purpose high; Brings down the wise to folly reconciled, And martial captains on their knees to sigh: He changeth dynasties, and on the head Of duteous heroes, who for honour bled, Smircheth the laurel that can never die.

20 Him then she call'd, and gravely kissing told The great dishonour to her godhead done; And how, if he from that in heaven would hold, On earth he must maintain it as her son; The rather that his weapons were most fit, As was his skill ordain'd to champion it; And flattering thus his ready zeal she won.

21 Whereon she quickly led him down on earth, And show'd him PSYCHE, thus the maid was named; Whom when she show'd, but coud not hide her worth, She grew with envy tenfold more enflamed. 'But if,' she cried, 'thou smite her as I bid, Soon shall our glory of this affront be rid, And she and all her likes for ever shamed.

22 'Make her to love the loathliest, basest wretch, Deform'd in body, and of moonstruck mind, A hideous brute and vicious, born to fetch Anger from dogs and cursing from the blind. And let her passion for the monster be As shameless and detestable as he Is most extreme and vile of humankind.'

23 Which said, when he agreed, she spake no more, But left him to his task, and took her way Beside the ripples of the shell-strewn shore, The southward stretching margin of a bay, Whose sandy curves she pass'd, and taking stand Upon its taper horn of furthest land, Lookt left and right to rise and set of day.

24 Fair was the sight; for now, though full an hour The sun had sunk, she saw the evening light In shifting colour to the zenith tower, And grow more gorgeous ever and more bright. Bathed in the warm and comfortable glow, The fair delighted queen forgot her woe, And watch'd the unwonted pageant of the night.

25 Broad and low down, where late the sun had been A wealth of orange-gold was thickly shed, Fading above into a field of green, Like apples ere they ripen into red; Then to the height a variable hue Of rose and pink and crimson freak'd with blue, And olive-border'd clouds o'er lilac led.

26 High in the opposèd west the wondering moon All silvery green in flying green was fleec't; And round the blazing South the splendour soon Caught all the heaven, and ran to North and East; And Aphrodite knew the thing was wrought By cunning of Poseidon, and she thought She would go see with whom he kept his feast.

27 Swift to her wish came swimming on the waves His lovely ocean nymphs, her guides to be, The Nereids all, who live among the caves And valleys of the deep, Cymodocè, Agavè, blue-eyed Hallia and Nesæa, Speio, and Thoë, Glaucè and Actæa, Iaira, Melitè and Amphinomè,

28 Apseudès and Nemertès, Callianassa, Cymothoë, Thaleia, Limnorrhea, Clymenè, Ianeira and Ianassa, Doris and Panopè and Galatea, Dynamenè, Dexamenè and Maira, Ferusa, Doto, Proto, Callianeira, Amphithoë, Oreithuia and Amathea.

29 And after them sad Melicertes drave His chariot, that with swift unfellied wheel, By his two dolphins drawn along the wave, Flew as they plunged, yet did not dip nor reel, But like a plough that shears the heavy land Stood on the flood, and back on either hand O'erturn'd the briny furrow with its keel.

30 Behind came Tritons, that their conches blew, Greenbearded, tail'd like fish, all sleek and stark; And hippocampi tamed, a bristly crew, The browzers of old Proteus' weedy park, Whose chiefer Mermen brought a shell for boat, And balancing its hollow fan afloat, Push'd it to shore and bade the queen embark:

31 And then the goddess stept upon the shell Which took her weight; and others threw a train Of soft silk o'er her, that unfurl'd to swell In sails, at breath of flying Zephyrs twain; And all her way with foam in laughter strewn, With stir of music and of conches blown, Was Aphrodite launch'd upon the main.

APRIL

1 But fairest Psyche still in favour rose, Nor knew the jealous power against her sworn; And more her beauty now surpass't her foe's, Since 'twas transfigured by the spirit forlorn, That writeth, to the perfecting of grace, Immortal question in a mortal face, The vague desire whereunto man is born.

2 Already in good time her sisters both, Whose honest charms were never famed as hers, With princes of the isle had plighted troth, And gone to rule their foreign courtiers; But she, exalted evermore beyond Their loveliness, made yet no lover fond, And gain'd but number to her worshippers.

3 To joy in others' joy had been her lot, And now that that was gone she wept to see How her transcendent beauty overshot The common aim of all felicity. For love she sigh'd; and had some peasant rude For true love's sake in simple passion woo'd, Then Psyche had not scorn'd his wife to be.

4 For what is Beauty, if it doth not fire The loving answer of an eager soul? Since 'tis the native food of man's desire, And doth to good our varying world control; Which, when it was not, was for Beauty's sake Desired and made by Love, who still doth make A beauteous path thereon to Beauty's goal.

5 Should all men by some hateful venom die, The pity were that o'er the unpeopl'd sphere The sun would still bedeck the evening sky And the unimaginable hues appear, With none to mark the rose and gold and green; That Spring should walk the earth, and nothing seen Of her fresh delicacy year by year.

6 And if some beauteous things,—whose heavenly worth And function overpass our mortal sense,— Lie waste and unregarded on the earth By reason of our gross intelligence, These are not vain, because in nature's scheme It lives that we shall grow from dream to dream In time to gather an enchantment thence.

7 Even as we see the fairest works of men Awhile neglected, and the makers die; But Truth comes weeping to their graves, and then Their fames victoriously mounting high Do battle with the regnant names of eld, To win their seats; as when the Gods rebel'd Against their sires and drave them from the sky.

8 But to be praised for beauty and denied The meed of beauty, this was yet unknown: The best and bravest men have ever vied To win the fairest women for their own. Thus Psyche spake, or reason'd in her mind, Disconsolate; and with self-pity pined, In the deserted halls wandering alone.

9 And grievèd grew the King to see her woe: And blaming first the gods for her disease, He purposed to their oracle to go To question how he might their wrath appease, Or, if that might not be, the worst to hear,— Which is the last poor hope of them that fear.— So he took his ship upon the northern seas,

10 And journeying to the shrine of Delphi went, The temple of Apollo Pythian, Where when the god he question'd if 'twas meant That Psyche should be wed, and to what man, The tripod shook, and o'er the vaporous well The chanting Pythoness gave oracle, And thus in priestly verse the sentence ran:

11 High on the topmost rock with funeral feast Convey and leave the maid, nor look to find A mortal husband, but a savage beast, The viperous scourge of gods and humankind; Who shames and vexes all, and as he flies With sword and fire, Zeus trembles in the skies, And groans arise from souls to hell consigned.

12 With which reply the King return'd full sad: For though he nothing more might understand, Yet in the bitter bidding that he had No man made question of the plain command, That he must sacrifice the tender flower Of his own blood to a demonian power, Upon the rocky mount with his own hand.

13 Some said that she to Talos was devote, The metal giant, who with mile-long stride Cover'd the isle, walking around by rote Thrice every day at his appointed tide; Who shepherded the sea-goats on the coast, And, as he past, caught up and live would roast, Pressing them to his burning ribs and side:

14 Whose head was made of fine gold-beaten work Of silver pure his arms and gleaming chest, Thence of green-bloomèd bronze far as the fork, Of iron weather-rusted all the rest. One single vein he had, which running down From head to foot was open in his crown, And closèd by a nail; such was this pest.

15 A little while they spent in sad delay, Then order'd, as the oracle had said, The cold feast and funereal display Wherewith the fated bridal should be sped: And their black pageantry and vain despairing When Psyche saw, and for herself preparing The hopeless ceremonial of the dead,

16 Then spake she to the King and said 'O Sire, Why wilt thou veil those venerable eyes With piteous tears, which must of me require More tears again than for myself arise? Then, on the day my beauty first o'erstept Its mortal place it had been well to have wept; But now the fault beyond our ruing lies.

17 'As to be worship'd was my whole undoing, So my submission must the forfeit pay: And welcome were the morning of my wooing, Tho' after it should dawn no other day. Up to the mountain! for I hear the voice Of my belovèd on the winds, Rejoice, Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away!'

18 With such distemper'd speech, that little cheer'd Her mourning house, she went to choose with care The raiment for her day of wedlock weird, Her body as for burial to prepare; But laved with bridal water, from the stream Where Hera bathed; for still her fate supreme Was doubtful, whether Love or Death it were:

19 Love that is made of joy, and Death of fear: Nay, but not these held Psyche in suspense; Hers was the hope that following by the bier Boweth its head beneath the dark immense: Her fear the dread of life that turns to hide Its tragic tears, what hour the happy bride Ventures for love her maiden innocence.

20 They set on high upon the bridal wain Her bed for bier, and yet no corpse thereon; But like as when unto a warrior slain And not brought home the ceremonies done Are empty, for afar his body brave Lies lost, deep buried by the wandering wave Or 'neath the foes his fury fell upon,—

21 So was her hearse: and with it went afore, Singing the solemn dirge that moves to tears, The singers; and behind, clad as for war, The King uncrown'd among his mournful peers, All 'neath their armour robed in linen white; And in their left were shields, and in their right Torches they bore aloft instead of spears.

22 And next the virgin tribe in white forth sail'd, With wreaths of dittany; and 'midst them there Went Psyche, all in lily-whiteness veil'd, The white Quince-blossom chapleting her hair: And last the common folk, a weeping crowd, Far as the city-gates with wailings loud Follow'd the sad procession in despair.

23 Thus forth and up the mount they went, until The funeral chariot must be left behind, Since road was none for steepness of the hill; And slowly by the narrow path they wind: All afternoon their white and scatter'd file Toil'd on distinct, ascending many a mile Over the long brown slopes and crags unkind.

24 But ere unto the snowy peak they came Of that stormshapen pyramid so high, 'Twas evening, and with footsteps slow and lame They gather'd up their lagging company: And then her sire, even as Apollo bade, Set on the topmost rock the hapless maid, With trembling hands and melancholy cry.

25 And now the sun was sunk; only the peak Flash'd like a jewel in the deepening blue: And from the shade beneath none dared to speak, But all look'd up, where glorified anew Psyche sat islanded in living day. Breathless they watcht her, till the last red ray Fled from her lifted arm that waved adieu.

26 There left they her, turning with sad farewells To haste their homeward course, as best they might: But night was crowding up the barren fells, And hid full soon their rocky path from sight; And each unto his stumbling foot to hold His torch was fain, for o'er the moon was roll'd A mighty cloud from heaven, to blot her light.

27 And thro' the darkness for long while was seen That armour'd train with waving fires to thread Downwards, by pass, defile, and black ravine, Each leading on the way that he was led. Slowly they gain'd the plain, and one by one Into the shadows of the woods were gone, Or in the clinging mists were quench'd and fled.

28 But unto Psyche, pondering o'er her doom In tearful silence on her stony chair, A Zephyr straying out of heaven's wide room Rush'd down, and gathering round her unaware Fill'd with his breath her vesture and her veil; And like a ship, that crowding all her sail Leans to accompany the tranquil air,

29 She yielded, and was borne with swimming brain And airy joy, along the mountain side, Till, hid from earth by ridging summits twain, They came upon a valley deep and wide; Where the strong Zephyr with his burden sank, And laid her down upon a grassy bank, 'Mong thyme and violets and daisies pied.

30 And straight upon the touch of that sweet bed Both woe and wonder melted fast away: And sleep with gentle stress her sense o'erspread, Gathering as darkness doth on drooping day: And nestling to the ground, she slowly drew Her wearied limbs together, and, ere she knew, Wrapt in forgetfulness and slumber lay.

MAY 1 After long sleep when Psyche first awoke Among the grasses 'neath the open skies, And heard the mounting larks, whose carol spoke Delighted invitation to arise, She lay as one who after many a league Hath slept off memory with his long fatigue, And waking knows not in what place he lies:

2 Anon her quickening thought took up its task, And all came back as it had happ'd o'ernight; The sad procession of the wedding mask, The melancholy toiling up the height, The solitary rock where she was left; And thence in dark and airy waftage reft, How on the flowers she had been disburden'd light.

3 Thereafter she would rise and see what place That voyage had its haven in, and found She stood upon a little hill, whose base Shelved off into the valley all around; And all round that the steep cliffs rose away, Save on one side where to the break of day The widening dale withdrew in falling ground.

4 There, out from over sea, and scarce so high As she, the sun above his watery blaze Upbroke the grey dome of the morning sky, And struck the island with his level rays; Sifting his gold thro' lazy mists, that still Climb'd on the shadowy roots of every hill, And in the tree-tops breathed their silvery haze.

5 At hand on either side there was a wood; And on the upward lawn, that sloped between, Not many paces back a temple stood, By even steps ascending from the green; With shaft and pediment of marble made, It fill'd the passage of the rising glade, And there withstay'd the sun in dazzling sheen.

6 Too fair for human art, so Psyche thought, It might the fancy of some god rejoice; Like to those halls which lame Hephæstos wrought, Original, for each god to his choice, In high Olympus; where his matchless lyre Apollo wakes, and the responsive choir Of Muses sing alternate with sweet voice.

7 Wondering she drew anigh, and in a while Went up the steps as she would entrance win, And faced her shadow 'neath the peristyle Upon the golden gate, whose flanges twin— As there she stood, irresolute at heart To try—swung to her of themselves apart; Whereat she past between and stood within.

8 A foursquare court it was with marble floor'd, Embay'd about with pillar'd porticoes, That echo'd in a somnolent accord The music of a fountain, which arose Sparkling in air, and splashing in its tank; Whose wanton babble, as it swell'd or sank, Gave idle voice to silence and repose.

9 Thro' doors beneath the further colonnade, Like a deep cup's reflected glooms of gold, The inner rooms glow'd with inviting shade: And, standing in the court, she might behold Cedar, and silk, and silver; and that all The pargeting of ceiling and of wall Was fresco'd o'er with figures manifold.

10 Then making bold to go within, she heard Murmur of gentle welcome in her ear; And seeing none that coud have spoken word, She waited: when again Lady, draw near; Enter! was cried; and now more voices came From all the air around calling her name, And bidding her rejoice and have no fear.

11 And one, if she would rest, would show her bed, Pillow'd for sleep, with fragrant linen fine; One, were she hungry, had a table spread Like as the high gods have it when they dine: Or, would she bathe, were those would heat the bath; The joyous cries contending in her path, Psyche, they said, What wilt thou? all is thine.

12 Then Psyche would have thank'd their service true, But that she fear'd her echoing words might scare Those sightless tongues; and well by dream she knew The voices of the messengers of prayer, Which fly upon the gods' commandment, when They answer the supreme desires of men, Or for a while in pity hush their care.

13 'Twas fancy's consummation, and because She would do joy no curious despite, She made no wonder how the wonder was; Only concern'd to take her full delight. So to the bath,—what luxury could be Better enhanced by eyeless ministry?— She follows with the voices that invite.

14 There being deliciously refresht, from soil Of earth made pure by water, fire, and air, They clad her in soft robes of Asian toil, Scented, that in her queenly wardrobe were; And led her forth to dine, and all around Sang as they served, the while a choral sound Of strings unseen and reeds the burden bare.

15 P athetic strains and passionate they wove, U rgent in ecstasies of heavenly sense; R esponsive rivalries, that, while they strove C ombined in full harmonious suspense, E ntrancing wild desire, then fell at last L ull'd in soft closes, and with gay contrast L aunch'd forth their fresh unwearied excellence.

16 Now Psyche, when her twofold feast was o'er, Would feed her eye; and choosing for her guide A low-voiced singer, bade her come explore The wondrous house; until on every side As surfeited with beauty, and seeing nought But what was rich and fair beyond her thought, And all her own, thus to the voice she cried:

17 'Am I indeed a goddess, or is this But to be dead: and through the gates of death Passing unwittingly doth man not miss Body nor memory nor living breath; Nor by demerits of his deeds is cast, But, paid with the desire he holdeth fast, Is holp with all his heart imagineth?'

18 But her for all reply the wandering tongue Call'd to the chamber where her bed was laid With flower'd broideries of linen hung: And round the walls in painting were portray'd Love's victories over the gods renown'd. Ares and Aphrodite here lay bound In the fine net that dark Hephæstus made:

19 Here Zeus, in likeness of a tawny bull, Stoop'd on the Cretan shore his mighty knee, While off his back Europa beautiful Stept pale against the blue Carpathian sea; And here Apollo, as he caught amazed Daphne, for lo! her hands shot forth upraised In leaves, her feet were rooted like a tree:

20 Here Dionysos, springing from his car At sight of Ariadne; here uplept Adonis to the chase, breaking the bar Of Aphrodite's arm for love who wept: He spear in hand, with leashèd dogs at strain; A marvellous work. But Psyche soon grown fain Of rest, betook her to her bed and slept.

21 Nor long had slept, when at a sudden stir She woke; and one, that thro' the dark made way, Drew near, and stood beside; and over her The curtain rustl'd. Trembling now she lay, Fainting with terror: till upon her face A kiss, and with two gentle arms' embrace, A voice that call'd her name in loving play.

22 Though for the darkness she coud nothing see, She wish'd not then for what the night denied: This was the lover she had lack'd, and she, Loving his loving, was his willing bride. O'erjoy'd she slept again, o'erjoy'd awoke At break of morn upon her love to look; When lo! his empty place lay by her side.

23 So all that day she spent in company Of the soft voices; and Of right, they said, Art thou our Lady now. Be happily Thy bridal morrow by thy servants sped. But she but long'd for night, if that might bring Her lover back; and he on secret wing Came with the dark, and in the darkness fled.

24 And this was all her life; for every night He came, and though his name she never learn'd, Nor was his image yielded to her sight At morn or eve, she neither look'd nor yearn'd Beyond her happiness: and custom brought An ease to pleasure; nor would Psyche's thought Have ever to her earthly home return'd,

25 But that one night he said 'Psyche, my soul, Sad danger threatens us: thy sisters twain Come to the mountain top, whence I thee stole, And thou wilt hear their voices thence complain. Answer them not: for it must end our love If they should hear or spy thee from above.' And Psyche said 'Their cry shall be in vain.'

26 But being again alone, she thought 'twas hard On her own blood; and blamed her joy as thief Of theirs, her comfort which their comfort barr'd; When she their care might be their care's relief. All day she brooded on her father's woe, And when at night her lover kisst her, lo! Her tender face was wet with tears of grief.

27 Then question'd why she wept, she all confest; And begg'd of him she might but once go nigh To set her sire's and sisters' fears at rest; Till he for pity coud not but comply: 'Only if they should ask thee of thy love Discover nothing to their ears above.' And Psyche said 'In vain shall be their cry.'

28 And yet with day no sooner was alone, Than she for loneliness her promise rued: That having so much pleasure for her own, 'Twas all unshared and spent in solitude. And when at night her love flew to his place, More than afore she shamed his fond embrace, And piteously with tears her plaint renew'd.

29 The more he now denied, the more she wept; Nor would in anywise be comforted, Unless her sisters, on the Zephyr swept, Should in those halls be one day bathed and fed, And see themselves the palace where she reign'd. And he, by force of tears at last constrain'd, Granted her wish unwillingly, and said:

30 'Much to our peril hast thou won thy will; Thy sisters' love, seeing thee honour'd so, Will sour to envy, and with jealous skill Will pry to learn the thing that none may know. Answer not, nor inquire; for know that I The day thou seest my face far hence shall fly, And thou anew to bitterest fate must go.'

31 But Psyche said, 'Thy love is more than life; To have thee leaveth nothing to be won: For should the noonday prove me to be wife Even of the beauteous Eros, who is son Of Cypris, I coud never love thee more.' Whereat he fondly kisst her o'er and o'er, And peace was 'twixt them till the night was done.