Part 2

And now that he might come to this fair end, He found Apollo, and besought him lend His throne of divination for a while, Whereby he did the priestess there beguile, To give the cruel answer ye have heard Unto those lords, who wrote it word by word, And back unto the King its threatenings bore, Whereof there came that grief and mourning sore, Of which ye wot; thereby is Psyche laid Upon the mountain-top; thereby, afraid Of some ill yet, within the city fair Cower down the people that have sent her there.

Withal did Love call unto him the Wind Called Zephyrus, who most was to his mind, And said, "O rainy wooer of the spring, I pray thee, do for me an easy thing; To such a hill-top go, O gentle Wind, And there a sleeping maiden shalt thou find; Her perfect body in thine arms with care Take up, and unto the green valley bear That lies before my noble house of gold; There leave her lying on the daisies cold." Then, smiling, toward the place the fair Wind went While 'neath his wing the sleeping lilies bent, And flying 'twixt the green earth and the sea Made the huge anchored ships dance merrily, And swung round from the east the gilded vanes On many a palace, and from unhorsed wains Twitched off the wheat-straw in his hurried flight; But ere much time had passed he came in sight Of Psyche laid in swoon upon the hill, And smiling, set himself to do Love's will; For in his arms he took her up with care, Wondering to see a mortal made so fair, And came into the vale in little space, And set her down in the most flowery place; And then unto the plains of Thessaly Went ruffling up the edges of the sea.

Now underneath the world the moon was gone, But brighter shone the stars so left alone, Until a faint green light began to show Far in the east, whereby did all men know, Who lay awake either with joy or pain, That day was coming on their heads again; Then widening, soon it spread to grey twilight, And in a while with gold the east was bright; The birds burst out a-singing one by one, And o'er the hill-top rose the mighty sun. Therewith did Psyche open wide her eyes, And rising on her arm, with great surprise Gazed on the flowers wherein so deep she lay, And wondered why upon that dawn of day Out in the fields she had lift up her head Rather than in her balmy gold-hung bed. Then, suddenly remembering all her woes, She sprang upon her feet, and yet arose Within her heart a mingled hope and dread Of some new thing: and now she raised her head, And gazing round about her timidly, A lovely grassy valley could she see, That steep grey cliffs upon three sides did bound, And under these, a river sweeping round, With gleaming curves the valley did embrace, And seemed to make an island of that place; And all about were dotted leafy trees, The elm for shade, the linden for the bees, The noble oak, long ready for the steel Which in that place it had no fear to feel; The pomegranate, the apple, and the pear, That fruit and flowers at once made shift to bear, Nor yet decayed therefor, and in them hung Bright birds that elsewhere sing not, but here sung As sweetly as the small brown nightingales Within the wooded, deep Laconian vales. But right across the vale, from side to side, A high white wall all further view did hide, But that above it, vane and pinnacle Rose up, of some great house beyond to tell, And still betwixt these, mountains far away Against the sky rose shadowy, cold, and grey.

She, standing in the yellow morning sun, Could scarcely think her happy life was done, Or that the place was made for misery; Yea, some lone heaven it rather seemed to be, Which for the coming band of gods did wait; Hope touched her heart; no longer desolate, Deserted of all creatures did she feel, And o'er her face sweet colour 'gan to steal, That deepened to a flush, as wandering thought Desires before unknown unto her brought, So mighty was the God, though far away. But trembling midst her hope, she took her way Unto a little door midmost the wall, And still on odorous flowers her feet did fall, And round about her did the strange birds sing, Praising her beauty in their carolling. Thus coming to the door, when now her hand First touched the lock, in doubt she needs must stand, And to herself she said, "Lo, here the trap! And yet, alas! whatever now may hap, How can I 'scape the ill which waiteth me? Let me die now!" and herewith, tremblingly, She raised the latch, and her sweet sinless eyes Beheld a garden like a paradise, Void of mankind, fairer than words can say, Wherein did joyous harmless creatures play After their kind, and all amidst the trees Were strange-wrought founts and wondrous images; And glimmering 'twixt the boughs could she behold A house made beautiful with beaten gold, Whose open doors in the bright sun did gleam; Lonely, but not deserted did it seem. Long time she stood debating what to do, But at the last she passed the wicket through, Which, shutting clamorously behind her, sent A pang of fear throughout her as she went; But when through all that green place she had passed And by the palace porch she stood at last, And saw how wonderfully the wall was wrought, With curious stones from far-off countries brought, And many an image and fair history Of what the world has been, and yet shall be, And all set round with golden craftsmanship, Well-wrought as some renowned cup's royal lip, She had a thought again to turn aside: And yet again, not knowing where to bide, She entered softly, and with trembling hands Holding her gown; the wonder of all lands Met there the wonders of the land and sea.

Now went she through the chambers tremblingly, And oft in going would she pause and stand, And drop the gathered raiment from her hand, Stilling the beating of her heart for fear As voices whispering low she seemed to hear, But then again the wind it seemed to be Moving the golden hangings doubtfully, Or some bewildered swallow passing close Unto the pane, or some wind-beaten rose. Soon seeing that no evil thing came near, A little she began to lose her fear, And gaze upon the wonders of the place, And in the silver mirrors saw her face Grown strange to her amidst that loneliness, And stooped to feel the web her feet did press, Wrought by the brown slim-fingered Indian's toil Amidst the years of war and vain turmoil; Or she the figures of the hangings felt, Or daintily the unknown blossoms smelt, Or stood and pondered what new thing might mean The images of knight and king and queen Wherewith the walls were pictured here and there, Or touched rich vessels with her fingers fair, And o'er her delicate smooth cheek would pass The long-fixed bubbles of strange works of glass: So wandered she amidst these marvels new Until anigh the noontide now it grew. At last she came unto a chamber cool Paved cunningly in manner of a pool, Where red fish seemed to swim through floating weed And at the first she thought it so indeed, And took the sandals quickly from her feet, But when the glassy floor these did but meet The shadow of a long-forgotten smile Her anxious face a moment did beguile; And crossing o'er, she found a table spread With dainty food, as delicate white bread And fruits piled up and covered savoury meat, As though a king were coming there to eat, For the worst vessel was of beaten gold. Now when these dainties Psyche did behold She fain had eaten, but did nowise dare, Thinking she saw a god's feast lying there. But as she turned to go the way she came She heard a low soft voice call out her name, Then she stood still, and trembling gazed around, And seeing no man, nigh sank upon the ground, Then through the empty air she heard the voice.

"O, lovely one, fear not! rather rejoice That thou art come unto thy sovereignty: Sit now and eat, this feast is but for thee, Yea, do whatso thou wilt with all things here, And in thine own house cast away thy fear, For all is thine, and little things are these So loved a heart as thine, awhile to please. "Be patient! thou art loved by such an one As will not leave thee mourning here alone, But rather cometh on this very night; And though he needs must hide him from thy sight Yet all his words of love thou well mayst hear, And pour thy woes into no careless ear. "Bethink thee then, with what solemnity Thy folk, thy father, did deliver thee To him who loves thee thus, and void of dread Remember, sweet, thou art a bride new-wed."

Now hearing this, did Psyche, trembling sore And yet with lighter heart than heretofore, Sit down and eat, till she grew scarce afeard; And nothing but the summer noise she heard Within the garden, then, her meal being done, Within the window-seat she watched the sun Changing the garden-shadows, till she grew Fearless and happy, since she deemed she knew The worst that could befall, while still the best Shone a fair star far off: and mid the rest This brought her after all her grief and fear, She said, "How sweet it would be, could I hear, Soft music mate the drowsy afternoon, And drown awhile the bees' sad murmuring tune Within these flowering limes." E'en as she spoke, A sweet-voiced choir of unknown unseen folk Singing to words that match the sense of these Hushed the faint music of the linden trees.

SONG.

O pensive, tender maid, downcast and shy, Who turnest pale e'en at the name of love, And with flushed face must pass the elm-tree by Ashamed to hear the passionate grey dove Moan to his mate, thee too the god shall move, Thee too the maidens shall ungird one day, And with thy girdle put thy shame away.

What then, and shall white winter ne'er be done Because the glittering frosty morn is fair? Because against the early-setting sun Bright show the gilded boughs though waste and bare? Because the robin singeth free from care? Ah! these are memories of a better day When on earth's face the lips of summer lay.

Come then, beloved one, for such as thee Love loveth, and their hearts he knoweth well, Who hoard their moments of felicity, As misers hoard the medals that they tell, Lest on the earth but paupers they should dwell: "We hide our love to bless another day; The world is hard, youth passes quick," they say.

Ah, little ones, but if ye could forget Amidst your outpoured love that you must die, Then ye, my servants, were death's conquerors yet, And love to you should be eternity How quick soever might the days go by: Yes, ye are made immortal on the day Ye cease the dusty grains of time to weigh.

Thou hearkenest, love? O, make no semblance then That thou art loved, but as thy custom is Turn thy grey eyes away from eyes of men, With hands down-dropped, that tremble with thy bliss, With hidden eyes, take thy first lover's kiss; Call this eternity which is to-day, Nor dream that this our love can pass away.

They ceased, and Psyche pondering o'er their song, Not fearing now that aught would do her wrong, About the chambers wandered at her will, And on the many marvels gazed her fill, Where'er she passed still noting everything, Then in the gardens heard the new birds sing And watched the red fish in the fountains play, And at the very faintest time of day Upon the grass lay sleeping for a while Midst heaven-sent dreams of bliss that made her smile; And when she woke the shades were lengthening, So to the place where she had heard them sing She came again, and through a little door Entered a chamber with a marble floor, Open a-top unto the outer air, Beneath which lay a bath of water fair, Paved with strange stones and figures of bright gold, And from the steps thereof could she behold The slim-leaved trees against the evening sky Golden and calm, still moving languidly. So for a time upon the brink she sat, Debating in her mind of this and that, And then arose and slowly from her cast Her raiment, and adown the steps she passed Into the water, and therein she played, Till of herself at last she grew afraid, And of the broken image of her face, And the loud splashing in that lonely place. So from the bath she gat her quietly, And clad herself in whatso haste might be; And when at last she was apparelled Unto a chamber came, where was a bed Of gold and ivory, and precious wood Some island bears where never man has stood; And round about hung curtains of delight, Wherein were interwoven Day and Night Joined by the hands of Love, and round their wings Knots of fair flowers no earthly May-time brings. Strange for its beauty was the coverlet, With birds and beasts and flowers wrought over it; And every cloth was made in daintier wise Than any man on earth could well devise: Yea, there such beauty was in everything, That she, the daughter of a mighty king, Felt strange therein, and trembled lest that she, Deceived by dreams, had wandered heedlessly Into a bower for some fair goddess made. Yet if perchance some man had thither strayed, It had been long ere he had noted aught But her sweet face, made pensive by the thought Of all the wonders that she moved in there. But looking round, upon a table fair She saw a book wherein old tales were writ, And by the window sat, to read in it Until the dusk had melted into night, When waxen tapers did her servants light With unseen hands, until it grew like day. And so at last upon the bed she lay, And slept a dreamless sleep for weariness, Forgetting all the wonder and distress.

But at the dead of night she woke, and heard A rustling noise, and grew right sore afeard, Yea, could not move a finger for affright; And all was darker now than darkest night.

Withal a voice close by her did she hear. "Alas, my love! why tremblest thou with fear, While I am trembling with new happiness? Forgive me, sweet, thy terror and distress: Not otherwise could this our meeting be. O loveliest! such bliss awaiteth thee, For all thy trouble and thy shameful tears. Such nameless honour, and such happy years, As fall not unto women of the earth. Loved as thou art, thy short-lived pains are worth The glory and the joy unspeakable Wherein the Treasure of the World shall dwell: A little hope, a little patience yet, Ere everything thou wilt, thou may'st forget, Or else remember as a well-told tale, That for some pensive pleasure may avail. Canst thou not love me, then, who wrought thy woe, That thou the height and depth of joy mightst know?"

He spoke, and as upon the bed she lay, Trembling amidst new thoughts, he sent a ray Of finest love unto her inmost heart, Till, murmuring low, she strove the night to part, And like a bride who meets her love at last, When the long days of yearning are o'erpast, She reached to him her perfect arms unseen, And said, "O Love, how wretched I have been! What hast thou done?" And by her side he lay. Till just before the dawning of the day.

* * * * *

The sun was high when Psyche woke again, And turning to the place where he had lain And seeing no one, doubted of the thing That she had dreamed it, till a fair gold ring, Unseen before, upon her hand she found, And touching her bright head she felt it crowned With a bright circlet; then withal she sighed. And wondered how the oracle had lied, And wished her father knew it, and straightway Rose up and clad herself. Slow went the day, Though helped with many a solace, till came night; And therewithal the new, unseen delight, She learned to call her Love. So passed away The days and nights, until upon a day As in the shade, at noon she lay asleep. She dreamed that she beheld her sisters weep, And her old father clad in sorry guise, Grown foolish with the weight of miseries, Her friends black-clad and moving mournfully, And folk in wonder landed from the sea, At such a fall of such a matchless maid, And in some press apart her raiment laid Like precious relics, and an empty tomb Set in the palace telling of her doom. Therefore she wept in sleep, and woke with tears Still on her face, and wet hair round her ears, And went about unhappily that day, Framing a gentle speech wherewith to pray For leave to see her sisters once again, That they might know her happy, and her pain Turned all to joy, and honour come from shame. And so at last night and her lover came, And midst their fondling, suddenly she said, "O Love, a little time we have been wed, And yet I ask a boon of thee this night." "Psyche," he said, "if my heart tells me right, This thy desire may bring us bitter woe, For who the shifting chance of fate can know? Yet, forasmuch as mortal hearts are weak, To-morrow shall my folk thy sisters seek, And bear them hither; but before the day Is fully ended must they go away. And thou--beware--for, fresh and good and true, Thou knowest not what worldly hearts may do, Or what a curse gold is unto the earth. Beware lest from thy full heart, in thy mirth, Thou tell'st the story of thy love unseen: Thy loving, simple heart, fits not a queen." Then by her kisses did she know he frowned, But close about him her fair arms she wound, Until for happiness he 'gan to smile, And in those arms forgat all else awhile.

So the next day, for joy that they should come, Would Psyche further deck her strange new home, And even as she 'gan to think the thought, Quickly her will by unseen hands was wrought, Who came and went like thoughts. Yea, how should I Tell of the works of gold and ivory, The gems and images, those hands brought there The prisoned things of earth, and sea, and air, They brought to please their mistress? Many a beast, Such as King Bacchus in his reckless feast Makes merry with--huge elephants, snow-white With gilded tusks, or dusky-grey with bright And shining chains about their wrinkled necks; The mailed rhinoceros, that of nothing recks; Dusky-maned lions; spotted leopards fair That through the cane-brake move, unseen as air; The deep-mouthed tiger, dread of the brown man; The eagle, and the peacock, and the swan-- --These be the nobles of the birds and beasts. But therewithal, for laughter at their feasts, They brought them the gods' jesters, such as be Quick-chattering apes, that yet in mockery Of anxious men wrinkle their ugly brows; Strange birds with pouches, birds with beaks like prows Of merchant-ships, with tufted crests like threads, With unimaginable monstrous heads. Lo, such as these, in many a gilded cage They brought, or chained for fear of sudden rage. Then strewed they scented branches on the floor, And hung rose-garlands up by the great door, And wafted incense through the bowers and halls, And hung up fairer hangings on the walls, And filled the baths with water fresh and clear, And in the chambers laid apparel fair, And spread a table for a royal feast. Then when from all these labours they had ceased, Psyche they sung to sleep with lullabies; Who slept not long, but opening soon her eyes, Beheld her sisters on the threshold stand: Then did she run to take them by the hand, And laid her cheek to theirs, and murmured words Of little meaning, like the moan of birds, While they bewildered stood and gazed around, Like people who in some strange land have found One that they thought not of; but she at last Stood back, and from her face the strayed locks cast, And, smiling through her tears, said, "Ah, that ye Should have to weep such useless tears for me! Alas, the burden that the city bears For nought! O me, my father's burning tears, That into all this honour I am come! Nay, does he live yet? Is the ancient home Still standing? do the galleys throng the quays? Do the brown Indians glitter down the ways With rubies as of old? Yes, yes, ye smile, For ye are thinking, but a little while Apart from these has she been dwelling here; Truly, yet long enough, loved ones and dear, To make me other than I was of old, Though now when your dear faces I behold Am I myself again. But by what road Have ye been brought to this my new abode?" "Sister," said one, "I rose up from my bed It seems this morn, and being apparelléd, And walking in my garden, in a swoon Helpless and unattended I sank down, Wherefrom I scarce am waked, for as a dream Dost thou with all this royal glory seem, But for thy kisses and thy words, O love." "Yea, Psyche," said the other, "as I drove The ivory shuttle through the shuttle-race, All was changed suddenly, and in this place I found myself, and standing on my feet, Where me with sleepy words this one did greet. Now, sister, tell us whence these wonders come With all the godlike splendour of your home."