Chapter II

Here long ago, so runs the gentle tale,
Sweet Psyche, wondrous fair and pearly pale,
Her young loves virgin brow all softly tinting,
With far faint hues of waking loves first hinting,
And all enraptured Cupid, arm in arm,
Secluded far from rude eyes loveless harm,
Have wiled through many a long and gracious hour,
Like fair twin bees within a fragrant flower.
Such love as they have sipt! Such silent bliss
Of raptured bosoms welded with a kiss!
Such kisses lavished rich and juicy ripe!
Such glorious songs as only lovers pipe!
From morn to morn, the lover's boundless season,
Unvext with chilly thought, or chilled with reason.
Ah! Love thou art a happy reckless boy,
To measure ages with a moments joy!
Adown the streams of golden waterfalls,
On hidden rocks the white faced Lurley calls.
Rash wilful Cupid recks without the cost--
If Venus favor not then all is lost.
Afar he flies unto her royal throne,
To claim the boon of joys that he would own,
And bring unto the mount his glorious bride,
Immortal thence forever by his side.
But Venus, queen of Beauty, waxes wrath,
To find new beauty cross her royal path.
And shall this son of all her royal favor,
Bind to a watery chit of mortal flavor?
Not so! A mother's newest plans are older,
Than any fancy scheme of youthful molder--
His fate is hers to mold! Then hie away
To sport, but think no more to disobey.
Old mother Locksmith! Venus is thy name!
Of myriad escapades, all back to thee the blame!
The angry queen hath ruled, and Love, achaffing
At wasted time, hies back to love alaughing.
And he hath sworn that she is fairer far
Than that proud goddess of the morning star,
Albeit queen of Beauty. Here, in mortal line,
Our tale should end beneath the smile parental,
In Iris tinted shower of peace divine,
And blessings less of use than ornamental.