Chapter III

But all the mount hath heard this reckless oath,
And all the mount aghast, if Venus wroth,
Be not the Venus terrible. Alas!
Such lovers make sad flowers in the grass.
And woful trees by many a dusky stream
Embar the fire of many a love's young dream.
And grizzly monsters moan in sunken path,
Some fiery love that stirred the gods to wrath.
But beauty's queen hath brooked no passing jest
To penetrate her deep heart's wild unrest.
But in the stilly quiet of her wrath,
Conceives dark pitfalls for the lover's path.
And she that once hath hied to amorous chase,
And grieved outstript in love's immortal race,
Now calls her white winged swans, on fleecy pinions,
To bear her down to earthly love's dominions,
For naught of love or sorrow. From a cave,
Whence flowed her double fountain bitter wave,
Two serpents, green and gray, and mottled golden,
Within her chariots hold hath she close folden;
Cirque-couchant, glittering, whispering sibilant
Deep curses old, they with their fury pant,
To strains the subtle bonds of jealous art,
And plant deep venomed fangs within her heart.
But now the feathry chariot glides along
The airy sea, among the sable throng
Of darkling hours, whose soundless feet are gliding
Unto the amorous dome of Love's abiding.
And they have halted, serpents, swans and queen
Within a grove that shields them with its screen
Of em'rald interlacing. There a little bloom
Of nameless hue, and forest wild perfume,
She plucks, and crusheth in a bowl of jade.
And with her breath a syrup weird hath made,
Whose faint escaping break along dim aisles,
Of forests, brooding mournful eld, beguiles,
Till such a wild heart rending moan hath risen,
As never rose within a tortured prison
To greet a ray of light. But heark'ning not,
She bends above her serpents, breathing hot
Upon their heads, een as they pause to strike,
This mystic lotion. Lo! what wonders like
Hath ever magic seer in lore beholden?--
Each serpent skin a woman's form enfolden,
That with that breath of drunken magic lotion
Hath sprung to being with an exquisite motion,
And such sweet words, as through a thousand years,
Have gathered music for a tale of tears.
But Lo! one groweth old, and very old,--
A toothless haggard hideous to behold.
And one hath grown a marvellous sun-bright creature,
Of luscious form and speechless worship's feature.
One stands like sunlight on a crested wave,
And one like murky darkness in a cave.
But each a low obedient knee hath bended,
To hear the queenly will thus long suspended.
And thus the queen, to her the radiant maiden:
"Thou bitter sweet, thou vessel overladen,
"In yonder dome a fairer maid than thou,
"Sees all her beauty in a lover's vow,
"Nor heeds the ripples on that mirror's sheen,
"From troubled depths of her fair self unseen.
"Go thou, and with thine ointed tongue reverse
"The mirror's face, and there thine own immerse;
"Remembering still, thou hast a serpent's tongue,
"That holds thee slave, till thou hast surely flung
"Its glittering barb into that silly heart."
Then, like an apparition of a dream,
The maid hath vanished, with a hellish gleam.
And thus the queen, unto that gruesome hag:
"In yonder dome a youth hath founden beauty
"Within a maid, and swears all foul and sooty,
"That is not there. Thou hast a serpent's eyes,
"And seeth so what dreary falsehood lies,
"In such a mirror. Go reverse the glass,
"And thine the beauty he has wasted on the lass,
"He hath not seen." The hory dame is gone.
And Venus left within the grove alone,
Recalls her swans and mounts the starry air.

Then she, the new born maid, as false as fair,
Hath found sweet Psyche in the crystal dome,
And creeping, like a mad thing to her soul,
In friendly guise, exacts a hideous toll
For all her blissful life: "How can she bind
"Her sunny soul to such a treacherous mind?
"And she hath wed a libertine, a rake,
"Whom even now her pleasures must forsake
"To drink new pleasures with another bride.
"And if she creeps in silence to his side
"Forsooth unwelcome sights might come unto her."
With such foul words the fiend began to woo her,
And in her pearly ear hath poured the breath,
Of hideous doubt that stabs her soul to death.
And then hath wandered with exultant heart,
Unto the vales of Crete, her glittering dart,
Of barbed tongue, a woman's sweetness singing,
And ever more hath myriad minions clinging,
Unto her heartless laughter. But no more
To grace our tale. And now the haggard hoar,
On Cupid's angry ears, with whisperings
Of faithless women, and the direful springs
Of wasted lives: "And she hath heard the wind
"Sing always, maids are false and men are blind,
"And in a cavern by the ocean side,
"'Tis daily jest of Wind and Sun and Tide,
"How Psyche tweaks the gentle Cupid's nose
"Between the beds; and Psyche false as fair,
"Needs but a whim to lay her treason bare.
"This very night, if he will but deny her,
"If nothing more, at least 'twere time to try her,
"For sooth unwelcome sights might come unto him."
With such foul words the witch began to woo him,
And in his angry ears hath poured the bane,
That sets his heart at riot in his brain.