The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 20

22

'So let it be, and so shall we be saved.'

Which meditated vengeance of his fear When Psyche heard, now for their life she craved, Whose mere distress erewhile had toucht her near.

Around her lover's neck her arms she threw, And pleaded for them by her faith so true, Although they went on doom in judgment clear.

23

In terror of bloodguiltiness she now Forgot all other danger; she adjured, Or using playfulness deep sobs would plow Her soft entreaties, not to be endured: Till he at last was fain once more to grant The service of the Zephyr, to enchant That wicked couple from their fate a.s.sured.

24

So ere 'twas noon were noises at the door Of knocking loud and voices high in glee; Such as within that vale never before Had been, and now seem'd most unmeet to be.

And Psyche blush'd, though being alone, and rose To meet her sisters and herself unclose The gate that made them of her palace free.

25

Fondly she kiss'd them, and with kindly cheer Sought to amuse; and they with outward smile O'ermask'd their hate, and called her sweet and dear, Finding affection easy to beguile: And all was smooth, until at last one said 'Tell us, I pray, to whom 'tis thou art wed; 'Mong G.o.ds or men, what is his rank and style?

26

'Thou canst not think to hide the truth from us, Who knew thy peevish sorrows when a maid, And see thee now so glad and rapturous, As changed from what thou wert as light from shade; Thy jewels, too, the palace of a king, Nor least the serviceable spiriting, By everything thy secret is betray'd:

27

'And yet thou talkest of thy wondrous man No more than if his face thou didst not know.'

At which incontinently she began, Forgetful of her word a month ago, Answering 'A merchant rich, of middle age, My husband is; and o'er his features sage His temples are already touch'd with snow.

28

'But 'gainst his wish since hither ye were brought 'Twere best depart.' Then her accustom'd spell Sped them upon the summit quick as thought; And being alone her doing pleased her well: So was she vext to find her love at night More sad than ever, of her sisters' spite Speaking as one that coud the end foretell.

29

'And ere long,' said he, 'they will spy again: Let them be dash'd upon the rocks and die; 'Tis they must come to death or thou to pain, To separation, Psyche, thou and I; Nay, and our babe to ill. I therefore crave Thou wilt not even once more these vipers save, Nor to thy love his only boon deny.'

30

But Psyche would not think her sisters' crime So gross and strange, nor coud her danger see; Since 'twere so easy, if at any time They show'd the venom of their hearts, that she Should fan them off upon the willing gust.

So she refused, and claiming truer trust, Would in no wise unto their death agree.

JULY

1

'What think you, sister:' thus one envious fiend To other spake upon their homeward route, 'What of the story that our wit hath glean'd Of this mysterious lover, who can shoot In thirty days from beardless youth to prime, With wisdom in his face before his time, And snowy locks upon his head to boot?

2

'Ay,' said the other, 'true, she lied not well; And thence I gather knows no more than we: For surely 'tis a spirit insensible To whom she is wedded, one she cannot see.

'Tis that I fear; for if 'tis so, her child Will be a G.o.d, and she a G.o.ddess styled, Which, though I die to let it, shall not be.

3

'Lament we thus no longer. Come, consult What may be done.' And home they came at night, Yet not to rest, but of their plots occult Sat whispering on their beds; and ere 'twas light Resolving on the deed coud not defer; But roused the sleeping house with sudden stir, And sallied forth alone to work their spite.

4

And with the noon were climb'd upon the peak, And swam down on the Zephyr as before; But now with piercing cry and doleful shriek They force their entrance through the golden door, Feigning the urgency of bitter truth; Such as deforms a friendly face with ruth, When kindness may not hide ill tidings more.

5

Then Psyche when she heard their wailful din, And saw their countenances wan and worn With travel, vigil, and disfiguring sin, Their hair dishevel'd and their habits torn, For trembling scarce coud ask what ill had hapt; And they alert with joy to see her trapt, Launch'd forth amain, and on their drift were borne.

6

'O Psyche, happiest certainly and blest Up to this hour,' they said, 'thou surely wert, Being of thy fearful peril unpossest; Which now we would not tell but to avert.

But we in solemn truth thy spouse have found To be the dragon of this mountain ground, Who holds thee here to work thy shame and hurt.

7

'As yesternight we rode upon the wind He issued to pursue us from the wood; We saw his back, that through the tree-tops finn'd, His fiery eyes glared from their wrinkl'd hood.

Lo, now betimes the oracle, which said How to the savage beast thou shouldst be wed, Is plainly for thy safety understood.

8

'Long time hath he been known to all that dwell Upon the plain; but now his secret lair Have we discover'd, which none else coud tell: Though many women fallen in his snare Hath he enchanted; who, tradition saith, Taste love awhile, ere to their cruel death They pa.s.s in turn upon the summits bare.

9