The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 23

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In forehead low, keen eye, and nostril flat He bore the human grace in mean degree, But, set beneath his body squat and fat, Legs like a goat's, and from the hairy knee The shank fell spare; and, though crosswise he put His limbs in easeful posture, for the foot The beast's divided hoof was plain to see.

14

Him then she knew the mighty choric G.o.d, The great hill-haunting and tree-loving Pan; Whom Zeus had laught to see when first he trod Olympus, neither G.o.d nor beast nor man: Who every rocky peak and snowy crest Of the Aspran mountains for his own possest, And all their alps with bacchic rout o'erran:

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Whom, when his pipe he plays on loud and sweet, And o'er the fitted reeds his moist lip flees, Around in measured step with nimble feet Water-nymphs dance and Hamadryades: And all the woodland's airy folk, who shun Man's presence, to his frolic pastime run From their perennial wells and sacred trees.

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Now on his knee his pipe laid by, he spoke With flippant tongue, wounding unwittingly The heart he sought to cheer with jest and joke.

'And what hast thou to do with misery,'

He said, 'who hast such beauty as might gain The love of Eros? Cast away thy pain, And give thy soul to mirth and jollity.

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'Thy mortal life is but a brittle vase, But as thee list with wine or tears to fill; For all the drops therein are Ohs and Ahs Of joy or grief according to thy will; And wouldst thou learn of me my merry way, I'd teach thee change thy lover every day, And prize the cup that thou wert fain to spill.

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'Nay, if thou plunge thou shalt not drown nor sink, For I will to thee o'er the stream afloat, And bear thee safe; and O I know a drink For care, that makes sweet music in the throat.

Come live with me, my love; I'll cure thy chance: For I can laugh and quaff, and pipe and dance, Swim like a fish, and caper like a goat.'

19

Speaking, his brute divinity explored The secret of her silence; and old Pan Grew kind and told her of a shallow ford Where lower down the stream o'er pebbles ran, And one might pa.s.s at ease with ankles dry: Whither she went, and crossing o'er thereby, Her lonely wanderings through the isle began.

20

But none coud tell, no, nor herself had told Where food she found, or shelter through the land By day or night; until by fate control'd She came by steep ways to the southern strand, Where, sacred to the Twins and Britomart, Pent in its rocky theatre apart, A little town stood on the level sand.

21

'Twas where her younger sister's husband reign'd: And Psyche to the palace gate drew near, Helplessly still by Eros' hest constrain'd, And knocking begg'd to see her sister dear; But when in state stepp'd down that haughty queen, And saw the wan face spent with tears and teen, She smiled, and said 'Psyche, what dost thou here?'

22

Then Psyche told how, having well employ'd Their means, and done their bidding not amiss, Looking on him her hand would have destroy'd, 'Twas Eros; whom in love leaning to kiss, Even as she kisst, a drop of burning oil Fall'n from the lamp had served her scheme to foil, Discovering her in vision of her bliss;

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Wherewith the G.o.d stung, like a startled bird Arose in air, and she fell back in swoon; 'But ere he parted,' said she, 'he confer'd On thee the irrecoverable boon By prying lost to me: _Go tell_, he said, _Thy sister that I love her in thy stead, And bid her by her love haste hither soon_.

24

Which when that heart of malice heard, it took The jealous fancy of her silly l.u.s.t: And pitilessly with triumphant look She drank the flattery, and gave full trust; And leaving Psyche ere she more coud tell, Ran off to bid her spouse for aye farewell, And in his ear this ready lie she thrust:

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'My dearest sister Psyche, she whose fate We mourn'd, hath reappear'd alive and hale, But brings sad news; my father dies: full late These tidings come, but love may yet avail; Let me be gone.' And stealing blind consent, Forth on that well-remember'd road she went, And climb'd upon the peak above the dale.

26

There on the topmost rock, where Psyche first Had by her weeping sire been left to die, She stood a moment, in her hope accurst Being happy; and the cliffs took up her cry With chuckling mockery from her tongue above, _Zephyr, sweet Zephyr, waft me to my love_!

When off she lept upon his wings to fly.

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But as a dead stone, from a height let fall, Silent and straight is gather'd by the force Of earth's vast ma.s.s upon its weight so small, In speed increasing as it nears its source Of motion--by which law all things soe'er Are clutch'd and dragg'd and held--so fell she there, Like a dead stone, down in her headlong course.

28

The disregardful silence heard her strike Upon the solid crags; her dismal shriek Rang on the rocks and died out laughter-like Along the vale in hurried trebles weak; And soon upon her, from their skiey haunt Fell to their feast the great birds bald and gaunt And gorged on her fair flesh with b.l.o.o.d.y beak.

29

But Psyche, when her sister was gone forth, Went out again her wandering way to take: And following a stream that led her north, After some days she pa.s.s'd the Corian Lake, Whereby Athena's temple stands, and he Who traverses the isle from sea to sea May by the plain his shortest journey make:

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Till on the northern coast arrived she came Upon a city built about a port, The which she knew, soon as she heard the name, Was where her elder sister had her court; To whom, as Eros had commanded her, She now in turn became the messenger Of vengeful punishment, that fell not short:

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For she too hearing gan her heart exalt, Nor pity felt for Psyche's tears and moans, But, fellow'd with that other in her fault, Follow'd her to her fate upon the stones; And from the peak leaping like her below The self-same way unto the self-same woe, Lay dasht to death upon her sister's bones.