Poetical Works of Robert Bridges, Volume 1

Part 5

Chapter 54,105 wordsPublic domain

But ere unto the snowy peak they came Of that stormshapen pyramid so high, ’Twas evening, and with footsteps slow and lame They gather’d up their lagging company: And then her sire, even as Apollo bade, Set on the topmost rock the hapless maid, With trembling hands and melancholy cry.

And now the sun was sunk; only the peak Flash’d like a jewel in the deepening blue: And from the shade beneath none dared to speak, But all look’d up, where glorified anew Psyche sat islanded in living day. Breathless they watcht her, till the last red ray Fled from her lifted arm that waved adieu.

There left they her, turning with sad farewells To haste their homeward course, as best they might: But night was crowding up the barren fells, And hid full soon their rocky path from sight; And each unto his stumbling foot to hold His torch was fain, for o’er the moon was roll’d A mighty cloud from heaven, to blot her light.

And thro’ the darkness for long while was seen That armour’d train with waving fires to thread Downwards, by pass, defile, and black ravine, Each leading on the way that he was led. Slowly they gain’d the plain, and one by one Into the shadows of the woods were gone, Or in the clinging mists were quench’d and fled.

But unto Psyche, pondering o’er her doom In tearful silence on her stony chair, A Zephyr straying out of heaven’s wide room Rush’d down, and gathering round her unaware Fill’d with his breath her vesture and her veil; And like a ship, that crowding all her sail Leans to accompany the tranquil air,

She yielded, and was borne with swimming brain And airy joy, along the mountain side, Till, hid from earth by ridging summits twain, They came upon a valley deep and wide; Where the strong Zephyr with his burden sank, And laid her down upon a grassy bank, ’Mong thyme and violets and daisies pied.

And straight upon the touch of that sweet bed Both woe and wonder melted fast away: And sleep with gentle stress her sense o’erspread, Gathering as darkness doth on drooping day: And nestling to the ground, she slowly drew Her wearied limbs together, and, ere she knew, Wrapt in forgetfulness and slumber lay.

MAY

After long sleep when Psyche first awoke Among the grasses ’neath the open skies, And heard the mounting larks, whose carol spoke Delighted invitation to arise, She lay as one who after many a league Hath slept off memory with his long fatigue, And waking knows not in what place he lies:

Anon her quickening thought took up its task, And all came back as it had happ’d o’ernight; The sad procession of the wedding mask, The melancholy toiling up the height, The solitary rock where she was left; And thence in dark and airy waftage reft, How on the flowers she had been disburden’d light.

Thereafter she would rise and see what place That voyage had its haven in, and found She stood upon a little hill, whose base Shelved off into the valley all around; And all round that the steep cliffs rose away, Save on one side where to the break of day The widening dale withdrew in falling ground.

There, out from over sea, and scarce so high As she, the sun above his watery blaze Upbroke the grey dome of the morning sky, And struck the island with his level rays; Sifting his gold thro’ lazy mists, that still Climb’d on the shadowy roots of every hill, And in the tree-tops breathed their silvery haze.

At hand on either side there was a wood; And on the upward lawn, that sloped between, Not many paces back a temple stood, By even steps ascending from the green; With shaft and pediment of marble made, It fill’d the passage of the rising glade, And there withstay’d the sun in dazzling sheen.

Too fair for human art, so Psyche thought, It might the fancy of some god rejoice; Like to those halls which lame Hephæstos wrought, Original, for each god to his choice, In high Olympus; where his matchless lyre Apollo wakes, and the responsive choir Of Muses sing alternate with sweet voice.

Wondering she drew anigh, and in a while Went up the steps as she would entrance win, And faced her shadow ’neath the peristyle Upon the golden gate, whose flanges twin-- As there she stood, irresolute at heart To try--swung to her of themselves apart; Whereat she past between and stood within.

A foursquare court it was with marble floor’d, Embay’d about with pillar’d porticoes, That echo’d in a somnolent accord The music of a fountain, which arose Sparkling in air, and splashing in its tank; Whose wanton babble, as it swell’d or sank, Gave idle voice to silence and repose.

Thro’ doors beneath the further colonnade, Like a deep cup’s reflected glooms of gold, The inner rooms glow’d with inviting shade: And, standing in the court, she might behold Cedar, and silk, and silver; and that all The pargeting of ceiling and of wall Was fresco’d o’er with figures manifold.

Then making bold to go within, she heard Murmur of gentle welcome in her ear; And seeing none that coud have spoken word, She waited: when again Lady, draw near; Enter! was cried; and now more voices came From all the air around calling her name, And bidding her rejoice and have no fear.

And one, if she would rest, would show her bed, Pillow’d for sleep, with fragrant linen fine; One, were she hungry, had a table spread Like as the high gods have it when they dine: Or, would she bathe, were those would heat the bath; The joyous cries contending in her path, Psyche, they said, What wilt thou? all is thine.

Then Psyche would have thank’d their service true, But that she fear’d her echoing words might scare Those sightless tongues; and well by dream she knew The voices of the messengers of prayer, Which fly upon the gods’ commandment, when They answer the supreme desires of men, Or for a while in pity hush their care.

’Twas fancy’s consummation, and because She would do joy no curious despite, She made no wonder how the wonder was; Only concern’d to take her full delight. So to the bath,--what luxury could be Better enhanced by eyeless ministry?— She follows with the voices that invite.

There being deliciously refresht, from soil Of earth made pure by water, fire, and air, They clad her in soft robes of Asian toil, Scented, that in her queenly wardrobe were; And led her forth to dine, and all around Sang as they served, the while a choral sound Of strings unseen and reeds the burden bare.

P athetic strains and passionate they wove, U rgent in ecstasies of heavenly sense; R esponsive rivalries, that, while they strove, C ombined in full harmonious suspense, E ntrancing wild desire, then fell at last L ull’d in soft closes, and with gay contrast L aunch’d forth their fresh unwearied excellence.

Now Psyche, when her twofold feast was o’er, Would feed her eye; and choosing for her guide A low-voiced singer, bade her come explore The wondrous house; until on every side As surfeited with beauty, and seeing nought But what was rich and fair beyond her thought, And all her own, thus to the voice she cried:

‘Am I indeed a goddess, or is this But to be dead; and through the gates of death Passing unwittingly doth man not miss Body nor memory nor living breath; Nor by demerits of his deeds is cast, But, paid with the desire he holdeth fast, Is holp with all his heart imagineth?’

But her for all reply the wandering tongue Call’d to the chamber where her bed was laid, With flower’d broideries of linen hung: And round the walls in painting were portray’d Love’s victories over the gods renown’d. Ares and Aphrodite here lay bound In the fine net that dark Hephæstus made:

Here Zeus, in likeness of a tawny bull, Stoop’d on the Cretan shore his mighty knee, While off his back Europa beautiful Stept pale against the blue Carpathian sea; And here Apollo, as he caught amazed Daphne, for lo! her hands shot forth upraised In leaves, her feet were rooted like a tree:

Here Dionysos, springing from his car At sight of Ariadne; here uplept Adonis to the chase, breaking the bar Of Aphrodite’s arm for love who wept: He spear in hand, with leashèd dogs at strain; A marvellous work. But Psyche soon grown fain Of rest, betook her to her bed and slept.

Nor long had slept, when at a sudden stir She woke; and one, that thro’ the dark made way, Drew near, and stood beside; and over her The curtain rustl’d. Trembling now she lay, Fainting with terror: till upon her face A kiss, and with two gentle arms’ embrace, A voice that call’d her name in loving play.

Though for the darkness she coud nothing see, She wish’d not then for what the night denied: This was the lover she had lack’d, and she, Loving his loving, was his willing bride. O’erjoy’d she slept again, o’erjoy’d awoke At break of morn upon her love to look; When lo! his empty place lay by her side.

So all that day she spent in company Of the soft voices; and Of right, they said, Art thou our Lady now. Be happily Thy bridal morrow by thy servants sped. But she but long’d for night, if that might bring Her lover back; and he on secret wing Came with the dark, and in the darkness fled.

And this was all her life; for every night He came, and though his name she never learn’d, Nor was his image yielded to her sight At morn or eve, she neither look’d nor yearn’d Beyond her happiness: and custom brought An ease to pleasure; nor would Psyche’s thought Have ever to her earthly home return’d,

But that one night he said ‘Psyche, my soul, Sad danger threatens us: thy sisters twain Come to the mountain top, whence I thee stole, And thou wilt hear their voices thence complain. Answer them not: for it must end our love If they should hear or spy thee from above.’ And Psyche said ‘Their cry shall be in vain.’

But being again alone, she thought ’twas hard On her own blood; and blamed her joy as thief Of theirs, her comfort which their comfort barr’d; When she their care might be their care’s relief. All day she brooded on her father’s woe, And when at night her lover kisst her, lo! Her tender face was wet with tears of grief.

Then question’d why she wept, she all confest; And begg’d of him she might but once go nigh To set her sire’s and sisters’ fears at rest; Till he for pity coud not but comply: ‘Only if they should ask thee of thy love Discover nothing to their ears above.’ And Psyche said ‘In vain shall be their cry.’

And yet with day no sooner was alone, Than she for loneliness her promise rued: That having so much pleasure for her own, ’Twas all unshared and spent in solitude. And when at night her love flew to his place, More than afore she shamed his fond embrace, And piteously with tears her plaint renew’d.

The more he now denied, the more she wept; Nor would in anywise be comforted, Unless her sisters, on the Zephyr swept, Should in those halls be one day bathed and fed, And see themselves the palace where she reign’d. And he by force of tears at last constrain’d, Granted her wish unwillingly, and said:

‘Much to our peril hast thou won thy will; Thy sisters’ love, seeing thee honour’d so, Will sour to envy, and with jealous skill Will pry to learn the thing that none may know. Answer not, nor inquire; for know that I The day thou seest my face far hence shall fly, And thou anew to bitterest fate must go.’

But Psyche said, ‘Thy love is more than life; To have thee leaveth nothing to be won: For should the noonday prove me to be wife Even of the beauteous Eros, who is son Of Cypris, I coud never love thee more.’ Whereat he fondly kisst her o’er and o’er, And peace was ’twixt them till the night was done.

EROS & PSYCHE

SECOND QUARTER SUMMER

PSYCHE’S SISTERS · SNARING HER TO DESTRUCTION · ARE THEMSELVES DESTROYED

JUNE

And truly need there was to the old King For consolation: since the mournful day Of Psyche’s fate he took no comforting, But only for a speedy death would pray; And on his head his hair grew silver-white. --Such on life’s topmost bough is sorrow’s blight, When the stout heart is cankering to decay.

Which when his daughters learnt, they both were quick Comfort and solace to their sire to lend. But as not seldom they who nurse the sick Will take the malady from them they tend, So happ’d it now; for they who fail’d to cheer Grew sad themselves, and in that palace drear Increased the evil that they came to mend.

And them the unhappy father sent to seek Where Psyche had been left, if they might find What monster held her on the savage peak; Or if she there had died of hunger pined, And, by wild eagles stript, her scatter’d bones Might still be gather’d from the barren stones; Or if her fate had left no trace behind.

So just upon this time her sisters both Climb’d on the cliff that hung o’er Psyche’s vale; And finding there no sign, to leave were loth Ere well assured she lurk’d not within hail. So calling loud her name, ‘Psyche!’ they cried, ‘Psyche, O Psyche!’ and when none replied They sank upon the rocks to weep and wail.

But Psyche heard their voices where she sat, And summoning the Zephyr bade him fleet Those mourners down unto the grassy plat ’Midst of her garden, where she had her seat. Then from the dizzy steep the wondering pair Came swiftly sinking on his buoyant air, And stood upon the terrace at her feet.

Upsprang she then, and kiss’d them and embraced, And said ‘Lo, here am I, I whom ye mourn. I am not dead, nor tortured, nor disgraced, But blest above all days since I was born: Wherefore be glad. Enter my home and see How little cause has been to grieve for me, And my desertion on the rocks forlorn.’

So entering by the golden gate, or e’er The marvel of their hither flight had waned, Fresh wonder took them now, for everywhere Their eyes that lit on beauty were enchain’d; And Psyche’s airy service, as she bade, Perform’d its magic office, and display’d The riches of the palace where she reign’d.

And through the perfumed chambers they were led, And bathed therein; and after, set to sup, Were upon dreamlike delicacies fed, And wine more precious than its golden cup. Till seeing nothing lack’d and naught was theirs, Their happiness fell from them unawares, And bitter envy in their hearts sprang up.

At last one said ‘Psyche, since not alone Thou livest here in joy, as well we wot, Who is the man who should these wonders own, Or god, I say, and still appeareth not? What is his name? What rank and guise hath he, Whom winds and spirits serve, who honoureth thee Above all others in thy blissful lot?’

But Psyche when that wistful speech she heard Was ware of all her spouse had warn’d her of: And uttering a disingenuous word, Said ‘A youth yet unbearded is my love; He goeth hunting on the plains to-day, And with his dogs hath wander’d far away; And not till eve can he return above.’

Then fearing to be nearer plied, she rose And brought her richest jewels one by one, Bidding them choose and take whate’er they chose; And beckoning the Zephyr spake anon That he should waft her sisters to the peak; The which he did, and, ere they more coud speak, They rose on high, and in the wind were gone.

Nor till again they came upon the road, Which from the mountain shoulder o’er the plain Led to the city of their sire’s abode, Found they their tongues, though full of high disdain Their hearts were, but kept silence, till the strength Of pride and envious hatred burst at length In voice, and thus the elder gan complain:

‘Cruel and unjust fortune! that of three Sisters, whose being from one fountain well’d, Exalts the last so high from her degree, And leaves the first to be so far excel’d. My husband is a poor and niggard churl To him, whoe’er he be, that loves the girl. Oh! in what godlike state her house is held!’

‘Ay,’ said the other, ‘to a gouty loon Am I not wedded? Lo! thy hurt is mine: But never call me woman more, if soon I cannot lure her from her height divine. Nay, she shall need her cunning wit to save The wealth of which so grudgingly she gave; Wherefore thy hand and heart with me combine.

‘She but received us out of pride, to show Her state, well deeming that her happiness Was little worth while there was none to know; So is our lot uninjured if none guess. Reveal we nothing therefore, but the while Together scheme this wanton to beguile, And bring her boasting godhead to distress.’

So fresh disordering their dress and hair, With loud lament they to their sire return, Telling they found not Psyche anywhere, And of her sure mischance could nothing learn: And with that lie the wounded man they slew, Hiding the saving truth which well they knew; Nor did his piteous grief their heart concern.

Meanwhile her unknown lover did not cease To warn poor Psyche how her sisters plan’d To undermine her love and joy and peace; And urged how well she might their wiles withstand, By keeping them from her delight aloof: For better is security than proof, And malice held afar than near at hand.

‘And, dearest wife,’ he said, ‘since ’tis not long Ere one will come to share thy secrecy, And be thy babe and mine; let nothing wrong The happy months of thy maternity. If thou keep trust, then shalt thou see thy child A god; but if to pry thou be beguiled, The lot of both is death and misery.’

Then Psyche’s simple heart was fill’d with joy, And counting to herself the months and days, Look’d for the time, when she should bear a boy To be her growing stay and godlike praise. And ‘O be sure,’ she said, ‘be sure, my pride Having so rich a promise cannot slide, Even if my love coud fail which thee obeys.’

And so most happily her life went by, In thoughts of love dear to her new estate; Until at length the evil day drew nigh, When now her sisters, joined in jealous hate, Set forth again, and plotted by the way How they might best allure her to betray Her secret; with what lie their angle bait.

That night her husband spake to her, and said ‘Psyche, thy sisters come: and when they climb The peak they will not tarry to be sped Down by the Zephyr, as that other time, But winging to the wind will cast themselves Out in the air, and on the rocky shelves Be dasht, and pay the penalty of crime.

‘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.

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 assured.

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.

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 gods or men, what is his rank and style?

‘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:

‘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.

‘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.

‘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.’

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

‘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?’

‘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 god, and she a goddess styled, Which, though I die to let it, shall not be.

‘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.

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.