The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 16

12

With which reply the King return'd full sad: For though he nothing more might understand, Yet in the bitter bidding that he had No man made question of the plain command, That he must sacrifice the tender flower Of his own blood to a demonian power, Upon the rocky mount with his own hand.

13

Some said that she to Talos was devote, The metal giant, who with mile-long stride Cover'd the isle, walking around by rote Thrice every day at his appointed tide; Who shepherded the sea-goats on the coast, And, as he past, caught up and live would roast, Pressing them to his burning ribs and side:

14

Whose head was made of fine gold-beaten work Of silver pure his arms and gleaming chest, Thence of green-bloomed bronze far as the fork, Of iron weather-rusted all the rest.

One single vein he had, which running down From head to foot was open in his crown, And closed by a nail; such was this pest.

15

A little while they spent in sad delay, Then order'd, as the oracle had said, The cold feast and funereal display Wherewith the fated bridal should be sped: And their black pageantry and vain despairing When Psyche saw, and for herself preparing The hopeless ceremonial of the dead,

16

Then spake she to the King and said 'O Sire, Why wilt thou veil those venerable eyes With piteous tears, which must of me require More tears again than for myself arise?

Then, on the day my beauty first o'erstept Its mortal place it had been well to have wept; But now the fault beyond our ruing lies.

17

'As to be worship'd was my whole undoing, So my submission must the forfeit pay: And welcome were the morning of my wooing, Tho' after it should dawn no other day.

Up to the mountain! for I hear the voice Of my beloved on the winds, _Rejoice, Arise, my love, my fair one, and come away_!'

18

With such distemper'd speech, that little cheer'd Her mourning house, she went to choose with care The raiment for her day of wedlock weird, Her body as for burial to prepare; But laved with bridal water, from the stream Where Hera bathed; for still her fate supreme Was doubtful, whether Love or Death it were:

19

Love that is made of joy, and Death of fear: Nay, but not these held Psyche in suspense; Hers was the hope that following by the bier Boweth its head beneath the dark immense: Her fear the dread of life that turns to hide Its tragic tears, what hour the happy bride Ventures for love her maiden innocence.

20

They set on high upon the bridal wain Her bed for bier, and yet no corpse thereon; But like as when unto a warrior slain And not brought home the ceremonies done Are empty, for afar his body brave Lies lost, deep buried by the wandering wave Or 'neath the foes his fury fell upon,--

21

So was her hea.r.s.e: and with it went afore, Singing the solemn dirge that moves to tears, The singers; and behind, clad as for war, The King uncrown'd among his mournful peers, All 'neath their armour robed in linen white; And in their left were shields, and in their right Torches they bore aloft instead of spears.

22

And next the virgin tribe in white forth sail'd, With wreaths of dittany; and 'midst them there Went Psyche, all in lily-whiteness veil'd, The white Quince-blossom chapleting her hair: And last the common folk, a weeping crowd, Far as the city-gates with wailings loud Follow'd the sad procession in despair.

23

Thus forth and up the mount they went, until The funeral chariot must be left behind, Since road was none for steepness of the hill; And slowly by the narrow path they wind: All afternoon their white and scatter'd file Toil'd on distinct, ascending many a mile Over the long brown slopes and crags unkind.

24

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.

25

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.

26

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.

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And thro' the darkness for long while was seen That armour'd train with waving fires to thread Downwards, by pa.s.s, 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.

28

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,

29

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 gra.s.sy bank, 'Mong thyme and violets and daisies pied.

30

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.