PSYCHE GAZING UPON THE LOVE-GOD.
ALLOW'D to settle on celestial eyes,
Soft Sleep, exulting, now exerts his sway,
From Psyche's anxious pillow gladly flies
To veil those orbs, whose pure and lambent ray
The Powers of heaven submissively obey.
Trembling and breathless then she softly rose,
And seized the lamp, where it obscurely lay,
With hand too rashly daring to disclose
The sacred veil which hung mysterious o'er her woes.
Twice, as with agitated step she went,
The lamp, expiring, shone with doubtful gleam,
As though it warn'd her from her rash intent;
And twice she paus'd, and on its trembling beam
Gazed with suspended breath, while voices seem
With murmuring sound along the roof to sigh;
just waking from a troublous dream,
With palpitating heart and straining eye,
Still fix'd with fear remains, still thinks the danger nigh.
O daring Muse! wilt thou indeed essay
To paint the wonders which that lamp could show?
And canst thou hope in living words to say
The dazzling glories of that heavenly view?
Ah! well I ween that, if with pencil true
That splendid vision could be well exprest,
The fearful awe imprudent Psyche knew,
Would seize with rapture every wondering breast, When Love's all-potent charms divinely stood confest.
All imperceptible to human touch,
His wings display celestial essence light;
The clear effulgence of the blaze is such,
The brilliant plumage shines so heavenly bright,
That mortal eyes turn dazzled from the sight;
A youth he seems in manhood's freshest years.
Round his fair neck, as clinging with delight,
Each golden curl resplendently appears
Or shades his darker brow, which grace majestic wears;
Or o'er his guileless front his ringlets bright
Their rays of sunny lustre seem to throw,
That front than polish'd ivory more white!
His blooming cheeks with deeper blushes glow
Than roses scatter'd o'er a bed of snow:
While on his lips, distill'd in balmy dews,
(Those lips divine that even in silence know
The heart to touch,) persuasion to infuse,
Still hangs a rosy charm that never vainly sues.
The friendly curtain of indulgent sleep
Disclos'd not yet his eyes' resistless sway,
But from their silky veil there seem'd to peep
Some brilliant glances with a soften'd ray,
Which o'er his features exquisitely play,
And all his polish'd limbs suffuse with light;
Thus through some narrow space the azure day,
Sudden its cheerful rays diffusing bright,
Wide darts its lucid beams, to gild the brow of night.
His fatal arrows and celestial bow
Beside the couch were negligently thrown,
Nor needs the god, his dazzling arms, to show
His glorious birth, such beauty round him shone
As sure could spring from Beauty's self alone;
The gloom which glow'd o'er all of soft desire,
Could well proclaim him Beauty's cherish'd son;
And Beauty's self will oft these charms admire,
And steal his witching smile, his glance's living fire.
Speechless with awe, in transport strangely lost, Long Psyche stood with fix'd adoring eye; Her limbs immovable, her senses tost Between amazement, fear, and ecstasy, She hangs enamour'd o'er the deityTill from her trembling hand extinguish'd falls The fatal lamp. He starts-and suddenly Tremendous thunders echo through the halls, While ruin's hideous crash bursts o'er the affrighted walls.
Dread Horror seizes on her sinking heart,
A mortal chillness shudders at her breast;
Her soul shrinks fainting from Death's icy dart, The groan scarce utter'd dies but half-exprest, And down she sinks in deadly swoon opprest; But when, at length, awakening from her trance, The terrors of her fate stand all confest,
In vain she casts around her timid glance, The rudely frowning scenes her former joys enhance.
No traces of those joys, alas! remain ;
A desert solitude alone appears.
No verdant shade relieves the sandy plain,
The wide-spread waste no gentle fountain cheers,
One barren face the dreary prospect wears;
Nought through the vast horizon meets her eye
To calm the dismal tumult of her fears,
No trace of human habitation nigh,
A sandy wild beneath, above a threatening sky.
SPIRIT of love and sorrow,-hail!
Thy solemn voice from far I hear,
Mingling with Evening's dying gale,
Hail, with this sadly-pleasing tear!
Oh, at this still, this lonely hour,
Thine own sweet hour of closing day,
Awake thy lute, whose charmful power
Shall call up Fancy to obey;
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