From Psyche, with Other Poems, 3rd edition (1811)

PSYCHE; OR THE LEGEND OF LOVE (EXTRACT)


Here Cupid tempers his unerring darts,
And in the fount of bliss delights to play;
Here mingles balmy sighs and pleasing smarts,
And here the honeyed draught will oft allay1
With that black poison's all-polluting sway,
For wretched man. Hither, as Venus willed,
For Psyche's punishment he bent his way;
From either stream his amber vase he filled --
For her were meant the drops which grief alone distilled.

His quiver, sparkling bright with gems and gold,
From his fair plumed shoulder graceful hung,
And from its top in brilliant cords enrolled
Each little vase resplendently was slung;
Still as he flew, around him sportive clung
His frolic train of winged zephyrs light,
Wafting the fragrance which his tresses flung,
While odours dropped from every ringlet bright,
And from his blue eyes beamed ineffable delight.

Wrapped in a cloud unseen by mortal eye,
He sought the chamber of the royal maid --
There, lulled by careless soft security,
Of the impending mischief nought afraid,
Upon her purple couch was Psyche laid,
Her radiant eyes a downy slumber sealed;
In light transparent veil alone arrayed,
Her bosom's opening charms were half-revealed,
And scarce the lucid folds her polished limbs concealed.

A placid smile plays o'er each roseate lip --
Sweet severed lips, while thus your pearls disclose,
That slumbering thus unconscious she may sip
The cruel presage of her future woes!
Lightly, as fall the dews upon the rose,
Upon the coral gates of that sweet cell
The fatal drops he pours -- nor yet he knows,
Nor, though a god, can he presaging tell
How he himself shall mourn the ills of that sad spell!

Nor yet content, he from his quiver drew,
Sharpened with skill divine, a shining dart;
No need had he for bow, since thus too true
His hand might wound her all-exposed heart;
Yet her fair side he touched with gentlest art,
And half-relenting on her beauties gazed:
Just then awaking with a sudden start
Her opening eye in humid lustre blazed --
Unseen he still remained, enchanted and amazed.

The dart which in his hand now trembling stood,
As o'er the couch he bent with ravished eye,
Drew with its daring point celestial blood
From his smooth neck's unblemished ivory;
Heedless of this, but with a pitying sigh
(The evil done now anxious to repair),
He shed in haste the balmy drops of joy
O'er all the silky ringlets of her hair,
Then stretched his plumes divine, and breathed celestial air.

Unhappy Psyche! Soon the latent wound
The fading roses of her cheek confess;
Her eyes' bright beams, in swimming sorrows drowned,
Sparkle no more with life and happiness,
Her parent's fond exulting heart to bless;
She shuns adoring crowds, and seeks to hide
The pining sorrows which her soul oppress,
Till to her mother's tears no more denied,
The secret grief she owns, for which she lingering sighed.

A dream of mingled terror and delight
Still heavy hangs upon her troubled soul,
An angry form still swims before her sight,
And still the vengeful thunders seem to roll;
Still crushed to earth she feels the stern control
Of Venus unrelenting, unappeased.
The dream returns, she feels the fancied dole;
Once more the furies on her heart have seized,
But still she views the youth who all her sufferings eased.

Of wondrous beauty did the vision seem,
And in the freshest prime of youthful years;
Such at the close of her distressful dream
A graceful champion to her eyes appears;
Her loved deliverer from her foes and fears
She seems in grateful transport still to press,
Still his soft voice sounds in her ravished ears;
Dissolved in fondest tears of tenderness
His form she oft invokes her waking eyes to bless.

Nor was it quite a dream, for as she woke,
Ere heavenly mists concealed him from her eye,
One sudden transitory view she took
Of Love's most radiant bright divinity --
From the fair image never can she fly,
As still consumed with vain desire she pines;
While her fond parents heave the anxious sigh,
And to avert her fate seek holy shrines
The threatened ills to learn by auguries and signs.

Mary Tighe (1772--1810)