Divine Adventures.

by John Niendorff.

CUPID AND PSYCHE

(_The Spirit of the Tale_)

To M.

For in the morning of our love, there came The spirit singing such entrancing notes, As sweeps the whole empyrian with a flame, Wherein, a dream, pure lofty pleasure floats, And love and beauty find their mellow throats, In glorious fervor, drinking from the golden bowl, The wine of joy that binds them soul to soul, Thou art my muse and thine the phantasy With spirit hand to guide unconsciously.

For all I bring thee, minion of thy beauty, This little garland of a memory fruity-- A simple tale, as old as love is old, Of virgin art within a golden mold, Still burning, molten, shaping unto glory-- A matchless song and yet a simple story.

How mischief led a cold unwitting boy Along new paths to taste a sudden joy; How curious Love asport from flower to flower, Hath found a sense too sweet to overpower, And yet such magic sweet, that once is tasted, A moment otherwheres were eons wasted; How Cupid, wandering in a lovely valley With arrowed bow, by many a maid must dally, Till Psyche, like a prisms ingathered hues, Into a sudden virgin light he woos.

Sweet Psyche princes in a golden land, And Princess still from bounding strand to strand, The fairest maid of any. Cupid heavenly born, Fair son of Beauty's queen, whom to adorn.

Needs but to name, Great Venus Queen of Beauty-- Whom to adore was but a solemn duty.

This lad whom she hath dowered with all her charms, A voice resistless and soft amorous arms, And named him Love, now raptured, lies, A simple lover in a woman's eyes.

A tale of heart and soul, and so of sorrow, In afterwhiles when riches stoop to borrow-- A tale of being's subtlest jewelry O'erlaying grief with golden filigree.

And I would soar on golden wings of song, And in the souls empyrian float along, From height to height of all the heart's dear chimes, To bless thee for the love that thou hast brought, With greater life. Let tender tinkling rhimes, Like pure white doves, lead on the lovely thought.

I

Deep in a woody vale, where crystal streams Run vaguely like the threads of vanished dreams; Where fountains tinkle to the yellow sun Sweet rainbow-tinted hopes, and lightly run, In joyful race unto the distant ocean; Where greeny swards are checked with light and shade, To make a cool retreat for fine emotion; And velvet lawns, than never weft was laid, More intricate designed of pleasing hues, So richly gem'd in Orient pearls of dews Along quaint aisles in mosques of Samarkand, To bear some solemn priest in deep devotion; Where vague far vistas stretch on every hand.

To luring scenes; where happy shepherds amble, With happy maids, as light as lambs agambol, Or lie alone, with flocks abrowse by streams, And rear quaint misty cities out of dreams, Along far clouds of pearly shape and lining, In crystal walls and domes of no defining, And people them with shepherds, maids and G.o.ds That live for love, until the shepherd nods, And dreams of his own Phillis fairer far,-- Upon a hillock in a shady grove, The heart of this fair scene, its central star, And viewless as the stars of heaven are, With too much light, stood once the house of love.

A mansion builded of the rarest stone, Transparent, gem like, carved, and strangely wrought, As some fine architecture in a dream is sought, And gird with fancy's fairest flowers blown.

The house of love, and here of balmy days, Its gentle spirits thrid in dreamy maze.

And here the days are always balmy, here 'Tis sweet to laugh, and sweet to drop a tear.

Its crystal halls in magic mirror walls, Stand empty but for one, while myriad falls Of lover's feet go tripping after her Or him and wild faint odors sweetly stir Through all the room from raptured lovers breathing, While each a rosy crown for aye is wreathing.

This is the house of love, the golden key Is faith, sweet faith in joy of living, That doubts the mirror not, nor cares to see What hidden scenes the gla.s.s is loth in giving.

II

Here long ago, so runs the gentle tale, Sweet Psyche, wondrous fair and pearly pale, Her young loves virgin brow all softly tinting, With far faint hues of waking loves first hinting, And all enraptured Cupid, arm in arm, Secluded far from rude eyes loveless harm, Have wiled through many a long and gracious hour, Like fair twin bees within a fragrant flower.

Such love as they have sipt! Such silent bliss Of raptured bosoms welded with a kiss!

Such kisses lavished rich and juicy ripe!

Such glorious songs as only lovers pipe!

From morn to morn, the lover's boundless season, Unvext with chilly thought, or chilled with reason.

Ah! Love thou art a happy reckless boy, To measure ages with a moments joy!

Adown the streams of golden waterfalls, On hidden rocks the white faced Lurley calls.

Rash wilful Cupid recks without the cost-- If Venus favor not then all is lost.

Afar he flies unto her royal throne, To claim the boon of joys that he would own, And bring unto the mount his glorious bride, Immortal thence forever by his side.

But Venus, queen of Beauty, waxes wrath, To find new beauty cross her royal path.

And shall this son of all her royal favor, Bind to a watery chit of mortal flavor?

Not so! A mother's newest plans are older, Than any fancy scheme of youthful molder-- His fate is hers to mold! Then hie away To sport, but think no more to disobey.

Old mother Locksmith! Venus is thy name!

Of myriad escapades, all back to thee the blame!

The angry queen hath ruled, and Love, achaffing At wasted time, hies back to love alaughing.

And he hath sworn that she is fairer far Than that proud G.o.ddess of the morning star, Albeit queen of Beauty. Here, in mortal line, Our tale should end beneath the smile parental, In Iris tinted shower of peace divine, And blessings less of use than ornamental.

III

But all the mount hath heard this reckless oath, And all the mount aghast, if Venus wroth, Be not the Venus terrible. Alas!

Such lovers make sad flowers in the gra.s.s.

And woful trees by many a dusky stream Embar the fire of many a love's young dream.

And grizzly monsters moan in sunken path, Some fiery love that stirred the G.o.ds to wrath.

But beauty's queen hath brooked no pa.s.sing jest To penetrate her deep heart's wild unrest.

But in the stilly quiet of her wrath, Conceives dark pitfalls for the lover's path.

And she that once hath hied to amorous chase, And grieved outstript in love's immortal race, Now calls her white winged swans, on fleecy pinions, To bear her down to earthly love's dominions, For naught of love or sorrow. From a cave, Whence flowed her double fountain bitter wave, Two serpents, green and gray, and mottled golden, Within her chariots hold hath she close folden; Cirque-couchant, glittering, whispering sibilant Deep curses old, they with their fury pant, To strains the subtle bonds of jealous art, And plant deep venomed fangs within her heart.

But now the feathry chariot glides along The airy sea, among the sable throng Of darkling hours, whose soundless feet are gliding Unto the amorous dome of Love's abiding.

And they have halted, serpents, swans and queen Within a grove that shields them with its screen Of em'rald interlacing. There a little bloom Of nameless hue, and forest wild perfume, She plucks, and crusheth in a bowl of jade.

And with her breath a syrup weird hath made, Whose faint escaping break along dim aisles, Of forests, brooding mournful eld, beguiles, Till such a wild heart rending moan hath risen, As never rose within a tortured prison To greet a ray of light. But heark'ning not, She bends above her serpents, breathing hot Upon their heads, een as they pause to strike, This mystic lotion. Lo! what wonders like Hath ever magic seer in lore beholden?-- Each serpent skin a woman's form enfolden, That with that breath of drunken magic lotion Hath sprung to being with an exquisite motion, And such sweet words, as through a thousand years, Have gathered music for a tale of tears.

But Lo! one groweth old, and very old,-- A toothless haggard hideous to behold.

And one hath grown a marvellous sun-bright creature, Of luscious form and speechless worship's feature.

One stands like sunlight on a crested wave, And one like murky darkness in a cave.

But each a low obedient knee hath bended, To hear the queenly will thus long suspended.

And thus the queen, to her the radiant maiden: "Thou bitter sweet, thou vessel overladen, "In yonder dome a fairer maid than thou, "Sees all her beauty in a lover's vow, "Nor heeds the ripples on that mirror's sheen, "From troubled depths of her fair self unseen.

"Go thou, and with thine ointed tongue reverse "The mirror's face, and there thine own immerse; "Remembering still, thou hast a serpent's tongue, "That holds thee slave, till thou hast surely flung "Its glittering barb into that silly heart."

Then, like an apparition of a dream, The maid hath vanished, with a h.e.l.lish gleam.

And thus the queen, unto that gruesome hag: "In yonder dome a youth hath founden beauty "Within a maid, and swears all foul and sooty, "That is not there. Thou hast a serpent's eyes, "And seeth so what dreary falsehood lies, "In such a mirror. Go reverse the gla.s.s, "And thine the beauty he has wasted on the la.s.s, "He hath not seen." The hory dame is gone.

And Venus left within the grove alone, Recalls her swans and mounts the starry air.

Then she, the new born maid, as false as fair, Hath found sweet Psyche in the crystal dome, And creeping, like a mad thing to her soul, In friendly guise, exacts a hideous toll For all her blissful life: "How can she bind "Her sunny soul to such a treacherous mind?

"And she hath wed a libertine, a rake, "Whom even now her pleasures must forsake "To drink new pleasures with another bride.

"And if she creeps in silence to his side "Forsooth unwelcome sights might come unto her."

With such foul words the fiend began to woo her, And in her pearly ear hath poured the breath, Of hideous doubt that stabs her soul to death.

And then hath wandered with exultant heart, Unto the vales of Crete, her glittering dart, Of barbed tongue, a woman's sweetness singing, And ever more hath myriad minions clinging, Unto her heartless laughter. But no more To grace our tale. And now the haggard h.o.a.r, On Cupid's angry ears, with whisperings Of faithless women, and the direful springs Of wasted lives: "And she hath heard the wind "Sing always, maids are false and men are blind, "And in a cavern by the ocean side, "'Tis daily jest of Wind and Sun and Tide, "How Psyche tweaks the gentle Cupid's nose "Between the beds; and Psyche false as fair, "Needs but a whim to lay her treason bare.

"This very night, if he will but deny her, "If nothing more, at least 'twere time to try her, "For sooth unwelcome sights might come unto him."

With such foul words the witch began to woo him, And in his angry ears hath poured the bane, That sets his heart at riot in his brain.

IV

What wonder then if in the lonely night, Sweet Psyche weeps to find her love is slighted; Feels darkness fall upon her trembling light, And throws to wind the vows her love has plighted!

And she hath risen from her loveless bed, With all the stealth her grief supplies instead, And steals to Cupid's fine unguarded room, Where she must feast her heart on deeper gloom.

Here Cupid, airy souled, hath fall'n asleep, Too filled of love such watch for long to keep, And even now with her in blissful dreams, He roams again, and all the future seems As sweets of old. No little pains of doubt, To mar recalling moments with their rout.

All through the halls, such joy of living blent Her soul and his in single ravishment.

And Oh! they wander in the flow'ry vale, All through the dewy morn and evening pale, And each to drink the other's loveliness, Despising richest nectar. Even the stress, Of queenly anger now had bode its time, And fresh Aurora speeding to this clime, Hath Venus' royal word to grant his prayer, That with the dawn to clasp his Psyche there, In perfect love, with all the world their own.

Ah, promised day! his eager soul hath flown, To meet the morning. On his lonely bed Reclines his happy visionary head, In such sweet dreams. An hour hath lightly flown When o'er his senses steals a softened moan, As when a soul all pent and warp'd in gloom, Hath breathed soul deep, some sudden wild perfume, That is of freedom. Awaked to such surprise, He sees with heart aghast the famished eyes, Of Psyche filling to their very brim With his forbidden beauty, sees for him, The golden future vanish, sees aghast For now he knows his lovely dream hath pa.s.sed; That soulless doubt hath razed the golden dome Of his high hopes to desert sandy loam.

The structured palace falls with all its art, To grieve a valley with an aching heart.

From out a darkened corner of the ruin rises, And laughs to view the dismal crisis, That baneful hag. But Ah! what beauty fairer!

What luscious form arrayed in raiment rarer!

And she hath flown to vales of Thessaly, Where ever more her mocking eyes shall see, A myriad eyes upon her beauty glisten, A myriad ears unto her rumor listen.

And Cupid flees in sudden wild despair.

To drown his soul within the bitter fountain, Nor Venus now may crown his heart laid bare, Nor any luscious G.o.ddess of the mountain.