 Part 11 of Iros and Psyche by Robert Bridges. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nathan at anti-beden-writer.wordpress.com. Iros and Psyche by Robert Bridges. Part 11. January. But Iros now recovered from his hurt felt other pangs, for who would not relent weighing the small crime and unmatched dessert of Psyche with her cruel punishment. And Changdi grew to be so near allied to her who by her taunts awoke his pride as his compassion by her spite unspent. Which Aphrodite Singh waxed more firm, that he should never meet with Psyche more, and had in thought already set the term to their communion with that trial saw, which sent her forth upon a quest accursed, and not to be accomplished, that at first she there might perish on hell's torrid shore. And now it chanced that she had called her son into her prison's chamber to unfold Psyche's destruction, that her fate might stun what love remained by duty uncontrolled, and he to hide his tears rebellious storm was fled when in his place another form rose neath the golden lintel and behold. Psyche herself in slow and balanced strain, poising the crystal bowl with fearful heed, her eyes at watch upon the steadied plain, and whole soul gathered in the single deed. Onward she came, and stooping to the floor, set down the cup unspilled and brimming oar at Aphrodite's feet and rose up freed. Surprise overcame the goddess, and she too stood like a statue but with passion pale, till when her victim nothing spake she threw some kindness in her voice and bade her hail, but in the smiling judged was plain to see, saying, What order bringest thou here to me, that justice over hate should not prevail? Then Psyche said, This is the biting flood of black cocoptus, silvered with the gleam of souls that guilty of another's blood, I paint therein and as they swim they scream, The horned snakes of hell upon the mount enchained for her guard the livid fount, And but the fates can grant to touch the stream. Wherefore, the goddess cried, Tis plain that none but one I want of could this thing have wrought, That which another doth may well be done, Nor thou the nearer to my promise brought, Thou buildest on a hope to be destroyed, If thou accept conditions and avoid thy parcel, nor thy self-accomplish ought. Was it not kindness in me being averse to all thy wish to yield me thus to grant thy heart's desire and nothing loath thy worse, If thou wouldst only work as well as want? See, now I will not yet be all denial, But offer thee one last determining trial, And let it be a mutual covenant. This box, and in her hands, she took a pics, Square cut of dark obsidian's rarest green take, And therewith, beyond tartarian sticks, Go thou an entering Hades house obscene, Say, too, persophony, if it is thy will, To show me so much favour, prithee fill, This little vase with beauty for love's queen. She begs but what shall well overlast a day, For of her own was much of late outspent, In nursing of her son in bed who lay, Wounded by me who for the gift hem sent, And bring me what she gives and with all speed, For truth to say I stand thou ceased in need Of some such charm in my disparagement. If thou return to me with that acquist, Having thyself the journey made, I swear, That day to give thee whatsoever thou list, And be at my son, now Psyche, wilt thou dare. And Psyche said, If this thou truly mean, I will go down to tartar as obscene, And be of Hades' queen thy beauty there. Show me the way, that Aphrodite he said, That maced thou find, yet I will place thee Wents away there is, mortals have on at speed, I, and return thereby, Say, let us hence, then swift to earth her willing prey she bore, And left her on the wide Laconian shore, Alone at midnight in the darkness dense. It was winter, and as shivering Psyche sat waiting for morn, she questioned in her mind, What place the goddess meant arrived where at, She might descend to hell, Or how she would find the way which God's to living men deny. No Orpheus, nay, nor Hercules, am I, said she, To loosen where the great gods bind. And when, at length, the long delaying dawn, Broke on the peaks of huge Taigades, And Psyche through the skirts of dark withdrawn, Looked on that promontary mountainous, And saw high-crested taleton in snow, Her heart sank and she wept with head bent low, The malice of her foe despiteous. And seeing near at hand an ancient tower, Deserted now but once a hold of men, She came there too, and though twas all her power, Mounted its steep unbroken stair again, Surely she said, for now a second time, She thought to die, this little height I climb, Will prove my shortest road to Pluto's den. Here must I come to Tartarus, once there, Turn as I may, and straight to death, Had sprung, when in the mossy tower, The imprisoned air was shaken, And the hoary stones gave tongue, Stand firm, stand firm, that rugged voice outcried, Of such as choose despondency for guide, Has thou not heard what bitterest fate is sung? Harken, for I the rodent means, Can teach how thou mayst come to hell, And yet escape, and first must thou That upper gate to reach, Along these seagirt hills thy journey shape, To where the land in sea dips furthest south, At Tainarus and Hades earthly mouth, Hard by Poseidon's temple at the Cape. Thereby may one descend, But they that make that passage down Must go provided well, so take neither hand a honey-cake Of pearl-ed barley mixed and hydramel, And in thy mouth two doids, First having bound, the peaks beneath thy road Been wrapped around, Thus set thou forth and mark what more I tell. When thou hast gone alone some half thy road, Thou wilt overtake a lame-out-wearyed ass, And one that beats him tottering neath his load, Of logs and beats in vain will cry, Alas, help me, kind friend, my faggots to adjust, Thou that silly cripple's words mistrust, It is planted for thy death, noted and pass. And when thy road the Stygian River joins, Where woolly Sharon fair is over the dead, He will demand his fare, one of thy coins, Force with thy tongue between thy teeth thy head, Offering instead of hand to give the doid, His fingers in this custom are adroit, And thine must not set down the barley bread. Then in his crazy bark, as ferrying over, The stream thou sittest, one that seems to float, Rather than swim midway, twigst shore and shore, Will stretch his fleshless hand upon the boat, And beg thee of thy pity taking in, Shut thy soft ear unto his clamor thin, Or for a phantom deed thyself devote. Next, on the further bank, when thou art stepped, Three wizened women weaving at the woof, Will stop and pray thee in their art adept, To free their tangle threads, hold thou aloof, For this and other traps thy foe hath planned, To make thee drop the cakes from out thy hand, Putting thy prudence to the petrol-proof. For by one cake thou comest into hell, And by one cake departest since the hound That guards the gate is ever pleased well To taste man's meal or sweetened grain unground. Cast him a cake, for that thou mayst go free, Even to the mansion of esophany, Without more stay or peril, safe and sound. She will receive thee kindly, thou decline Her courtesies and make the floor thy seat, Refusing what is offered, food or wine, So they only beg a crust of bread to eat, Then tell thy mission and her present take, Which when thou hast set forth with pigs and cake, On in each hand, while yet thou mayst retreat. Giving thy second cake to Cerberus, The coin to Charon and that way whereby, Thou camest following thou comest thus, To see again the starry choir on high, But guard thou well the picks, nor once uplift The lid to look on Persefece's gift, Else tis in vain I bid thee now not die. Then Psyche thanked the tower and stooped her mouth To kiss the stones upon his rampart hoary, And coming down his stair went hasting south Along the steep Terranian promontory, And found the cave and temple by the cape, And took the cakes and coins and made escape Beneath the earth according to his story. And overtook the ass but lent no aid, And offered Charon with her teeth his fee, And passed the floating ghost in vain, Who prayed and turned her back upon the weavis three, And threw the honey cake to that hell hound, Three-headed, Cerberus, and safe and sound, Came to the mansion of Persofene. Kindly received, she courtesy declined, Said on the ground, ate not, save where she lay, The crust of bread, were revealed the goddess' mind, The gift took and returned upon her way, Gave Cerberus his cake, Charon his fare, And saw through hell's mouth to the purple air, And one by one the keen stardust melt in day. A while from so long journeying in the shades, Resting a tainor as she came to know, How up the eastern coast some forty states, There stood a temple of her goddess foe, There would she make her offering, there reclaimed, The prize which now twas happiness to name, The joy that she would redeem or pass it woe. And wending by the sunny shore at noon, She with her picks and wondering what it hid, Of what kind, what the fashion of the boon, Would be that she to look on was forbid. Alas for innocence so hard to teach, At fancy's prick, she sat her on the beach, And to content desire lifted the lid. She saw within nothing that over her sight, Had looked on nothing garner darkness creep, A cloudy poison mixed of Stygian night, Wrapped her to deadly and infernal sleep. Backward she fell, like one when all is over, And lay out stretched as lies upon the shore, And drowned corpse cast up by the murmuring deep. End of part 11, recorded by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Part 12 of Eros and Psyche by Robert Bridges This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information on the volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com Eros and Psyche by Robert Bridges Part 12, February While Eros in his chamber hid his tears, Morning the loss of Psyche and her fate, The rumour of her safety reached his ears, And how she came to Aphrodite's gate, Were out with hope, returned his hardyhood, And secretly he purposed, While he could, himself to save her from the goddess's hate. In learning what he might, and guessing more, His ready wit came soon to understand The journey to the far Laconian shore, Wither to fly and seek his love he planned, And making good escape in dark of night, Eros uncrossed his true Meridian flight, He by Tuthroni struck the southern strand. There as a chance he found that snowy bird Of Crete that late made mischief with his queen, And now along the cliffs with wings unstirred, Sailed and that morn had crossed the sea between, Whom as he passed he hailed and questioned thus, O snowy gull, if thou from Tainor us, Becomes a hast thou there my Psyche seen? The gull replied, I Psyche have I seen, Walking beside the sea she joyeth to bear A pics of dark obsidian's rarest green, Wherein she gazeth on her features fair. She is not hence by now six miles at most, And Eros, fading speed and down the coast, Held on his passage through the buoyant air. With eager eye he searched the salty marge, Boating all mischief from his mother's glee, And wondering of her wiles and what the charge, Shut in the dark obsidian pics might be, And lo, at last outstretched beside the rocks, Psyche as lifeless and the open box, Laid with the weedy refuse of the sea. He guessed all flew down and beside her knelt, With both his hands stroking her temples won, And for the poison with his fingers felt, And drew it gently from her and anon. She slowly from those stitchy and fumes was freed, Which he with magic handling and good heed, Replaced in pics and shut the lid thereon. O Psyche, thus and kissing her, he cried, O simple-hearted Psyche once again, Hast thou thy foolish longing gratified? A second time hath prying been thy bane, But lo, I love him come for I am thine, Or evermore shall any fate malign, Or spite of goddess spite our love entwain. But now that I have saved thee twice outweigh, The ones that I deserted thee and thou, Hast much obeyed for once to disobey, And wilt no more my bidding disallow. Take up thy pics to Aphrodite go, And claim the promise of thy mighty foe, May be that she will grant it to thee now. If she should yet refuse to spare not yet, Then, Psyche, when she felt his arms restore Their old embrace, and as their bodies met, Knew the great joy that grief is pardoned for, And how at doth first ecstasy excel, And love well known, long lost and mourned well, And long days of no hope comes home once more. But Elos, leaping up with purpose, Keen into the air as only love can fly, Or her to heaven, and setting her unseen At Aphrodite's golden gate whereby They came as night was close on twilight dim, There left and bidding hers say nought of him, And onward to the house of Zeus most high. Where winning audience of the heavenly Sire, Who, well disposed to him, was used to be, He told the story of his strong desire, And boldly begged that Zeus would grant his plea, That he might have sweet Psyche for his wife, And she be dowed with immortal life, Since she was worthy by his firm decree. And great Zeus smiled, and at the smile of Zeus, All heaven was glad, and on the earth below Was calm and peace awhile, and sorrows truce, The sun shone forth and smote the winter snow, The flowers spring, the birds can sing and pair, And mortals as they drew the brightened air, Marvelled and quite forgot their common foe. Yet gave the thunderer not his full consent Without some words, at length has come the day, The spakey, when for all thy youth miss spent, Thy mischief making and thy wanton play, Thou art up-grown to taste the sweet and sour, Good shall it work upon thee from this hour, Book we for better things, and this I say, That since thy birth which all we took for bliss, Thou hast but mocked us, and no less on me, Hast brought disfavor and contempt, U.S., Than others that have had to do with thee, Till only such as vowed themselves aloof, From thee and thine were held in good proof, And few there were who thus of shame went free. That punishment is shape and as reward Is like thy fortune, but our good estate We honour while we sit to be adored, And thus was written in the Book of Fate, Not for thy pleasure, but the general wheel, Grant I the grace for which thou he adost kneel, And that which I determine shall not wait. So winged Hermes, through the heaven, He sped to warn the high celestials to his hall, For they should Psyche see with eros wed, And keep the day with feast embrosial, And Hermes, flying through the skyways Of high Olympus spread sweet Psyche's praise, And bade the mighty gods obey his call. Then all the Cronian gods and goddesses Assembled at his cry and knelt was known, Why Zeus had smiled, the lesser majesties Attending them before his royal throne. Athena, mistress good of them that know, Came and Apollo water off of woe, Who had to Psyche sigh her fate foreshown. Demeter, giver of the golden corn, For he be honoured at her attic shrine, Outimus with hunting spear and horn, And Dionysus, planter of the vine, With old Poseidon from the barren sea, And Leto and the lame Hephaestus he, Himself who built those halls with skilled divine. And Ruddy Pan with many a quip and quirk Heared among those lofty gods his mirth ill-bred, Bearing a mighty bowl of Cretan work, Sternaries with his crisp hair helmeted, Came and retired Hestia and the god, Hermes with winged cap and ribboned rod, By whom the company was heralded. And Hera sat by Zeus and all around, The muses that of learning make their choice, Who when Apollo struck his strings to sound, Sang in alternate music with sweet voice, And righteous Themis and the graces three, Ushering the angered Aphrodite she, Alone of all, with their might not rejoice. But ere they sat to feast, Zeus spayed them, Fill the cup and brosial of immortal life, And said, if Psyche drink and tis my will, There is an end of this unhappy strife, Nor can the goddess whose mislike had birth, From too great honour paid the bride on earth, Forbid her any more for Eros' wife. And Aphrodite he said, so let it be, And Psyche was brought in with such a flush Of joy upon her face as there to see, Hera to love's eye then beauties blush, And then she drank the eternal wine, Whose draught can terecease, Which flesh hath never quaffed, Or doth it flow from grape that mortals crush. And next stood Eros forth, and took her hand, And kissed her happy face before them all, And Zeus proclaimed them married, And outbanded from heaven whoever, Should of that word miscall. And then all sat to feast, and one by one, Pledged Psyche ere they drank and cried, Well done, and Mary laughed a-ring Throughout the hall. So thus was Eros unto Psyche wed, The heavenly bridegroom to his earthly bride, Who won his love in simple maiden head, And by her love herself she glorified, And him from wanton wildness disinclined, Since in his love for her he came to find, A joy unknown through all Olympus wide. And Psyche for her fall was quite forgiven, Since against herself when tempted to rebel, By others malice on her ruin driven, Only of sweet simplicity she fell, Wherein who fall may fall unto the skies, And being foolish she was yet most wise, And took her trials patiently and well. And Aphrodite, since her full defeat, Is kinder and less jealous than before, And smiling on them both calls Psyche sweet, But thinks her son less manly than of yore, Though still she holds his arm of some renown, When he goes smiting mortals up and down, Piercing their marrow with his weapons sore. So now instead of hast love and happy state, They hold for eye their mansion in the sky, And send down heavenly peace on those who mate, And virgin love to find their joy thereby, Him gently Eros shooteth and apart, Keepeth for them from all his sheaf that dart, Would Psyche in his chamber picked to try. Now in that same month Psyche bear a child, Who straight in heaven was named Hedony, In mortal tongues by other letters styled, Whom all to love however named agree, Whom in our noble English joy we call, And honour them among us most of all, Whose happy children are as fair as she. Envoy, it is my prayer that she may smile On all who read my tale as she have smiled on me. End of Part 12. End of Eros and Psyche by Robert Bridges. Recorded by Nathan at antipodeanwriter.wordpress.com