The Poetical Works Of Robert Bridges Part 29

'Sort me these seeds' she said; 'it now is night, I will return at morning; if I find That thou hast separated all aright, Each grain from other grain after its kind, And set them in unmingl'd heaps apart, Then shall thy wish be granted to thine heart.

Whereat she turn'd, and closed the door behind.

FOURTH QUARTER

WINTER

PSYCHE'S TRIALS AND RECEPTION INTO HEAVEN

DECEMBER

1

A single lamp there stood beside the heap, And shed thereon its mocking golden light; Such as might tempt the weary eye to sleep Rather than p.r.i.c.k the nerve of tasked sight.

Yet Psyche, not to fail for lack of zeal, With good will sat her down to her ordeal, Sorting the larger seeds as best she might.

2

When lo! upon the wall, a shadow past Of doubtful shape, across the chamber dim Moving with speed: and seeing nought that cast The shade, she bent her down the flame to trim; And there the beast itself, a little ant, Climb'd up in compa.s.s of the l.u.s.tre scant, Upon the bowl of oil ran round the rim.

3

Smiling to see the creature of her fear So dwarf'd by truth, she watcht him where he crept, For mere distraction telling in his ear What straits she then was in, and telling wept.

Whereat he stood and trim'd his horns; but ere Her tale was done resumed his manner scare, Ran down, and on his way in darkness kept.

4

But she intent drew forth with dextrous hand The larger seeds, or push'd the smaller back, Or light from heavy with her breathing fan'd.

When suddenly she saw the floor grow black, And troops of ants, flowing in noiseless train, Moved to the hill of seeds, as o'er a plain Armies approach a city for attack;

5

And gathering on the grain, began to strive With grappling horns: and each from out the heap His burden drew, and all their motion live Struggled and slid upon the surface steep.

And Psyche wonder'd, watching them, to find The creatures separated kind from kind: Till dizzied with the sight she fell asleep.

6

And when she woke 'twas with the morning sound Of Aphrodite's anger at the door, Whom high amaze stay'd backward, as she found Her foe asleep with all her trouble o'er: And round the room beheld, in order due, The piles arranged distinct and sorted true, Grain with grain, seed with seed, and spore with spore.

7

She fiercely cried 'Thou shalt not thus escape; For to this marvel dar'st thou not pretend.

There is but one that could this order shape, Demeter,--but I knew her not thy friend.

Therefore another trial will I set, In which she cannot aid thee nor abet, But thou thyself must bring it fair to end.'

8

Thereon she sped her to the bounds of Thrace, And set her by a river deep and wide, And said 'To east beyond this stream, a race Of golden-fleeced sheep at pasture bide.

Go seek them out; and this thy task, to pull But one lock for me of their precious wool, And give it in my hands at eventide:

9

'This do and thou shalt have thy heart's desire.'

Which said, she fled and left her by the stream: And Psyche then, with courage still entire, Had plunged therein; but now of great esteem Her life she rated, while it lent a spell Wherein she yet might hope to quit her well, And in one winning all her woes redeem.

10

There as she stood in doubt, a fluting voice Rose from the flood, 'Psyche, be not afraid To hear a reed give tongue, for 'twas of choice That I from mortal flesh a plant was made.

My name is Syrinx; once from mighty Pan Into the drowning river as I ran, A fearful prayer my steps for ever stay'd.

11

'But by that change in many climes I live; And Pan, my lover, who to me alone Is true and does me honour, I forgive-- Nor if I speak in sorrow is't my own: Rather for thee my voice I now uplift To warn thee plunge not in the river swift, Nor seek the golden sheep to men unknown.

12

'If thou should cross the stream, which may not be, Thou coudst not climb upon the hanging rocks, Nor ever, as the G.o.ddess bade thee, see The pasture of the yellow-fleeced flocks: Or if thou coud, their herded horns would gore And slay thee on the crags, or thrust thee o'er Ere thou coudst rob them of their golden locks.

13

'The G.o.ddess means thy death. But I can show How thy obedience yet may thwart her will.

At noon the golden flocks descend below, Leaving the scented herbage of the hill, And where the shelving banks to shallows fall, Drink at the rippling water one and all, Nor back return till they have drawn their fill.

14

'I will command a thornbush, that it stoop Over some ram that steppeth by in peace, And him in all its p.r.i.c.kles firmly coop, Making thee seizure of his golden fleece; So without peril of his angry horns Shalt thou be quit: for he upon the thorns Must leave his ransom ere he win release.'

15

Then Psyche thankt her for her kind befriending, And hid among the rushes looking east; And when noon came she saw the flock descending Out of the hills; and lo! one golden beast Caught in a thornbush; and the mighty brute Struggl'd and tore it from its twisted root Into the stream, or e'er he was releas't.