'And yet thou talkest of thy wondrous man No more than if his face thou didst not know.' At which incontinently she began, Forgetful of her word a month ago, Answering 'A merchant rich, of middle age, My husband is; and o'er his features sage His temples are already touch'd with snow.
'But 'gainst his wish since hither ye were brought 'Twere best depart.' Then her accustom'd spell Sped them upon the summit quick as thought; And being alone her doing pleased her well: So was she vext to find her love at night More sad than ever, of her sisters' spite Speaking as one that coud the end foretell.
'And ere long,' said he, 'they will spy again: Let them be dash'd upon the rocks and die; 'Tis they must come to death or thou to pain, To separation, Psyche, thou and I; Nay, and our babe to ill. I therefore crave Thou wilt not even once more these vipers save, Nor to thy love his only boon deny.'
But Psyche would not think her sisters' crime So gross and strange, nor coud her danger see; Since 'twere so easy, if at any time They show'd the venom of their hearts, that she Should fan them off upon the willing gust. So she refused, and claiming truer trust, Would in no wise unto their death agree.
'What think you, sister:' thus one envious fiend To other spake upon their homeward route, 'What of the story that our wit hath glean'd Of this mysterious lover, who can shoot In thirty days from beardless youth to prime, With wisdom in his face before his time, And snowy locks upon his head to boot?
'Ay,' said the other, 'true, she lied not well; And thence I gather knows no more than we: For surely 'tis a spirit insensible To whom she is wedded, one she cannot see. 'Tis that I fear; for if 'tis so, her child Will be a god, and she a goddess styled, Which, though I die to let it, shall not be.
'Lament we thus no longer. Come, consult What may be done.' And home they came at night, Yet not to rest, but of their plots occult Sat whispering on their beds; and ere 'twas light Resolving on the deed coud not defer; But roused the sleeping house with sudden stir, And sallied forth alone to work their spite.
And with the noon were climb'd upon the peak, And swam down on the Zephyr as before; But now with piercing cry and doleful shriek They force their entrance through the golden door, Feigning the urgency of bitter truth; Such as deforms a friendly face with ruth, When kindness may not hide ill tidings more.