Thou weetest not what med'cines in them are:
What wonders follow their repeated use

N'ote thy weak sense conceive, should I declare;
Their labor'd balm, and well-concocted juice,
New life, new forms, new thews, new joys, new
worlds produce.

XXXII.

"Thy term of tryal past with constancy,
That wimpling slough shall fall like filth away;
On pinions broad, uplifted to the skie,
Thou shalt, astert, thy stranger self survey.
Together, Psyche, will we climb and play;
Together wander through the fields of air,
Beyond where suns and moons mete night and day.
I charge thee, O my Love, the rose forbear,

If thou wouldst scathe avoid. Psyche, forewarn'd,

1

XXXIII.

Out burst the frannion into open laugh:
She blush'd and frown'd at his uncivil mirth.
Then, soften'd to a smile, as hiding half
What mote offend if boldly utter'd forth,
He seem'd t' assay to give his answer birth:
But stopt; and chang'd his smiles to looks of ruth.
"Is this (quoth he) fit guerdon for thy worth?
Does Cupid thus impose upon thy youth?

Dwells then in heav'n such envy, void of love and
truth?

XXIV.

"Is this the instance of his tenderness,

To envy Psyche what to worms is given?
To cut her off from present happiness

With feign'd reversion of a promis'd heaven?
By threat'nings false from true enjoyments driven !
How innocent the thorn to touch, he knows:
Where are my wounds? or where th' avenging
levin ?

How softly blush these colors of the rose !

How sweet (and div'd into the flow'r) its fragrance flows!

XXXV.

"Disadvantageous are thy terms of tryal; No longer Psyche then the rose forbear. What is to recompence the harsh denyal,

But dreams of wand'ring through the fields of air, And joys, I know not what, I know not where ! As eath, on leafy pinions borne the tree

Mote rush into the skies, and flutter there,

As thou soar yon, and quit thy due degree:

Thou for this world wert made; this world was made for thee.

XXXVI.

"In vain you'd fly to yonder shrubs and plants; Bitter their taste, and worthless their effect :

Here is the polychrest for all thy wants;
No panacea, like the rose, expect.
Mute as my fellow-brutes, as them abject
And reasonless was I, 'till haply woke
By tasting of the rose, (O weak neglect
In thee the while!) the dawn of sapience broke
On my admiring soul, I reason'd, and I spoke.

XXXVII.

"Nor this the only change; for soon I found
The brisker spirits flow in fuller tyde;
And more than usual lustre spread around;
Such virtue has the rose, in me well tried,
But wise, I ween, thy lover has denied
Its use to thee; I join him too: beware

The dang❜rous rose.-For such thy beauty's pride 'Twere death to gaze on, if improv'd!-Forbear To sharp that wit, too keen !-Touch not the rosiere."

XXXVIII.

Uncheckt, indulg'd, her growing passions rise:
Wonder, to see him safe, and hear his telling;
Ambition vain, to be more fair and wise;
And rage, at Cupid's misconceiv'd false dealing:
Various the gusts, but, all one way impelling,
She plung'd into the bosom of the tree,

And snatch'd the rose, ne dreaded pain or quelling.
Off drops the snake, nor farther staid to see;

But rush'd into the flood, and vanish'd presently.

XXXIX.

Full many a thorn her tender body rent;
Full many a thorn within the wounds remain,
And throbbing cause continual detriment:
While gory drops her dainty form distain.
She wishes her lost innocence again,

And her lost peace, lost charms, lost love to find;
But shame upbraids her with a wish so vain :
Despair succeeded, and aversion blind;

Pain fills her tortur'd sense, and horror clouds her

mind.

XL.

Her bleeding, faint, disorder'd, woe-begon, Stretcht on the bank beside the fatal thorn, Venus who came to seek her with her Son, Beheld. She stop'd: And albe heav'nly born, Ruthful of other's woe, began to mourn. The loss of Venus' smiles sick nature found: As frost-nipt drops the bloom, the birds forelorn Sit hush'd, the faded sun spreads dimness round; The clatt'ring thunders crash, and earthquakes rock the ground.

XLI.

Then arming with a killing frown her brow;
"Die, poor Unhappy !"-Cupid suppliant broke
Th' unfinish'd sentence; and with dueful bow
Beg'd her to doff the keenness of her look,

Which Nature feeling to her centre shook.

"Then how should Psyche bear it? Spare the Maid;

'Tis plain that Anteros his spight has wroke :

Shall vengeance due to him, on her be laid

Oh! let me run, and reach th' ambrosial balms," he

said.

XLII.

"Ah what would Cupid ask?" the Queen re

plies;

"Can all those balms restore her peace again? Wouldst thou a wretched life immortalize? Wouldst thou protract by potent herbs, her pain? Love bids her die: thy cruel wish restrain.". "Why then (quoth He) in looms of fate were

wove

The lives of those, in long successive train,

From her to spring, through yon bright tracts to

rove?

Due to the skies, and meant to shine in fields above?

XLIII.

66 Say, would thy goodness envy them the light
Appointed for them, or the good prevent
Foreseen from them to flow? erasing quite
The whole creation through avengement ?
One only species from its order rent,
The whole creation shrivels to a shade."